It’s like the Paleo, Atkins, Military, or South Beach diets, only much, much richer! You’re guaranteed to lose big and look like a billion bucks!
hat’s your weight loss secret?
The other day, an acquaintance came up to me at the salon, looked me up and down and declared, “Wowza, you are looking fabulous. What’s your secret? Did you go Paleo or something?”
I thanked her. It’s true, I have been trying something new. In fact, I dropped 20 pounds in two weeks but a girl can’t reveal all her secrets, can she? I mean, if I told her everyone might find out, so I just gave a sly smile.
“Oh come on, don’t be a tease.” She pinched my nonexistent muffin top like we were old friends. “Is it the Mediterranean diet? Inflammation-free? Atkins? South Beach?”
I shrugged my bony shoulders. The truth is, I’ve lost so much weight my clothes fall to the floor like flags without a pole and I had to borrow a pair of pants from my prepubescent daughter. My husband keeps sticking his hand in the new gap between my legs and wiggling his fingers in awe. There’s no way I’m going to share my secret with just anyone.
But she wasn’t budging. She poked a finger between my jutting ribs. “Spit it out. Have you been planking? Is it kettlebells or that yoga where you sweat a lot?”
I’m so skinny she could wrap me around her neck and toss me over one shoulder like a designer scarf. If I were a dog, I’d be one of those whip-thin fancy-looking ones that shake all the time because they’re cold. I’m not talking tweaker-twiggy or common gym girl or even your run-of-the-mill starving person but the spare, elegant kind of slim that looks like hammered bronze or whittled ivory. More than just a look, it’s an aesthetic—the insouciant kind of svelte you get when you’re so rich even food gets boring.
I may be thinner than a hundred dollar bill but my lips are sealed. She stalked off in a huff.
Here’s the thing: I’ll tell you if you lean a little closer. You. Yes you, because you’re special, so I’ll let you in on my secret. I’m going to whisper in your ear so no one else can hear me. It’s the latest thing, a new diet for distinctive, discriminating connoisseurs like us. No, it’s more than a diet. It’s a lifestyle. I call it The Billionaire Diet©™®$ because it’s only for an elite group of handpicked special people.
The Billionaire Diet©™®$: Recipes & Menus for How to Look like a Million Bucks!
The only rule is that you must follow the recipes exactly, but the good news is you can eat as much as you can afford!
Poached quail egg nestled in a nest of green, sprinkled generously with saffron. Kopi Luwak is a coffee made from beans that were gobbled and shat out by a civet, and you can drink as much as you want but remember, no additions or substitutions allowed because baby, you deserve the best.
Everybody knows rich people eat salad for lunch and today, you get baby arugula with a dollop of caviar from a rare 100 year-old albino sturgeon in the Caspian Sea. You may drink as much water as you like, as long as it’s made from desalinated sea water and is therefore special, like us.
Sushi made from fugu, bluefin, abalone, and shark fin, sprinkled with whole pearls. To drink, you may have Goût de Diamants champagne or beer made from a 3,250 year old Egyptian recipe with ice from the Antarctic Ocean. Sip from an alligator Manolo Blahnik.
You can eat only babies today, creatures so young they’ve never chewed. Newborn mammals, anybody’s eggs, larvae, more caviar. Thoroughbred placenta braised and served in a pool of sautéed tadpoles. Remember, you are what you eat, and make sure it’s organic.
Yubari melons (selling for $12,000 a pop) hand-fed to you by a good-looking server. Between each bite, the server gives you a solid spanking with a fine mahogany paddle.
White and black truffles with truffle oil and truffle salt and minced truffle and seared truffle with radishes carved to look like little flowers. Shave some truffles on top of that and eat with a sterling silver escargot fork while listening to some classy music. (Note: If you feel hungry at any time, try sucking on a mouthful of dirty pennies. This will help curb your appetite.)
Seared foie gras wrapped in Spanish ham made from pigs that were fed only acorns and roots. (It comes with its own DNA report to prove its pedigree. Eat as much as you want, but don’t be pedigreedy!) You must be naked and are required to look at yourself in a full-length mirror while you eat.
One egg. One Fabergé egg. Because it is made of precious metal and gems, you will have to swallow it whole.
Matsutake mushrooms on a bed of julienned cash. It doesn’t matter if it’s new money or old but if you have any taste at all, you’ll use $100 bills.
Kobe beef in a bed of gold. For dessert, you may eat a dozen red roses.
Skip the recipes and just start eating straight from your wallet. Eat nothing but money from now on. You can boil it, dress it, dice it, shred it, add a little Himalayan pink salt and wash it down with the fancy water.
You too can be as slim as a billionaire! The pounds will fall like a rigged stock market and you hardly have to lift a finger! Buy your copy of The Billionaire Diet©™®$ today!
Photos by Anna Fonté.
NOTE: “My STIR” is a new feature on STIR Journal and we are delighted to have Anna Fonté as our first contributor. Learn more.
“Trickle-downers” could also eat crow foie gras.
Ha ha, Les!
Day 6: Crow foie gras, but you have to eat as fast and as much as the crow did. Your’e either with us or against us. Do it or do without.
I love this. I guess people never get tired of other people telling them what to eat!
What should I eat, Alison? Please tell me. I’ve run out of money.
Thanks for the multiple googles. But where are the chilled peasant brains?
They’re somewhere in the freezer. Bwa ha ha ha.
I was going well on the diet, but unfortunately made the mistake of thinking you’d made a typo. Apparently, alligators don’t wear Manolo Blahniks, you don’t actually mean alligator’s when you write alligator, and I’d need two new hands to continue with the diet.
What a pity — I was so looking forward to Day Three.
You don’t need hands, daahling. You’re being hand-fed (but don’t forget to look in the mirror!).
The recipes seem a little bitter. I guess I was used to sugar coating.
What do you mean, bitter?! (Said through a mouthful of dirty pennies.)
Is eating my own young bad? It seems sort of 1980. A little too Knots Landing somehow.
(Absolutely brilliant. Like an obnoxiously large emerald cut diamond. Or a single tear from a grass-fed woodland faerie.)
Finally, a diet that will work for me!
She’s nailed it. The Bay Area Billionaires Diet. Anythings possible here.
I remember when she was shimmeringly svelte on the Popcorn Diet.
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