Upstairs Downstairs

Personally, I think willpower is highly over-rated. After all, I don’t have any, and yet I lost weight and have kept it off for four years. In my opinion, that word really means ‘won’t power’ as in ‘I won’t eat this’, ‘I won’t do that,’ etc. etc. Instead, I practice discipline, trickery and deceit ! For example, OOSOOM (out of sight, out of mind) is the strategy I most commonly employ. That’s why Devin’s ice cream is buried underneath my frozen veggies, and its why the lowest calorie snacks are in the front of the cabinet. And some things, like Devin’s VAT of salted peanuts, is tucked safely out of view behind some soup cans. Yeah, I know its there, but I forget. Sorta. Its important for me to be realistic, too. From time to time I WILL be snacking. It won’t just be carrots and a tall glass of water, either. So I make sure to have treats on hand in small enough portions that I won’t overdo them, but tasty enough that I won’t be tempted to head off the range for something more dangerous. And then there’s my favorite trick of all. We live on the third floor of an elevator-less condominium. The stairs really aren’t THAT big of a deal. Except… they are. Its why we fight over who has to walk the dog before we go to bed. Its why sometimes Devin calls me from the sidewalk to ask me to throw things down to him. And its why my most treasured snacks remain in the garage. Because when the mood strikes me for something to eat, I know that (1) fruits and veggies are right at hand and (2) the other stuff is down (and back up) two flights of stairs. Now, trust me, when I’m driven, I’m driven, and I’ll head down to the garage any old time of day or night. But you’d be amazed at how much of a reinforcement it is to have to put out that little extra effort. And the time it takes to go down (and did I mention back UP?) is time that I can think through what I’m doing. To be perfectly honest, I made TWO trips downstairs today. In neither case did the round-trip inhibit me from snacking. But I do know that it gave me both a chance to reflect on what I was doing, and to pat myself on the back for not just sitting down on the garage floor and chowing down. I considered it, but tried to imagine what the neighbors would think.

May I Have a Word?

Last night I met Richard downtown for a salad at Firewood Cafe -- they make awesome creations and you have total control over the ingredients. For logistical reasons, I decided to ride my bike (rather than riding home and then taking the bus downtown), and since I was doing that much, I figured I might as well go to the gym nearby. Its a different branch of Crunch than the one I usually go to so it made the workout go by more quickly as I took in my surroundings. The space is lofty (it must have been an old bank or something) and it was full of people busily working out. And I don't know if its because there were a lot of buff people there, or because of the different lighting, or just because of where my mind was at, but at one point I caught my reflection in the mirror and thought ... "scrawny!" Now that's usually a perjorative word, but at that moment I was mostly thinking of it as descriptive of how I looked. When I got home and looked it up in the dictionary, it turns out that Merriam-Websters says 'scrawny' means 'exceptionally thin and slight or meager in body.' And frankly, I'll take it (although not the 'meager' part.) After spending a lifetime being 'pudgy' or 'chunky' or 'heavy' its an amazing transformation. (And its very Jack-Sprat-like!) Then today when I was reading Debbi's blog, she noted that she had rephrased her goal so that instead of working to 'regain' her health she wanted to 'reclaim' her health. And I was struck by the magic of those words. Just a few letters difference, but what a mindful way to think positively. So often I see people who are struggling to take charge of their weight journey just beating themselves up, using harsh words to describe themselves, and boxing themselves in with self-imposed definitions. I've been there, I know how it feels and I understand why it happens. But to turn that around, one of the first things we MUST do is to find new, better words. Words that appeal to us, enlighten us, humor us, energize us, enliven us and motivate us. This kind of positive self-talk isn't pollyanna-ism, its healing and restorative. This afternoon I went back to my regular branch of Crunch, and with the lighting I'm used to, the sparse crowd, and the mood I was in, I didn't feel 'scrawny' at all. But the thought of that word did bring a smile to my face. And anything that can make me laugh while I work out, can't be half bad.

How Much is that Pastry in the Window!?

Anyone who knows me will tell you how much I like coffee. I even switch to de-caf mid morning so I can keep drinking more. And I am, most definitely, one of those awful coffee snobs. I can't bear the stuff they sell at Starbucks -- so I usually look for a Peets. Nevertheless, whether I'm at any of the big chains, the whole time I'm buying coffee I find I'm either staring at the pastry case, or telling myself NOT to stare at the pastry case. When I was at my heaviest weight, I would often have a maple scone just because I saw it and it triggered that impulse to go for it. (Sugary pastry has a way of doing that to me). Sometimes I swear I could even hear it calling me "Hey Jonathan! I'm right here. And mighty tasty!" As a result, there were many, many days that I would actually go back for a second scone along with my second cup. Now that I'm a healthier person and make wiser nutritional choices, I'm still haunted by some of those voices from the past. I'd simply be lying if I said that I had somehow cured my predilection for sweets. So while I gave up the maple scones, I subsequently found myself re-addicted to the 'fat-free vegan' ones ... since they're so much 'healthier.' Yeah. Right. Of course, one thing that always gave me a lot of difficulty was how to journal these things. Because no matter how much I thought about it, I simply never could (or would) work up the nerve to ask the server for the nutritional info. Generally speaking I WOULD write them down, but I used to assign scones somewhat random values. And a lot of times that meant adjusting the amount so that it would fit into my daily total. (Oh, don't tell me you haven't tried that one!). At any rate, this morning, after standing in line and drooling over the pastry case, I suddenly found my own voice. 'Excuse me, I'd like to see the nutritional information for some of your scones.' (Wow, was that really ME?) After a little confusion and consternation, my friendly server at Peets brought over a three ring binder. Apparently, this information that I felt resigned to simply GUESS for the last four years, was actually right there waiting. We looked through it. Iced Maple Scone (550 calories, 2 g fiber, 12 g fat). Vegan scone (320 calories, 6 g fiber, 0 g fat). Wow. I kindly thanked the server and ordered my coffee. She asked me if seeing the information had turned me off buying the scone and I replied 'No, not at all, I just wanted to know the nutritional values.' And thus, my amazing personal victory slid quietly off into the morning sunshine.

The Truth Hurts

For most of my life I was either gaining weight or losing weight. Only in the past four years have I been practicing this crazy thing called 'maintenance.' So while I often heard frustration from people about being on a weight loss 'plateau' I couldn't actually relate it to my life. After all, I want to stay the same, now that I'm at goal. Two years ago, however, I had the 'opportunity' to learn first hand the frustration of the plateau. After a serious bout of depression I had gained back almost ten pounds. Eventually I was able to halt the gain, but it was a year-long effort to turn things around and lose again. You know what they say about payback! The interesting thing is that probably 95% of the people that come to me expressing their anger, frustration, anxiety and perplexity over being stuck at a plateau are convinced that its not about the food. They show me their food journals, they wax long about their gym routines, they protest about how much hard work they are putting into the process. 'I don't understand it, I'm doing everything now that used to help me lose weight and its not working.' First of all, let me explain that I believe these people. But when I trot out my standard reply, I often see people feeling hurt, judged, or misunderstood. Why is that? Well, here goes: 'When you are experiencing a true plateau --that is, you are not gaining, and you are not losing-- it is the result of the fact that your desire to change is exactly equal to your desire to stay the same.' Oh gosh, this does not lead to smiles or happy faces! And honestly, I don't say this to judge or criticize, I say it because its generally the truth. And sometimes its hard for us to hear the truth. So let me clarify that statement in a way that might take off some of the edge of it, by repeating something brilliant that someone told me today. During that plateau, we might be noticing all of the pain and effort and struggle and determination it takes to continue to journal, to cook and shop properly, to get exercise, and generally engage in newer healthier behaviors. Because all of those things take so much conscious effort, we are acutely aware of them and it leads us to expect results (i.e. weight loss). At the same time, when we're at a plateau, the desire to stay the same flies under the radar. Inertia or entropy are not, after all, active and visible forces. Eating even just a little extra and exercising even just a little bit less are not as noticeable as the reverse! Those behaviors might just be so instinctive that we don't even see them happening. In my case, it took a very long time before the desire to change grew stronger than the desire to stay the same. Throughout that sometimes excruciating year, I continued to journal, to limit portions, to exercise and to practice all the healthy behaviors I could think of. Its just that all of that effort was offset by the pain and anxiety and sorrow that I felt in my life and the comfort I was getting from continually overeating. Frustrating! But you might want to think of it this way. Imagine for a moment that you decide to throw in the towel. That is, imagine that you simply stop every single behavior you're engaging in for the purpose of losing. What would be left? Yep, the desire to stay the same. Only in most of our cases, that means not staying the same, but rather GAINING. Let me know if you can think of a kinder, gentler way to say this. 'Cause I could sure use one.

Recipe for Disaster

Truth be told, I'm not one for recipes. Long ago I had a couple of 'diet' recipe books and I had a few 'regular' recipe books, but since I've hit my goal weight and maintained, I've assiduously avoided the darn things. JuJu actually had a great post on this subject that made me stop and examine my feelings about it. It doesn't exactly make sense, but I think for me, recipes are a trigger food. Why else would I immediately rush to the recycling bin whenever the NY Times has its food section? Why else would I have felt so nervous having dinner at a friend's house who's floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were filled with hundreds and hundreds of them. What else would explain I've never watched a cooking show in my entire life? Its not like I was ever a gourmet (either in the preparing or the eating of food). Even though at my highest weight I ate out a great deal, the foods that I typically sought out were factory-made junk high in sugar, fat and salt. As I ponder this weird phobia, the only thing that comes to mind is that fine cooking tends to require an expression of fondness for the process, a pleasure in handling the ingredients, a sort of continual celebration of all the elements of FOOD. And all of that being around food and being so lovingly involved with it seems a little scary to me. Personally, I've never subscribed to the OA philosophy. While there are many 'old' foods that I avoid as a matter of course, I don't think it would be practical, sensible or even helpful for me to have a specific list of the 'can't haves' and rules about when and where I could eat. It would just feel to controlling and artificial. That being said, the less exposure I have to things that set off my triggers, the better. And that does mean never bringing an Oreo into the house, or buying 'real' ice cream, or baking cookies. I sometimes like to joke that 'food is my trigger food.' That's why I make Devin put his chips and crackers and cookies and candies in a separate cabinet that I have no business poking my nose into. Outta sight, outta mind. In the meantime, perhaps I ought to think about learning to tolerate the presence of cookbooks and recipes in my life. And maybe the first one shouldn't be for 'cold turkey.'

Say When

One of the things about maintenance that I have yet to figure out is how to splurge. From my own experience and from what I've read and heard, having the same food over and over and/or being continually restrictive about portions leads to discontent, boredom and --eventually-- overeating. Variety, they say, is the spice of life. Further, there have got to be times in life (weddings, vacations, holidays) when a particular day's caloric intake is going to exceed the recommended daily allotment. Most of us need that sense of freedom to indulge when the occasion arises, and not carry around a load of guilt that puts a damper on things. For me, however, I find it difficult to identify precisely what my Special Eating Opportunities are, so that I can enjoy them and move on. Part of it is the trigger aspect of particular foods that leads me into a tailspin. And another part of it is wanting to know that I've picked the right time and place and won't suddenly be regretting it a day, a week or an hour later when another, seemingly better, opportunity arises. The one success I've had with this recently was grabbing a scone at Peets. It wasn't a planned thing (so it didn't feel forced) but it felt right at that particular moment on that particular day. I was standing in line for coffee, I felt physically comfortable, my day didn't hold any particular stresses, and I had an overall feeling of control. The scone was good (tho it went too fast) and when I was done, I was done. But that was two months ago. And now I've been wondering if I 'should' try another indulgence or if there is something missing in my diet that will give me the kick that I need to feel indulgent and satisfied. I look through weeks and weeks of food journals and I see small daily treats amongst all the healthy and nutritional (and tasty) stuff so I know I'm not exactly deprived. Still, in my mind's eye I can easily recall the time I broke into Devin's treat cabinet for a small snack of peanuts. And then going back again and again and again, until I was scarfing down mouthfuls of them. For a while at my last job, I was going to the vending machine day after day and buying all the worst crap and falling into a cycle of guilt and repeated snacking. What to do? Just trust my instincts and leave well enough alone? I'm coasting along at the moment, eating and exercising well, staying pretty close to my goal weight and not feeling bored with my menu. Better to let that sleeping dog lie? Or would planning out something extra special and exotic act as a sort of innoculation against the boredom and guilt-junk eating that seems like such a constant pattern in my past? I just don't know when to say when.

Double the Salad, Double the Fun

You would think that after years and years of doing this maintenance thing, I'd have tried every trick in the book. But no, some of the totally obvious things are still out there, ready for me to stumble over them (or learn about them from my fellow sojourners!). To whit: a couple of weeks ago as I was making a salad for myself I thought 'gee, it wouldn't be all that much more effort to make a second salad and put it in the fridge for later.' DUH! Now I love salad but I hate food preparation -- the dicing and chopping (and shopping!) and cleaning up. But salad bars in San Francisco are just way too expensive for daily use, so I really have no choice but to make them myself. The same is true for fruit -- I love it, but other than apples and bananas, everything else seems to take prep time. And lets not even TALK about how expensive cut-up fruit is at the market. So for a while now I have been making double everything that takes prep time, so that the second time I want it, it's become what I call a 'grab and go' food. Pretty obvious, huh? But one of the hardest things about eating healthy and maintaing weight is that the cheapest, quickest foods out there tend to be the most unhealthy. Because I rarely drive, I almost never go by a traditional fast-food outlet (McD's, KFC, etc.) but even so, the corner markets and the local delis are all loaded with pre-packaged calorie bombs. A lot of people complain to me about how they wish they could be 'normal' and not have to think ahead, and chop and dice, and carry along food, etc. etc. I agree with that sentiment from the bottom of my heart. But I also know that what's 'normal' in American society is probably twice (or three times) the number of calories, fat grams, etc. of anything that I really NEED for nutrition. Its not fair and it makes me unhappy, too! Anyway, I guess its not really about 'fairness' or 'normal' or 'easy', is it. Its about learning the true meaning of satisfaction. And satisfaction to me includes not gaining weight. Now excuse me while I grab that gorgeous salad from the fridge that I made yesterday.