Nutritional Knowledge on a Macro Level

The other night, about 3am, I had an idea for a blog entry.  It was some horrible thing someone had done to me when I was a kid.  When I woke up, it was gone.  I've been trying to remember it for a couple of days.  Must not be that big a deal, right?  Riiiight.  It'll come back.  Those things always do.

But here's something.  I have noticed for a long time how accepted theories of nutrition change from time to time.  Remember how fat made you fat?  Now fats (good fats--in ifish, nuts, avocados, etc., not from red meat) are a known desirable part of any diet.  Remember how margarine was supposed to be better than butter.  Now it's not--trans fats are bad, and margarine is much more heavily processed than butter.

When I was in first or second grade, we were told that pizza is the perfect food.  That's because it was made of all four food groups:  milk, fruits and vegetables, breads and cereals, and meat.  Hell, even the four food groups aren't around anymore.  Now we have a pyramid.  Still, pizza as the perfect food!  That was music to my ears. 

I have been learning these past few months, about what foods are useful to me and what foods can make me their bitch by their very existence.  Pizza is tough.  If I am in control, my powers of resolve can limit my intake.  Not getting meat on it helps, too.  But if I'm tired or sad or agitated, forget it.  I can eat mine and yours.  I can want more.  It doesn't even have to be particularly good pizza. 

I also really believe that not all calories are the same.  In the last several weeks, my consumption of processed foods had risen (if not my calories).  I've slowed that down, am eating more "real" food, and my weight has dropped a bit.  I'm working out a bit more, too, but I think the food matters more than the gym.  In any event, I know that I feel better with real food.  And it is very rare for me to find a kind of candy or dessert that I think is worth the calories.  That doesn't mean I won't eat them.  I have it on good authority that some of my mom's Christmas cookies are on the way.  I'll eat them and like them.  But not all of them.  And I won't love them.  Amazingly, I LOVE the ripe pears from Harry & David.  Those are worth every calorie. 

The point is that all food presents a learning experience (or a reminder).  Lots of calories aren't going to screw me up.  They will, however, slow me down.

Kids

I think I've touched on this before.  My wife and I (first anniversary is today!) are planning on having a kid.  I worry about lots of things related to this kid, who is really just an idea of a kid right now.  I worry about my weight and the kid's weight.  Kids are mean to fat kids.  Kids are mean to each other about their parents, too.

Once, when I was in 7th grade and was waiting for the school bell to ring so I could go to class, a couple of older guys had a newspaper and were holding up the grocery ads to me.  "Look!  Meat!  Mmmm!"  That kind of thing.  How do I protect the kid from people like that?  All I can think to do is help the kid not be a fat kid.  That starts with me.

So here's the good news.  I was down 1.4 today.  I'm just shy of 10% since April.  I really haven't done anything differently--except try to give myself a break.  The meeting today was about having a buddy, about being accountable.  Someone said she can't do that--the guilt is too great if she has to worry about someone other than herself.  I feel that way, too.  I'm a critical enough voice in my life that I don't need to have someone else on my ass, even in the name of support.

Our meeting leader wasn't here today (which is weird, and I assume something bad is going on with her, which is too bad if true).  The sub (who is not yet a leader) went around the room asking about everyone's history with weight loss, Weight Watchers, etc.  The interesting thing was how many people had been, lost weight, quit, and then come back.  Almost everyone in the room, in fact (myself included).  Two people talked about losing the weight and thinking, "I'm cured.  I can eat whatever I want not."

Boy, do I identify with that.  But now, I've learned.  I'm just like any addict.  My thing is food.  The downside is, I can't just quit.  Such is life.  So I'm going to pay attention to what I eat for life.  "For life" is daunting.  In fact, I'm not sure I could actually commit to that.  But I can commit to it for today.  Tomorrow, I'll do it again.  I've been doing it since April.  It's habit. 

Here's the funny thing.  Mostly I eat what I want.  I find that I feel better eating good food--too much fat/oil/crap makes me feel gross.  Today we're going to have wedding cake, but I know that if I eat too much of it, I will feel weird.  So I'll be careful.  In fact, today will be a tough eating day, so I'm going to the gym for sure.  This is all good.

On being a fat kid

When I was in high school, my dad's law firm merged with a smaller firm. The new firm was not big by today's standards. It had maybe 30 lawyers, max. I worked there the summer after the merger as a general bobo/gofer.

One of the new parters was an old guy, probably pushing 80 at the time. He was an old thin guy who wore bow ties. The strangest thing about his appearance was the coarse white hair growing out of his nose. I don't mean the nostrils. I mean out of the top of his nose.

I decided to introduce myself. After all, this was an experienced, fancy lawyer--a burgermeister in my hometown. I told him my name. Did he say hi? No. Did he say, pleasure to make your acquaintance? No. The first words out of his mouth were, "You're fat like your dad."

I was shocked, and I was amazed that he could insult both my dad and me in five words. Amazing.

Ok, so I figured out that he was a world-class asshole. But still. That happened at the beginning of the summer, and I don't think I ever felt comfortable working there again. I told my dad what he'd said, and my dad laughed and said the guy wasn't such a bad guy. But I think it hurt my dad, too. For both of us.

My dad was kind of thick as a kid. But he also played on his high school tennis team. Comparatively, I was a much fatter guy, even though I dropped some weight and eventually became a bad shotputter.

I know my dad didn't like it that I was fat. I didn't. Why should he? But I grew up feeling as though I hadn't met expectations, and I still feel it. I might even feel it now more than I ever have. Mid-life crisis? Who knows?

I might be having a kid, which is to say that my wife might be pregnant. We're both on the heavy side, and we both worry that the kid will be fat. I don't worry that it will reflect badly on me (which I think bothered my dad). I worry that the kid will take as much shit as I did--from family, from strangers, from well-meaning friends and acquaintances.

My wife's mother has been perpetually on my wife about her weight, and if you look at pictures of my wife as a kid, you can see that she's perfectly normal, maybe a little heavier than some of her friends, but not giant. She was a lovely kid. She's a lovely woman. She struggles. I struggle. We both worry that having a fat kid will be bad for the kid because of the shit people dish out.

We're living differently than we used to. We eat a lot better than we used to, especially portion-wise, which is where we have trouble. We go to the gym together, too. We want this to be a way we live so the kid will grow up without turning to food for comfort the way we did.

My eyes these days really are bigger than my stomach. Sometimes I over-order, especially sushi. I get uncomfortably full. It's a kick. When I'm preparing a meal, I sometimes want to eat a lot. Usually I realize I'm feeling agitated about something. I eat less than I want. If I'm still hungry, I'll eat more. It happens, but rarely.

I read a book about Buddhism years ago in which someone said, "I eat when I'm hungry. I sleep when I'm tired."

That's the goal. Keep food as fuel only. Finding comfort in other things is the goal. I don't really know how to do that yet. But I'm--so far--pretty successful at letting the feelings pass without having to eat.