This is something I learned from my doctor. Some people, no matter how hard they try, cannot completely stop eating at nighttime–that’s me. Once I sit down to watch TV, the munching commences. Here’s what he suggested.
It’s probably the crunch that I like, so instead of something like pretzels, try eating dill gherkin pickles–0 calories. I can eat as many as I want. Add to that midget carrots and the crunch should be satisfied. It sounds like a pretty good idea to me except I know I’m still going to want some pretzels. Here’s my solution. I put about four pretzels alongside the plate. I count them out so that I don’t eat out of the bag.
Therefore, I’m cutting back on the carbs, and I’m eating things that are good for me.
Also, I’ve been going to bed a little earlier than usual. Less time for eating. So far I’m doing pretty good.
What’s the first thing you learn when you live in a big city or anywhere for that matter–don’t tell anyone where you live!
So what do you think my reaction might have been when I met a man in the produce department of the supermarket and he asked, “Where do you live?”
We had been having a perfectly mundane conversation about the weather and how so many of the streets were flooded while we stood beside a display of eggplants. All of a sudden he veered off and asked me where I lived. I almost picked up one of the eggplants to smash it over his head when I glanced at his face. He didn’t look like an aging lothario, so although my hand continued to rest on an eggplant, I stopped and gave my course of action some further thought.
You see, my town’s streets are divided alphabetically. It occurred to me that he might be innocently asking what section I lived in, especially when he followed up his first question with, “I live in the E Section.”
Easing my hand off the eggplant, I smiled and answered, “I live in the Z Section.”
“Oh, nice area,” he remarked. “I have a friend who lives over there.”
Our conversation ended shortly after. Poor man had no idea he could have been tomorrow’s headline–Man Massacred With a Big, Juicy Eggplant By a Crazed Woman in the Produce Department.
Doesn’t that sound delicious–veggie cheese and skim milk?
My daughter keeps telling me I should lose weight. (I know that without her constantly mentioning it to me in “not so subtle” ways.) The thing is, I don’t want to eat food that doesn’t taste good. C’mon–veggie cheese?
Well, okay, I have tried those Sargento sticks of cheese. They’re not too atrocious. And I’ve even given Laughing Cow spreadable cheeses a whirl, but to tell you the truth, I’m not laughing.
And don’t get me started on skim milk. Why even drink it–it’s colored water–so why not just drink water?
I’ve heard all the bugabaloo hype to get more exercise, change my eating habits and wolf down those vegetables. Yesterday the doctor actually told me I shouldn’t be having my glass of orange juice in the morning because it’s 91% carbohydrates. I’m not kidding. Nothing is sacred. Even orange juice is taboo.
I’m getting tired of seeing photos of women who look emaciated and being brainwashed into believing that they are visions of beauty. Marilyn Monroe’s body was beautiful. And she didn’t look like she was wasting away. Why are women so eager to believe the propaganda that they have to be skinny like models in order to be beautiful?
I’ll tell you why. Because they’re being told it’s healthy and if it’s healthy, it must be good. So, if you’re buying into the skinny-minnie theory, keep drinking that “milk” and eating that other product that is laughingly marked “cheese.”
I’m going to grill my steak now. It’s not a vegetable, but I promise to eat in moderation. That’s my key word “moderation.”