Someone made a remark in a review of my books that it's no wonder I relapsed because my diet is so rigid. I laughed because any particular weight loss method is going to be rigid, no matter what it promises you. Try the so-called "easy way out," gastric bypass. One has no room for deviance with food afterwards and bulk is impossible unless the patient wants to undo all the good that the surgery did in shrinking the stomach.
And I eat a lot of food, enough that I finish a meal after a dining companion and enough that one boyfriend always remarked on it. That most of it happens to be water is beside the point. I am full. My gut is working hard to digest the fiber -- a good thing because digestion is the most calorie-burning activity the human body does each day.
It always amazes me how much my cravings recede once I've eaten my planned, abstinent meal. Being full is the best frontline deterrent to giving into cravings.
That's why it is just as important that I eat as that I don't eat too much or eat the wrong things for my body, and missing a meal constitutes a break of my diet as much as eating a loaf of bread would.
When we skip or skimp, justification has an open door: I didn't have time for breakfast so I can have potato chips at lunch. But we all know that we don't feel good about ourselves after potato chips and we especially don't feel good when we're trying to lose weight.
Once we take on a way of eating, playing with it doesn't feel as emotionally good as abstaining and it makes weight loss slower.
Does anyone who isn't seriously ill want to make her weight loss slower?
No matter how we define abstience, it has its own rewards. Staying away from our demon foods becomes easier because, to some degree, the tongue and the brain forget -- if we keep them nourished and busy in other ways. In the last few days, I've had some upsets and challenges that, late at night, have faintly tempted me to get dressed again and hustle over to Han's Deli. My second thought after the "wouldn't it be nice if" is "I'm having yogurt and blueberries for breakfast in the morning!" One of the eating disorder twelve-step slogans is "There's another meal coming". That isn't always true when I'm not on a codified and shared food plan and the reassurance I feel about what I get to eat in a few hours is another form of comfort food.
Once and for all -- and I intend this post to be the final word unless I change my food plan -- this is what I eat:
Breakfast consists of four ounces of protein, one-half cup whole grain or six ounces of whole carbohydrate, 6 oz. fruit.
One cup of yogurt or a half cup of cottage cheese equals four ounces. Two eggs equals for ounces. One egg and one strip of bacon equals four ounces.
Today, for instance, I had one cup of brown rice, one scant half cup of ricotta cheese, a tablesoon of All-Fruit orange marmalade, and one orange.
It was delicious.
Lunch and dinner are identical: four ounces of protein, about twelve ounces of salad or vegetables, one tablespoon oil.
When I make lunch in an hour or so, I'll have a combination of chicken and ham, butter lettuce and tomato, and extra virgin olive oil.
It will be delicious.
Is it too rigid? Yeah, probably. But every diet is rigid or else yo-yo dieting wouldn't be the national pastime. The secret of it is harder than the execution of making and eating my food. It involves twelve-step tools -- talking to my sponsor and committing each day's menu to her, going to meetings, being in touch with other people, etc. When I don't use them, I become hungry for company, support and feedback, a sense of belonging to a world and a sense of responsibility. That's when I call up my other friends, Ben, Jerry, the Keebler elves and the Cadbury bunny.
The first way to stay out of bad company is to eat.
