Back to School and I'm the Fool

My babies went back to school yesterday and yes, it is ridiculously early. I would so much rather them go to school all through May and then not go back until the end of August. Like so many other things, it would be so much better if I ran the world. So I am sad that the summer, at least for this family, is officially over. On the other hand, I will be glad to get back on some sort of schedule. My healthy lifestyle has gone woefully off course this summer and it would seem that while my kids pack up their little pencils and crayons, I will be packing up my protein bars and free weights.
Seems like there are a few lessons I need to brush up on. Like, how to get motivated to workout every morning. No choice, no options, just routine. Oh, it's a weekday? Then it's a workout day. (Weekends are still optional/light days)
I also need to relearn how to order off of a menu. . .and enjoy it. I have admittedly eaten some stuff this summer that probably won't be gracing the pages of Clean Eating magazine. Yes, that food was delicious. And I know that they strategically place such things on the menu, usually with big glossy pictures, just to lure you in. But I also know that the same restaurant that offers the delicious chicken Parmesan with all the ooey gooey melty cheesy goodness, also offers a really  fresh and tasty salad with crunchy greens, juicy tomatoes, fresh mushrooms, and other vegis, all topped by a really savory piece of lemon grilled salmon. I just forget about it because it's buried at the bottom of the menu. So I guess I'll be spending more time at the bottom of the menu.
Likewise, a lesson I have never learned, is how to dine out with friends without feeling like the weirdo dieter friend. My friends are amateur foodies in the sense that maybe we don't have our own food network show, but we can definitely compete in the food Olympics. So when we go to a restaurant and I order a salad or some version of grilled chicken for the umpteenth time, they notice. "Oh, she's being good," they coo. Not sure if they are trying to be supportive, but the effect is the opposite in fact. I wind up feeling conspicuous and judged.
I guess I have my work cut out for me. I guess, like most things, that I will just have to knuckle down and do it. I am much better at avoiding, but that is no longer an option. Now maybe my daughter can explain long division to me so I will have a better time of dividing the calories in a restaurant dish.

Viva La Revolution!!!

In the spirit of the Olympics, which frankly I am adicted to, we are going international. I like watching sports where the athletes have to consume massive amounts of calories a day just to stay in training. Like cross country skiing. 12,000 calories a day. Seriously. I need a job like that. "The Swiss are looking strong, time for another doughnut, get some more ski time." I think I could handle that. Eat, ski, eat, ski, ski, ski, eat, sleep. OK, I might not be competitive, or even very good. But I think I could eat like I was. Oh, wait, I already did that.
Anyway, I read something the other day that vaguely has something to do with international eating, but admitedly nothing to do with the Olympics. This study compared the way French women and American women eat. I, for one, would love to know how they manage to eat all those creamy sauces and delicious pastries and still look fashionably slender. I know that if I ran into a French woman on the street she would think I was fat and I would think she was a bitch and we would probably both be right. Still, there must be something she could teach me. Just like there are things I could teach her. Like Jerry Lewis isn't really that funny and horizontal sailor stripes do not, in fact, look good on everyone.
The study started out with the two groups of women being given identical, but massive, amounts of food. Each group was told that they could eat as much as they wanted to. To eat until they were "satisfied". Not surprisingly, the American women ate way more than the French.
The reason - surprisingly simple. When asked how each woman judged whether or not they were satisfied the American women responded that they ate until they were "full". The French women responded that they ate until they "weren't hungry anymore".
Not hungry anymore? Are you kidding me? It's really that simple? Well, it must be because Dior doesn't make stretch pants.
So the trick is being able to know when you're not hungry anymore. It's easy to know when you're full. God knows I've felt that belt-loosening, lethargy set in often enough after a big meal. It's America after all. If something is tasty, well, then Super-Size it. And we've all been taught to clean our plates. And how often have we made fun of the devastatingly small portions of French cuisine? Who knew?
I know it's easier said than done, like most things in life. But I'm all for a plan that allows me to eat anything I want. Eat away - just stop when you're not hungry anymore. Hmmm. I don't know how well it'll go, but I'm going to give it a whirl. For the next week I'm going to revel in food. I'm going ot cook my favorite dishes. Even dessert. I'm going to eat whatever I want, deny myself nothing, stopping when I am not hungry anymore. It's a risky little game, but I'm up for the challenge.
It's definately weird to be trying to lose weight and talking about eating what I want. Sort of like being concerned with fuel efficiency and buying an SUV. But, as I've said before I'm not interested in a "diet" so much as a new lifestyle. I have had success so far, but I'm always interested in aomething new. Especially as it pertains to eating more sweets.
Now wax up the skis and snap on your ski boots. There's been a lot of snow of late here in the hills of Eastern Kentucky and I've got to work up a hunger. I can totally do it.