I’m trapped in the world’s longest line at Whole Foods, and I forgot my phone in the car, so I’m reduced to reading the magazines here in the checkout lane, and they are… all about the keto diet. Keto for Beginners. Keto for Women. Keto for Men. Keto for Kids. Keto for Klingons. 50 Great Keto Recipes! 50 More Great Keto Recipes! Keto the Easy Way. Keto for Seniors. Keto for Newborns. Keto for Kittens. Keto for Crossfitters Who Don’t Have Enough to Brag About. 

The only one I don’t see is the one with an honest title, like “Keto: The Atkins Diet, But With Even More Fat!”

Yeah, guess the magazine gods missed that one.

Seriously, this is a Wall of Keto I’m staring at. I can only conclude that the main source of nutrition on the keto diet is newsprint, and the only thing you’re allowed to eat is glossy pictures of food ripped from these magazines.

And no, I’m not interested in reading one and LEARNING MORE as the covers implore me. You know what I came here to buy? Vegan cookies on clearance. (Say what you want about Whole Paycheck, their clearance rack has some deals.)

Because I’m all about the carbs. In fact, I’m thinking of starting my own diet craze called Carbo, where you eat ALL THE CARBS and don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about it! You don’t have to meal prep, do your own cooking, count carbs and fat grams, or give up every food on the planet that tastes good. You probably won’t lose weight, either, but did I mention you can eat ALL THE CARBS?

The line is barely moving, so I scan the Wall of Keto again, hoping to find something else to read. Oh wait, there is one non-keto magazine. It’s called, “Origins,” and it appears to be a fancy decorating magazine for people who can afford luxuries like a home, furniture, and groceries. It does have some vegan recipes, but not the kind I make. This “Chocolate Poached Pear Cake” requires about 25 ingredients, most of which are not available on the clearance rack. It calls for you to “poach” pears, which is weird because I thought poaching had something to do with illegally skinning alligators, and this is supposed to be a vegan recipe.

Flipping through the pages, I find that you can eat your poached pear cake in a bizarre flamingo-themed dining room, after which you can practice self-care by taking selfies and being mindful of all the great things in your life. Which I assume you have a lot of when you can afford all this shit.

Finally, the line moves forward and I realize where I’ve gone wrong in life. I should have launched my Carbo diet in a fancy schmancy magazine for people with more money than sense.

Carbo for Crossfitters, anyone?