Confessions of a Carbovore: who ate all the carbs?…ummm…me?

Question 34:

If Clem has 1600 calories for the day and only 80 grams of these are allowed to be carbs, but she’s already ate 63 grams of carbs and its only lunchtime how many carbs can Clem have for lunch? (Work out how many carbs Clem can have for dinner for extra credit!):


Sweet F.A. Clem can have sweet F.A. carbs for lunch and even sweeter F.A. carbs for dinner. Clem will go through the rest of the day obsessing how to divide up the last of her carbs because she greedily ate all of the carbs in a carb obsessed feeding frenzy this morning.

So it turns out there was no need for all the hours of tutoring I had in a fruitless attempt to get me to pass Year 11 maths, when all they really needed to do was give me the myfitnesspal app, feed me all the carbs and calories for 5 days a week, and then take away said precious carbs and calories for the other 2 of the days of the week.

I am becoming a carb adding, meal manipulating genius. Mathematicians of the world look out!

Now I know what you’re thinking. “Clem, just a few weeks ago you were looking at #allthecarbs in your diet plan and having a #carbofreakout. You told us yourself! The carbs were leaping off the page and attaching themselves to your hips. You were about to turn into the Michelen Man. Didn’t you gush about the godsend that is the lowcarb days??? Clem who ARE you? Do we even KNOW you anymore??? Clem you’ve…you’ve changed…

Okay, okay. I admit. I have done a full about turn and turned my back on my former low-carb obsessed ways. No longer do I look at my 50 grams of pre-workout first breakfast of the day oats with dread and horror, and in fact I am so in love with #allthecarbs now, that I actually fantasize about my post-workout second breakfast of basmati rice (and tuna, I’m not a complete carbovore) while I’m working out. Honestly who needs hot, muscly fire fighters in manly “I am man, see my sweat defined muscles, see me cuddling this puppy that I rescued myself with my manly arms” fantasies, when you can have a bowl of fluffy, white, tender rice to fantasize about instead. In actual fact, that firefighter calendar that’s on the wall at work…lets just replace it with a calendar of fantasy carbs! Hello Mr January you hot bowl of basmati rice you – a bit on the pale side but who needs a tan when you’re this good! …Oh my god Mr April! That golden sweet skin, that perfectly shaped body…oh my god the things I would do to that body!… (Mash it, steam it, bake it…mmmmm baked sweet potato for life).

So anyway here I am at my desk at work, it’s lunchtime and Sally (my manager) is waiting for me so we can go across to the supermarket to buy lunch. And waiting and waiting. I meanwhile, am executing strategies and performing complicated mathematical equations (that I had no idea how to do in highschool but somehow come naturally now – desperate times call for desperate measures) to work out how I can have carbs for lunch AND dinner.

And somehow, in amongst all the different combinations and strategic put this vegetable here and this rice cake here…I have it! Eureka! I am the Albert Einstein of this generation….

“Sally, I’ve done it! I’ve bloody done it! I am a genius! I deserve a payrise! I am the lord of the carbs!

I look up in excitement, holding my iphone aloft, proudly displaying my moment of myfitnesspal genius, to let Sally share in my unbelievable act of mathematician glory…


I look around the office.

“Ahhh Sally…?”


It turns out my new found mathematical carbo manipulation abilities aren’t appreciated by everyone…


Dem feels when your genius goes unappreciated.

Forget Einstien…I am the Van Gough of this generation…

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