Teeny bopper diet

I think that I might have stumbled upon a new diet while in NYC with Carter, my 13 year old daughter.

Its basis is in the overwhelming love a teenage girl can have for a young, barely discovered teen idle with all of two songs to his name. Say, someone named Austin Mahone perhaps.

If you and that daughter have to go stand in a line wrapping two blocks from the front of the line along with 2,000 other star struck girls with one bored parent in tow, there is no thought of food.

If, while standing in that non-moving line for an hour, lightening and thunder happening, followed by, you guessed it, torrential downpours — there is no thought of food while you huddle under a cheep street-vendor umbrella.

Once inside the mostly standing room only venue, the crowd of young girls, all equally in love with this teenaged
-boy chartreuse, begin to pulsate with excitement. Raising arms high in the air to fist pump to the music, bouncing in unison; clearly the best workout on earth.

At the end of the concert, the overwhelming excitement of having been so close to the next Elvis, creates such a rush of endorphins that the young teen does not even realize she had not eaten anything for the last seven hours.

Now, that is a diet. If only there was a middle-age woman version of this diet I would write the book and make a killing.