From Richard Cohen's "When Faith is Toast:"
And yet every morning, I did my little religious number from the church of Dr. Atkins. I had my bacon. It made no sense -- not to me, anyway -- but it gave me something I wanted, which happened to be the bacon. Later in the day, I could have my steak -- the fattier, the better -- and take solace from the sacrifice I was making by forswearing bread and pasta.