I always eat everything because of that starving kid in Africa

There is a popular restaurant in Southern California famous for its large portions—it’s called Claim Jumper (www.claimjumper.com). There is so much food per serving that a better name for the restaurant should be Heart Stopper. Or, it could be called Weight Gainer, Stomach Pumper, or Death Sooner. I’m telling you, the portions are so huge that most normal humans can’t consume the entire content. The choice of bread is not a muffin, or roll or slice, but rather a loaf. Their staple condiment served on most dishes is an apple… of sorts. Not the normal type of apple that humans would eat, rather an apple on steroids large enough to choke a racehorse. We’re talking softball size apple. I was once tempted to throw the apple at a waiter but I didn’t want to be charged for murder. You get the point… big food and lots of it.

Unfortunately we ate at Claim Jumper tonight… wife’s choice. She actually possesses self control and can eat without feeling like she has to eat everything within arm’s length. How I wish that could be me. She likes the salad bar… which takes up the length of a semi truck bed. A lot of variety, good quality and a great meal if you’re more like her than me.

For me, I don’t like eating at Claim Jumper because it can ruin my diet for a month--it always puts me under. I’m part of the .0001 that can actually eat everything put in front of me (even the apple). I don’t need it all… I don’t even want it all… I don’t even have to like it all… but, I can always eat it all. I always finish my food. That’s how I was raised. Maybe you grew up in a similar household. When I was a child I was left feeling guilty if I didn’t clear off all the food on my plate. My mom would say, “Don’t you know there’s starving children in Africa who would love that food?” I felt shame over this statement until I was in the 6th grade… that’s when I thought to say, “Really mom? Name one. Give me the name of one starving African and I’ll believe you.” She quit using that bit, but it was too late for me. I developed the habit of eating everything on my plate, my wife’s plate, kids’ plates, and the plates of the table next to me if they left before I did. I can always eat more.

Tonight I left Claim Jumper a loser once again. I failed. I even ate the slice of lettuce that was there just to decorate my plate… it too was big, the size of a snapping turtle shell. Afterwards I needed help to the car, I stumbled into the house, rolled to computer station where I promptly did a Google search for “liposuction.” Unfortunately, they’re too expensive and not open at 9:00pm. So there I sat, guilty for over eating. Defeated. Sore. And wondering if I got stretch marks around my mouth from eating the apple.

Groundhog Day & the motivation I need

Today is officially Groundhog Day where Punxsutawney Phil (the groundhog) predicts the weather for the rest of the winter (see groundhogday.org). According to legend, if the bloated squirrel sees his shadow there will be 6 more weeks of winter weather. Likewise, if he doesn’t see his shadow, it will be an early spring. It appears quite legit. And today, reports have it that Phil saw his shadow… six more weeks comes winter forecast.

To celebrate this tradition, I have decided I’m going to mirror Groundhog Day festivities with my own version of weight forecasting. If on February 2nd of each of the following years, I haven’t lost 1% of my January 1st weight (207 in 2009) I will commit to eating six weeks of groundhog only. I will actually punish myself and find, kill, sauté, and eat groundhogs. Desperate? Yes! But that’s the type of incentive a failed dieter needs as stimulus. This will cause me to be the Tony Robbins of rodent motivation. Instead of walking on burning coals, I will merely envision the eating of a varmint. I see this working each year.

Luckily for me, this past month I lost more than 2.07 lbs (actually, I lost it and gained it a few times throughout the past month… but I netted a deficit of about 4.5 pounds in January). So, the next six weeks I’m safe… it’s back to normal (rice cakes… then binge on chocolate cake… then, rice cake…).

Why McDonalds is so seductive and pizza is too

Every time I try to be a good dad and give my kids the choice of where to eat I’m the one who ends up paying for it—both financially and physically. My kids never choose Salad Plantation, Tofu Palace, or Mothers (a local restaurant where the motto is: “portions so small and bland that you’ll want to overeat when you get home”). Until about the age of twelve, my kids would always answer the “Where do you want to eat?” question with a shriek of “McDonalds.” Not every once in a while, but every time! The children’s automatic response has conditioned me to now ask my wife first. On the few occasions where she ignorantly says, “I don’t care” I would tell her that I needed her to care or we’d end up at McDeath.

McDonalds (www.mcdonalds.com) has a genius, trademarked air quality system that silently and secretly (until I discovered) pumps a insidious gas thru their ventilation system that actually infuses young children’s cells with an aroma that causes them to want to return. Once children are exposes to this aroma they will never feel fully alive until they return. It’s very complicated to explain and I could do a better job telling you in person, but it’s too confusing to write about in a blog of this nature. Even if a child never enter a McDonalds, they learn this “fully alive feeling” thru playground gossip. Like folklore, children pass onto other children the awe of McDonalds’ indoor playground, the marquee named Happy Meal, the free toy, the great ice cream, and the saltiest and best tasting fries on the planet. This information spreads like chicken pox and children throughout the world are inoculated at a very young age to shout out “McDonalds” to any form of “where to you want to go” type questions.

Honestly, I didn’t mind my kid’s McNasty choice until I was about 30 years old and it was obvious that my metabolism had slowed and this was made clear by random kids asking me if I was a talking Big Mac.

Well, tonight my wife graciously chose Round Table Pizza (www.roundtablepizza.com). I’m not usually a big fan of pizza places because I’m a real big fan of pizza (with an emphasis on ‘big’). I love pizza and as anyone who struggles with their weight will acknowledge, it’s difficult to just eat one slice. Thankfully, our local Round Table Pizza has a salad bar where I can make good choices. Tonight, my first choice was to order the all-you-can-eat verses the single serving salad bar. After two trips to the good, but unsatisfying bar… I chose to eat one piece of pizza. “That’s it” I said to myself. Unfortunately, I kept talking to myself, “That was such a small piece, go ahead and have another. Two small pieces is really like one normal one.” Second piece consumed. My family eats so slow and we ordered more pizza than they can eat and I hate to see food wasted, so I…. Third piece consumed. At this point, it appears that my wife saw the guilt on my face and said, “Why don’t we take the rest home for leftovers?” I quickly said, “Great idea, I’ll go get a box.” I combined the two pizzas into one small box. Though they looked too tight, too uncomfortable, too crowded in one box. The pepperoni slices were touching the Canadian bacon slices and disaster was imminent. Something had to be done. I had to intervene and fix things. I thought, “The food ship is sinking… I’m already wet, what’s a little more water? Eat.” Fourth piece consumed. Get out soon or die.

My learning for today: go to McDonalds next time... they have Happy Meals.

Why all national holidays should be "free" eating days

I’ve declared today (Martin Luther King Day) an eating holiday. It’s only fair. It’s what the King would have wanted (of course, I’m referring to the glutton Elvis). All holidays should be declared free-for-all eating days. Every dieting guru tells you to have an occasional free day where you eat those things that you’ve been depriving yourself… which for me is most types of calories. I’ve been told that one of the main problems with my diet is that I apparently have too many free days. If I learned to limit them to national holidays I might have a better handle on those free days.

Honestly, my bad eating days don’t always start out bad, instead they usually begin with some resolve to have a great day… what I would call an “on” day. An “on” day is where I’ll say something about 10 a.m. like, “Hey, I’m really ‘on’ today I’ve only eaten rice cakes, non-fat yogurt and tree bark. This is going to be a great day and I’ll reap the benefits at tomorrow morning’s weigh-in.” But, something usually slips throughout the “on” day (namely my self control). Then, once I screw up and eat what I know I shouldn’t eat, it’s just so easy to free fall into a “off” day and everything banned on diets seems to appear before me. Now, a rational person reading this might think, “Why does it have to be an ‘off’ day if you mess up with one meal? Why not just get back on your ‘on’ day and not let the entire day be wasted with bad food?” Well my skinny friend, that is a legitimate question and if I had an answer to that simplistic question I wouldn’t describe my eating habits as out of control, undisciplined and psychotic.

Like Martin Luther King, I’ve had a dream for 15 years that I could conquer this complex body-system that is called a metabolism. I know I will… I’ve just got to string a series of “on” days together and limit the “off” days to every other leap year. For now, I’ll have an “off” day today in observance of Martin Luther King Day and I’ll get back “on” tomorrow. Then, I’ll wait for the next national holiday that will appears in a couple of weeks—the Super Bowl.

Deception & Donuts

Unfortunately, deception is an element that failed dieters face. Self deception is real and hurtful, but when the deception targets friends and family, the guilt pours on. This morning my wife and I went to a local donut shop before our son’s baseball game. Sweets are my major weakness and donuts are right on the top of that list. My default donut choice is always an old fashion glazed. In my opinion, it is the perfect donut. If there were such thing as a donut-god, he/she/it would be shaped in the form in an old fashion form. A second donut choice doesn’t deviate that much--old fashion chocolate. I don’t do donuts daily, but I’ll occasionally begin the day with one of these because I know there are people who have been up preparing them since 4am and it serves the economy for me to eat my share (only about once a week). Today my wife chooses to eat “good” and ordered a bagel with turkey. I’m sure that’s not “good” for the Nazi-trainer-type, but for our family… that’s real good. While I’d rather her join me in eating bad (misery loves company) I respect her choice. But, between the two of us, she’s always the stronger when it comes to food, exercise, dieting… and well, morality. Because she shares my diet Coke addiction, and this particular donut store doesn’t have fountain drinks, she goes next door to the 7-11 to fulfill our addictions. While I pay for the donuts I notice the sweet lady working behind the counter graciously added a handful of donut holes to keep my old fashion glazed company. I’ve found this to be common practice at some of the higher end donut stores (those with a bathroom inside). It’s kind of like reverse tipping. I definitely don’t complain, and honestly, I’m thrilled that she went on a Diet Coke field trip. Here’s where the deception appeared… I powered thru all the donut holes without telling her. When you do stuff like that, you learn to justify your actions. In this case, I convinced myself that I didn’t lie to her because she ever asked, “Hey, was there any free donuts that Ms. Lee hid in your donut bag?” Had she asked that question I would have said, “Yes! I ate them.” I would have come clean. She didn’t. Plus, she was eating good and I wanted to help her. That’s the kind of husband I am—thoughtful and deceptive.

Sweet Cravings, Weight Watchers' Points & Skinny Cows

11:15 pm: Sweet cravings are nothing new to me nor the rest of humanity lacking self control. Kings have lost wars that were easier to fight than the sweet craving. Cravings are addressed in every dieting book I own. Because of my extensive library, I’m well aware of all the basic temptation fighters; (1) drink more water, (2) chew a stick of gum, (3) eat some protein, (4) suck on a jalapeno, or (5) use a coat hanger to wire your mouth shut. These basic craving killers work for skinny people, but I’ve tried them all and they don’t work for people who would rather have sugar than meaningful relationships.

I get cravings for sweets on a daily basis and my internal clock seems to strike “sugar” right around bed time. Instead of “winning” against this temptation, I’ve created my own personal cravings strategy where I choose to play for the “tie.” Contrary to what you might think, a “tie” is not giving up. Giving up would be considered a “lose.” For me, a lose would be a binge containing a pint of Haagen-Dazs ice cream chased down with a 16 ounce shot of caramel, then brush my teeth and repeat above… that would be a “lose” (albeit, in a sick way it would also be a win). I can usually settle the sweet craving with a “tie” if I stick to only one sweet item—that’s the real battle.

Tonight I found a Weight Watcher’s Chewy Oatmeal Raisin bar that I was hoping would satisfy my craving. It was hiding in my refrigerator from my Weight Watcher’s days (September—which is usually when I begin my “fall diet”). Weight Watchers uses a point-system and their dessert supplements are usually only worth 1 point. With most cravings, 1 point doesn’t do it for me. This particular bar is small enough for me to snort… not satisfy. I eat it though (because it was there) to hold me over as I moved from the refrigerator to the freezer (an approximate 8 inch body shift). Luckily, as I dig thru the freezer I discover I have one Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich left (140 calories). This is the equivalent of shopping at Costco and having all the sample tables unmanned. It’s awesome! This particular frozen treat will always satisfy the sweet spot for me. Not only do I love the taste of ice cream sandwiches, but it also taps into my childhood, where this particular dessert was a staple from the ice cream truck visits. I should also admit that I actually enjoy eating something that uses the word “cow” in it that won’t clog my artery. The product name (Skinny Cow) definitely fits with another dieting oxymoron—“delicious nonfat...” Using the word “skinny” in dessert is brilliant marketing, much in the same way that Del Taco (www.deltaco) has named their popular “Big Fat Steak Taco” (390 calories). Had they called it The Skinny Lean Steak Taco, it would have been kicked to the curb right next to The Cottage Cheese Enchilada.

Drive-thur Sabotage

January 15, 7:45pm: Nothing too noteworthy here unless you consider that I was one of millions of people today who got ripped-off from the drive-thru vigilante. I ordered eight chicken breasts from El Pollo Loco (http://www.elpolloloco.com/) and when I got home there was six. SIX! Not seven… not nine or even the eight I ordered, but six. How could I have fallen for the oldest trick in the drive-thru book. The trick is full proof: (1) Repeat their order correctly, (2) Act polite when the customer pulls up to the window, (3) Collect the money for eight chicken breasts, (4) Offer the correct change while being perky, (5) Offer napkins and condiments, (6) Hand customer the goods with such confidence that the customer won’t check contents, (7) Say, “Thank you very much” as the customer leaves, (8) Turn to co-workers and make fist-pump gesture as if scoring a touchdown or securing Soviet information for free, (9) Retreat to the mop closet to eat the two stolen chicken breasts, (10) Wait 20 minutes for pissed off customer to call from home and say, “No hablo ingles.”

[my right hand is raised and my left hand is on a Bible… well, not the entire Bible, just the New Testament] “This will never happen again. I promise to always check the contents of my order before I leave the drive-thru so help me God.”

By the way, only two breasts were for me. Hmmm?