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Get thee behind me, cake, cobbler and donuts
Published January 27, 2008
The problem is, of course — as those of you who know me thought as you read that title — that there is too much behind me already. I am not altogether unlike the subject of one of my creative writing students’ profiles of a loved one which started with “My aunt was big on donuts; consequently she was big, on donuts.”
And one of my New Year’s resolutions is to continue doing something about that excess in the back yard and, more particularly, around my middle.
It is a goal that I share, I suspect, with many of you.
So, how are we going to go about it? Any ideas?
And don’t talk to me about the South Beach Diet, or Sugar Busters, or Weight Watchers, or hypnotism, or stomach staples, or amputation.
Because I already know the formula that will take the pounds off of yours truly. And it’s hardly rocket science.
What I’ve got to do is eat smaller amounts, give sweets a wide berth and offset carbohydrates with fiber In addition — drum roll, please, because this is a biggie — I’ve got to exercise every day. And I’m not talking about walking to the fridge for a snack or to the corner store for a Snickers bar.
Now, to the specifics of my four-part plan to jettison some of my cargo, which I am happy to report is already working. There is a little less of me than there was several months ago.
First, regarding portion size, my wife and I don’t order two entrees at restaurants anymore but always share one. And — guess what? — we are, unless we happen upon a joint with particularly skimpy servings, perfectly satisfied at the end of our meals. And it’s a sad, and unhealthy, trend nowadays that most places pile it on; I guess they figure they can justify charging outrageous prices by building mountain ranges of chow on the plates.
Now I’m not telling you that I’m always full when I’ve had half an order. But let’s face it, I shouldn’t get full. The truth is I could eat one heck of a lot before I get full. Consequently, I steer clear of all-you-can-eat buffets. Because the prospect of me eating all that I can is downright frightening.
Here’s another benefit of the shared entrée plan: Our bill is half of what it might have been. That’s sort of like icing on the cake (which we don’t have as often as we used to).
The carbohydrates/fiber equation is a fairly new addition to our plan. Last spring a friend put us onto a fine book called “The F. Factor Diet” and it seemed doable enough. Fiber, it seems, grabs hold of those evil carbs and runs them out of town before they can do much damage. They’re the tar-and-feather brigade of the body, the angry villagers with torches and pitchforks.
That diet lets you eat pretty much all the fiber you want and, while I’ll admit that fiber is not something I crave when I have a case of the munchies, it is food. And when I’m eating something — anything — my brain thinks that something good is happening.
The big problem, calorie-wise, for me is the sweets business. I have inherited the Rozelle sweet tooth, and am a sucker for anything on the dessert tray. Holidays, especially, are like big fields of land mines for me. During the week before the Christmas holidays every workroom in the school where I teach was loaded down with cakes and cookies and fudge and donuts. And you know as well as I do that if stuff like that is close at hand, it sometimes gets picked up and — you know the rest.
Finally, to the exercise component. My classroom is on the second floor of the high school, and I have a rule that, unless I’m carrying something heavy, I use the stairs. I swim a few laps, most early mornings, at the Recreation Center, and walk the mile and a half around my neighborhood pretty often. I’ll admit that none of this is anywhere close to the running of a marathon, but I figure it adds up. If I could stretch out all the miles that I’ve walked around Flag Drive over the last 20 years I’d be over to, say, Germany by now.
Where I could sit down to a big plate of fried schnitzel, Bavarian potatoes with sour cream, a huge bowl of apple strudel and a beer. And, after that long of a hike, I shouldn’t have to make do with a half order. Don’t you think?
© 2008 Ron Rozelle
Award-winning author Ron Rozelle has written six books. He teaches creative writing at Brazoswood High School. He can be reached at ronrozelle(at)sbcglobal.net.
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