So it seems that I may finally be back on track with my workouts which is a good thing. Bad news? My eating is still not so good. I admit this.
It has been suggested to me that I should probably look into the reasons WHY I eat. So I have. I have looked and looked and looked. Turns out that I eat because . . . wait for it . . . I like it. I like the way it tastes and smells and I like cooking it and reading about it. In short, food is awesome. Groundbreaking, I know.
See, they say; and by they I mean the endless diet and nutrition experts who go on ad nauseum about this kind of thing; that one whould never eat for reasons other than hunger and nutrition. Ummmm, yeah, about that. . .
I'm going rogue!
Saying that I will only ever eat when I'm hungry is like saying that I'm only ever going to have sex for procreation. For the record I don't think I've ever had sex for the express purpose of procreation. And I have two kids. Just sayin'.
It's not realistic, OK. What is the point of having a long healthful life if I can take no joy out of it?
Yes, I know I need to make better eating choices. Understood. My problem is in finding the balance.
Of course I still want the chocolate cake. Who doesn't? But I guess I just need to fit more brocoli into my diet in order to make the chocolate cakes of the world not so tragic. Outrageous concept, right?
Now the trick is learning to like eating more brocoli.
Showing posts with label why we eat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label why we eat. Show all posts
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Thursday, August 5, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Fried Chicken Is Not Considered a Quality Source of Protein?
This is not secret as I think I have mentioned it before. I live in the South. Specifically, Kentucky. And unfortunately most (though certainly not all) of the things you think about when you think "South" are rooted in the truth.
Yes, we say things like "y'all" and "fixin' to". Yes, we love us some big ol' hair. You know, the higher the hair, the closer to Jesus. (by the way that's Jesus with a Y - 'Jay-sus') And besides, the bigger your hair is the smaller your butt looks. Trust us, we know. We still say things like "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir" and "please" and "thank you" and no one thinks you're being excessively polite - except Yankees. On the other hand Southerners have perfected the art of the fake polite. You see when a Southern woman dislikes you, you may never know it until it's too late. We'll slop sugar all over you and say things like "How's your momma been doin'?" or "those are just the cutest shoes!" These things are code for "I've got my eye on you, so don't be trying anything". But when you get the ol' "Well, bless your heart.", especially if it comes with a head tilt - It's too late. The best thing to do is politely excuse yourself and seek cover. That woman surely hates you.
That's not to say that all southern women are just a big ol' bunch of bitches, but we can certainly hold our own. No, in fact, you will never have a truer friend. When your husband has to work away for a while don't be surprised if your yard just magically gets mowed. When your hound dog gets loose, don't worry. Someone will recognize the mutt and send him home. And if someone that you're even vaguely related to should have the misfortune of dying - expect a casserole promptly at dinner time. Which brings me to my point. Food.
Yes, when you thing Southern you think food. No one ever said, "Ummm, going up North to get me some of that good Northern food." That's ridiculous. The South is famous for it's food the world over and so much of our traditions are steeped in food and/or the preparation of it. You've got tailgating and crawfish boils, church suppers and fried chicken, homemade biscuits and sweet tea, bar-b-que and bourbon,iron skillets and julep cups, cornbread stuffing and Sunday at Mamaws. And Bob knows that there ain't nobody can cook like a Southern Mamaw.
My Mamaw Carolyn could whip up the fluffiest melt-in-your mouth biscuits. Ummmm. Biscuits just ain't been the same since she passed. And you cannot convince a Southern Mamaw that you've had enough to eat.
"No thanks, Mamaw. I believe I'm full."
"La, you didn't hardly eat enough to fill up a bird. Come on now and try some of this. This'll fill you up."
And it's your mamaw and you wouldn't dream of talking back to your mamaw. That's just sass.
So what do you do? How is a person supposed to lose weight when so much of our lives are tied up in food. It's easy for someone to say that you just need to focus on activies where food is not the main attraction. But that's just not the way of life around here. And it's not fair to me, or to my family and friends to exclude myself from situations where I know that I'll be tempted. I just need to have a little stronger will power. Make better choices. Realize that yes, I can have a piece of fried chicken, but only one, and no dessert. Or if I want dessert, then I will have just a bite, and no more. That's really what I'm after anyways. The taste. And wouldn't I rather have a 64 calorie beer when I tailgate than to have no beer at all?
So I guess what I'm saying is that life's all about compromises, y'all. You can have you a biscuit as long as you're fixin' to hit the gym afterwards. And certainly having your hair jacked to Jesus is no harm to nobody. And by all means have you a piece of that peach pie, but now don't you be eyeballin' that pecan pie. BTW a crawfish boil is, funnily enough, one southern tradition NOT steeped in fat and calories. It consists of boiling a big bunch of potatoes and corn and smoked sausage. Then boiling the crawfish (or shrimp if you prefer) in a bunch of spices. Then dump it all out on newspaper and enjoy. As long as you avoid too much of the sausage - Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Yes, we say things like "y'all" and "fixin' to". Yes, we love us some big ol' hair. You know, the higher the hair, the closer to Jesus. (by the way that's Jesus with a Y - 'Jay-sus') And besides, the bigger your hair is the smaller your butt looks. Trust us, we know. We still say things like "yes, ma'am" and "no, sir" and "please" and "thank you" and no one thinks you're being excessively polite - except Yankees. On the other hand Southerners have perfected the art of the fake polite. You see when a Southern woman dislikes you, you may never know it until it's too late. We'll slop sugar all over you and say things like "How's your momma been doin'?" or "those are just the cutest shoes!" These things are code for "I've got my eye on you, so don't be trying anything". But when you get the ol' "Well, bless your heart.", especially if it comes with a head tilt - It's too late. The best thing to do is politely excuse yourself and seek cover. That woman surely hates you.
That's not to say that all southern women are just a big ol' bunch of bitches, but we can certainly hold our own. No, in fact, you will never have a truer friend. When your husband has to work away for a while don't be surprised if your yard just magically gets mowed. When your hound dog gets loose, don't worry. Someone will recognize the mutt and send him home. And if someone that you're even vaguely related to should have the misfortune of dying - expect a casserole promptly at dinner time. Which brings me to my point. Food.
Yes, when you thing Southern you think food. No one ever said, "Ummm, going up North to get me some of that good Northern food." That's ridiculous. The South is famous for it's food the world over and so much of our traditions are steeped in food and/or the preparation of it. You've got tailgating and crawfish boils, church suppers and fried chicken, homemade biscuits and sweet tea, bar-b-que and bourbon,iron skillets and julep cups, cornbread stuffing and Sunday at Mamaws. And Bob knows that there ain't nobody can cook like a Southern Mamaw.
My Mamaw Carolyn could whip up the fluffiest melt-in-your mouth biscuits. Ummmm. Biscuits just ain't been the same since she passed. And you cannot convince a Southern Mamaw that you've had enough to eat.
"No thanks, Mamaw. I believe I'm full."
"La, you didn't hardly eat enough to fill up a bird. Come on now and try some of this. This'll fill you up."
And it's your mamaw and you wouldn't dream of talking back to your mamaw. That's just sass.
So what do you do? How is a person supposed to lose weight when so much of our lives are tied up in food. It's easy for someone to say that you just need to focus on activies where food is not the main attraction. But that's just not the way of life around here. And it's not fair to me, or to my family and friends to exclude myself from situations where I know that I'll be tempted. I just need to have a little stronger will power. Make better choices. Realize that yes, I can have a piece of fried chicken, but only one, and no dessert. Or if I want dessert, then I will have just a bite, and no more. That's really what I'm after anyways. The taste. And wouldn't I rather have a 64 calorie beer when I tailgate than to have no beer at all?
So I guess what I'm saying is that life's all about compromises, y'all. You can have you a biscuit as long as you're fixin' to hit the gym afterwards. And certainly having your hair jacked to Jesus is no harm to nobody. And by all means have you a piece of that peach pie, but now don't you be eyeballin' that pecan pie. BTW a crawfish boil is, funnily enough, one southern tradition NOT steeped in fat and calories. It consists of boiling a big bunch of potatoes and corn and smoked sausage. Then boiling the crawfish (or shrimp if you prefer) in a bunch of spices. Then dump it all out on newspaper and enjoy. As long as you avoid too much of the sausage - Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
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.
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.
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