With just about any diet, there comes a point where tempers flare over the realization that the dieter is missing out on something he or she would normally eat.

At my house, where my wife and I have been actively following the chart for the South Beach diet, that day came on Friday, as my wife were sitting down to breakfast.

The way the diet works, you go through a series of “phases.” The first phase, which lasts two weeks, requires you to cut out fruit, bread, as much sugar as possible, and to replace those foods with more vegetables. I’m not talking about the types of vegetables I would normally eat either, such as corn and potatoes. Instead, the vegetables recommended for Phase I include broccoli, cauliflower, tomatoes, lettuce, and squash. At least, those were the ones my wife and I have been eating more of lately.

I am not a fan of broccoli. I like squash even less than I like broccoli. I made myself eat it every day, and got through it with much easier effort most days than I thought I would be able to do.

The more difficult situations for me involved the various days that I didn’t have my meals at home. It was on those days that I struggled to find something in line with the dietary requirements of Phase I. For example, I went with some friends one weekend to Nashville, TN. At lunch time, we were at a mall. I think I looked at the menu of every single restaurant in the food court before settling with something that was as close as I could get to what I was supposed to eat. All in all, it’s been working so far. We have both lost more than 10 pounds in three and a half weeks we have been doing this, and I fully expect to lose even more before we finish the current phase of the diet.

My wife is having an easier time with the dinner meals and options than I am, but breakfast is a different story. Every morning for almost three weeks straight, my wife got up early and made breakfast: eggs, bacon, tomato, and sometimes mushrooms and cheese in the eggs. With the plate of food came a serving of coffee. We did this for 20 days. Yes, 20 days in a row.

Somewhere around day 10, my wife commented that she would “kill for pancakes.” I don’t think she had anyone in particular in mind in her joking comment, but then a couple of days later she followed up the comment about being willing to “kill for pancakes” with another light-hearted suggestion that she would “trade me to gypsies for some French toast.”

Now, at that point I politely laughed and then suggested that we not stay on Phase I for the extra week (Phase I is only recommended for two weeks but we had talked about doing it for three instead), but go ahead with Phase II, so that she could have her “precious pancakes.” It was another full four or five days before she decided she could simply not stand to look at an egg for one more meal. I can’t say that I blame her. I enjoy eggs for breakfast far more than she does, and even I was getting a little tired of it.

Something to understand about Phase II is that you are still on dietary restrictions. It’s just that there are fewer restrictions. You can add fruit back in, you can have milk, and you’re supposed to have a serving of whole wheat. So she bought whole wheat pancake mix and sugar-free syrup. Personally, I can’t think of a more disgusting breakfast option.

On Friday, we sat down to our serving of one whole wheat pancake topped with sugar-free syrup and two slices of bacon on the side. My wife at least had the good sense to slice up a banana and put it on top of her pancake. I ate my banana afterward, while I finished my second cup of coffee.

The realization that the pancake wasn’t the pleasant change of pace we were looking for was the breaking point.

“It’s what a banana would taste like if it were a grain,” she said as she finished her first bite.

I laughed, but she just looked at me.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“You are,” I said.

“Well, you won’t be laughing when those gypsies come by with the french toast,” she said as she continued to eat.

That only made me laugh harder, and I nearly spilled my coffee, which was in my hand at the time.

“You’re hilarious,” I told her.

“You only think that because you haven’t met Hilda yet,” she said.

I thought about it for a second, and then decided that if it meant never eating broccoli again, I would meet with her imaginary friend Hilda. Luckily, it never came to that. On Saturday, my wife made french toast, and for at least one day, all was right with the world again.