A whale of a tale. No, really.

Nancy was smarter than what I gave her credit for. Nancy introduced me to the Atkins diet back in 1997. Nancy was also a rude, fat cow, that wore bright-blue eyeshadow, and liked to sneer at me from behind the cash register. Nancy didn't like me. I didn't like Nancy. It was a mutual hatred.

I was 22, Nancy was in her late 40s. We were working in a Christian store in Old Town Spring--a bevy of Victorian houses, turned into little cutesy stores--a magnet for buses full of old people, and bored, stay-at-home moms. We had to wear these crappy "jumpers." They were long dresses that came in a bunch of I'm-90-and-own-50-cats type prints. They were hideous, but very comfortable. A lot of school teachers bought them. Not that I have anything against school teachers, but apparently, there are many badly-dressed ones out there. Especially in Spring, Texas. So, here I am, a new, young, bride, working in a senior-citizens camp, wearing a potato sack with pictures of "country bunnies" on it, and being given the evil-eye by a 350-lb woman with a mustache. Does life get any better than this?

I don't even know where I was going with this story....

Oh, yes, the Atkins Diet. One day, only Nancy and I were working. It was a Tuesday, so we could expect about 5 people in the store all day--and that's only if a nursing home was visiting. Around noon, Nancy went to go get lunch and came back with McDonald's. She had a double-quarter pounder with cheese, a super-sized fries, two fried apple pies, and a super-sized coke. Seriously, people, this woman was just a waddling billboard for a heart attack. As we're sitting there--me, eating my yogurt, trying hard not to puke because watching Nancy eat her fries is like watching a T-Rex tear into an unsuspecting Brontosauraus--she unwraps her slab-'o-meat, cheese and mustard/ketchup mix crawling down the side, and proceeds to remove the top bun. I looked at her, a bit confused, not only by the removal of the bun, but by the bits of fry-salt stuck in her lady-stache. Sensing my confusion, she says, "I take the top bun off--it's less calories that way." AND THE ATKINS DIET WAS BORN.

(You may now break into wild applause.)

Good thing she took the top bun off of the DOUBLE-QUARTER-POUNDER WITH CHEESE. That way, she could finish her super-sized fries, and eat her two fried apple pies without feeling guilty.

Cripes.