Read Chicken Soup for the Dieter's Soul Online
Authors: Jack Canfield
Chicken Soup for the Dieter's Soul (25 page)
It became obvious to me that what I was lacking was accountability in my eating. I was accountable in my exercise—the physical therapist saw to that by measuring and recording my progress several times a week. I needed the same for my eating program. So I joined Weight Watchers.
That was the absolute turning point in the path to my full recovery. I got the point, so to speak. I am now counting what I am eating and relearning portion control. Weighing in weekly makes me accountable for the choices I make during the week. It helps keep me honest with myself. Journaling is the key for me. If I don’t write down what I’ve eaten, I “forget” about the fact that I have used up those points for the day. It has to be in black and white and, thankfully, in my own handwriting. My food journal is tangible evidence of what I’m doing right—and what I’m doing wrong.
I’m a people person. I always have been. But my stroke made me more introspective and reserved. That is another area in which Weight Watchers has proven to be a huge benefit.
The camaraderie of the weekly meetings is not only inspiring, it is fun. We cheer each other on, and I look forward to seeing the peoplewho have come to bemy Sunday afternoon friends. It is much more fun to share this journey than to walk the road alone. And it is much harder to give up when you know there is a group of people looking forward to seeing you each week.
Exercise is still a challenge for me. My balance isn’t 100 percent and neverwill be. But I can’t andwon’t let that stop me. I can’t imagine choosing not to move after not being able to. I’ve always heard that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone . . . but I never truly understood the truth in those words.
By the grace of God, with a lot of help from others and buckets of my own sweat and tears, I can do
Sweatin’ 3
again, and I can walk confidently around the neighborhood. There are still many evenings when I don’t feel like exercising, but I do anyway. I do because I can—and that’s a wonderful gift to make the most of.
I carry reminders of my “stroke of inspiration” every day. Most people would not notice them, but I do and I’m grateful for them. They are reminders of how far I’ve come and of where I don’t want to find myself again. I am on the path to total health, and it’s a fun and exciting road to take again.
I have lost over fifty pounds at this point. I have a long way to go . . . but I’ve come a long, long way already. Life is good.
Charmi Schroeder
D
o not dwell in the past, do not dream of the
future; concentrate the mind on the present
moment.
Buddha
You’re probably familiar with the expression “You are what you eat.” For me, it was more like: “You are WHERE you eat.” Either way, the result wasn’t pretty.
My postage stamp-sized kitchen precluded a table or even an eating bar, and the dining room table was covered with books, magazines and files, not to mention two cats basking in the sun from the only south-facing window. Even if I could have cleared a spot on the table, one of my favorite cooking shows aired at suppertime and the TV sat in the living room.
So I ended up eating on the couch.
Although an avid fan of the Food Channel, I spent so much time watching TV I didn’t have time to try out the recipes and techniques. I did most of what passed for cooking during commercials. When you only had two minutes to whip up something remotely edible, you quickly learned to ignore words like flambé, sauté and julienne and substitute microwave or delivery.
My motto was: If it couldn’t be nuked or delivered, I didn’t eat it.
Eating on the couch led to several problems. It was impossible to watch TV, balance a plate on my lap and cut food all at the same time without dropping half the contents on the cushions. Although my cats liked the arrangement and vied for who got to sit next to me while I ate, I was less happy. To cut down on cleaning bills, I gravitated toward finger foods. Pizza, chicken nuggets, chips and cookies were a lot easier to manage than linguini with tomatoes concasse or osso buco.
The combination of food and TV meant I often finished an entire meal without any recollection of having eaten it. Bags of chips and cookies disappeared the same way.
The other day when I struggled yet again to zip up my favorite pants, I discovered a more immediate problem. Eating dinner while watching food shows had not only expanded my culinary vocabulary, it had also broadened my beam.
It was time to take action. For my first step, I turned off the TV. Since I couldn’t enlarge my kitchen, I rolled up my sleeves and cleared off the dining room table. While the cats were not too happy about losing their favorite spots, the dining room looked much more inviting without mounds of papers cluttering up every surface.
Next, I opened a cookbook and started to plan healthy meals. I visited my local grocery store and took a shopping cart for a ride through the produce aisles and the meat and fish departments—hitherto strange and forbidding territory. Then I introduced myself to mixing bowls, pots and pans, and a large appliance in my kitchen called a stove.
Cooking proved more difficult than I had thought. What looks simple on TV seldom turns out that way in real life. I had neither a sous chef nor a clean-up crew to help out.
I made many discoveries on my culinary journey. One, when the recipe says one cup, it means one cup, not half a cup or two cups. Two, substituting ingredients can be a recipe for disaster. And three, four-year-old spices don’t have much flavor left in them. Many a dish I prepared went straight from oven to garbage can.
Along the way, I also learned that simple was best. That flambé means you’d better have the fire department on speed dial. And that if a recipe calls for ingredients you can’t pronounce, turn the page and try one you can actually say.
To be honest, I backslid a few times when my traitorous fingers dialed for pizza. But I persevered.
I started to enjoy cooking. I played around with textures and ate more raw or lightly grilled vegetables instead of relying on that old standby—the potato. I started using herbs and spices instead of salt, fat and sugar to flavor food. I bought a couple of new cookbooks that emphasized healthy cooking and continued experimenting with different recipes.
As a surprising side effect, now that I could actually taste my food, I found myself eating less and enjoying it more. And since I felt funny eating chips or a chocolate bar at the dining room table, which was the only place I now ate, I gradually stopped buying them. Within a couple of months, I lost fifteen pounds without dieting and without feeling deprived or hungry.
As for my favorite cooking show? I tape it and watch it later—after I’ve eaten.
Harriet Cooper
Y
ou will praise the name of the LORD your God,
who has worked wonders for you.
Joel 2:26 NIV
It’s been two years, and I can’t believe that I’ve stayed on my low-carb diet. I say “low-carb” because I know that my body needs some carbs. Otherwise, I’d fall off my treadmill. That’s another thing that amazes me—that I’ve stuck with my motorized treadmill. It’s just not like me to stick to something hard without losing my way. No sugar. No honey. And no molasses. None of my favorite foods— like Krispy Kreme doughnuts, brownies, fluffy biscuits and sweet corn bread—are on my diet. I miss them nearly every day. Every muffin I bake is from scratch, and not quite the same with Splenda and soy flour, but it’s livable, and I have lost over forty pounds.
As a diabetic, not only is my glucose level under control, but my hemoglobin levels have dropped from a poor reading of 7.5 down to a nearly normal 6.3. The lower my score is, the less likely I am to lose a foot or kidney function or my life! So my diet is not only life-changing, but it is life saving. And frankly, I could not have done this without the grace of God. I just don’t have that kind of willpower. That is why I call every day, on or off of my treadmill, eating only foods that are good for my body, my worship walk.
My goal is simple. I am never ahead of my present meal or snack. This is a walk that I take moment by moment, always remembering what doughnuts taste like. If I plan ahead, or if I look toward tomorrow, I know that I’ll fail.
There are two pictures of me that I like to compare. One is of me holding my birthday balloons, two years ago. I’m laughing at my family, and you can tell that I have a happy life. The other picture is more recent. It’s of me sitting on my husband’s lap, as we smile into the camera. The difference in me is not only that I’m slimmer, but that I can actually fit on my husband’s lap! For me, that says everything.
This has not been easy. I am not a woman who heads for the dieting magazine. I’m the one who’s drooling over the chocolate cake. Strangely enough, I still bake for my family. In fact, I do more baking for them since I know I’m not going to eat it. I do, however, get to take that first sniff, if there is a bag of doughnuts around. “Wait! Don’t open it! Let me!” Mmmmmhhh! What a wonderful smell! Then I move on to my high-protein blueberry muffin and thank God there is such a thing as toasted soy flour and Splenda.
When I met my husband, I was 120 pounds. On the outside I looked confidant, but inside I was a mess. I believed that if I lost my youth and my perfect figure, my husband could not love me. Why? Because I did not love myself. Now, at sixty, I realize that my view of myself and of my husband’s love was shallow. My husband and I will soon be married for twenty-five years. During our marriage, he has told me every day how beautiful I am to him. His love, support and faithfulness have been constant, yet only now do I believe him. Only now, at sixty, and a mere 160 pounds, do I believe that I’m beautiful.
There are diet books enough, and the Internet is full of diets, but it was not the diet that was my problem. It was the reflection that I saw of myself, not in the mirror, but in my heart. So today is a good day. It’s a day that begins anew, in a walk that is both physical and spiritual, a worship walk that I can only take from moment to moment, as I place my hand in the hand of God.
Jaye Lewis
“One thing I like about my new image is that there’s so much less of it!”
Reprinted by permission of Dan Rosanditch.
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The publisher and authors of
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OWL is a multidisciplinary care clinic dedicated to the evaluation and treatment of children who are overweight/obese.
As the largest hospital-based pediatric obesity program in New England, OWL provides more than 500 new patients each year with state-of-the-art care. OWL features innovative treatments for pediatric obesity developed through clinical research and promotes public awareness and prevention efforts.
At OWL specialists in nutrition, endocrinology, developmental pediatrics and behavioral medicine develop successful lifestyle interventions for obese children and adolescents.
