No more Monday blogs about food or exercise or nutrition or whatever. I’m not worthy. This old grandmother has spent nine months trying to change her ways and in some things has succeeded. But the end result is still a fat woman by anyone’s standards. Sure I’ve lost twenty pounds, but no one has noticed. When you lose one or two pounds in a week it isn’t that dramatic. I lost a pound this week. No one cares except me.
I am happy that I have reduced my salt intake. I haven’t had a Coke since last Christmas. I haven’t had a potato chip in six months. I don’t eat white bread or biscuits. I avoid anything with too much sugar. I eat more vegetables and fruit. I read labels. I have changed some of our eating habits as a couple. We eat out about every two months instead of once a week. We avoid fast food places. We eat pizza once a month instead of once a week. We eat salad at least four times a week. We eat less frozen food.
Most of my thin friends are still eating doughnuts, guzzling diet Dr. Pepper, and eating at McDonald’s. But they are also much younger, much busier with children and activities, and often run or jump or swim or play softball or do something much more strenuous than my gardening and walking. Most of them do not care what they eat as long as they burn more calories than they take in. It’s all in the number on the scale. Nutrition is not an issue.
I first noticed this phenomenon with my friends in Weight Watchers. One day at lunch they were discussing the “points” of the items on the Taco Bell menu. They went on to figure out the point values of several other food choices that were clearly junk food. I read the labels of several WW frozen meals and noticed that many have far too much salt, but it is only the points that concern members.
I also frequently hear, “I wonder how long I will need to run to burn off a hot fudge sundae (birthday cake, doughnuts, cheeseburger)! Ha, ha.”
Of course I have one or two friends, and family members, who have gone the other route and are now vegans or raw food only advocates who look down their noses at anyone who consumes real food. They seem to feel that the stranger their food consumption the more special they become. They remind me of parents who tell me their child is “such a picky eater”-as though that was some admirable quality I should certainly notice.
So I guess what I need to do is start running. Of course the fact that I am lucky most days to be able to walk will certainly put a damper on those plans. And my past two attempts to return to the treadmill have resulted in severe plantar faciitis.
Maybe I just need to get my attitude adjusted and eat half of what I’m eating.
I’m in a mood this morning.
Don’t worry…this too shall pass.