Photo by Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash+
A 25-pound hemisphere of flesh and fat has annexed itself to my midsection, and it is causing me problems. It makes it difficult for me to fasten my pants. It obstructs my sightlines looking down, such that urination is an act of blind faith. It makes me look old and fat, which is not how I prefer to think of myself.
Apparently, it is harder to lose weight when you’re older. For a year I have tried to melt away the annex through aerobic Exercise, strength-building exercise, walking, Healthy Eating, and wishful thinking. None of those, individually or in combination, has made a dent.
Finally, I took decisive action. This week I issued an executive order deporting all bathroom scales from my home, effective immediately. They offer nothing but fake news. Then I ordered layoffs for half the mirrors in my home because they are wasteful. They do nothing all day but hang around.
But after neither executive action changed the status quo of the annex, I turned to a reality-based solution: Establishing a new relationship with food.
My old relationship with food is the one I’ve enjoyed since childhood, which is just a nicer way of saying that I still eat like a child – a child who dutifully cleans his plate at every meal, and I don’t mean in the sink.
My old relationship was built on a foundation of several core beliefs. One was obligation. It was my obligation, as a well-mannered young man, to show appreciation to the cook by swallowing every last morsel. Accepting second helpings was optional and not frowned upon. The implicit understanding was that I should show my gratitude for the food I have, as so many children on other continents do not have enough. Each day our family strove to leave no crumb behind.
A second core belief was that eating equals pleasure. I liked eating because food – except in the school cafeteria – tasted good. I loved spicy foods. I loved tangy foods. I loved sweet foods. To me, the epitome of adventure was tasting exotic dishes from other cultures. As a child, the only “exotic” food available was Chinese (Cantonese only), but by young adulthood I ventured into Japanese, Korean, Indian, Mexican, Sichuan, and Cajun cuisines.
A third core principle was regularity. My strong preference was always for three meals, at roughly the same time of day. If it was noon, it was lunchtime, whether I was particularly hungry or not. Because as the grownups always reminded us, regularity was a good thing.
As food Relationships go, mine is neither the unhealthiest nor the most destructive. The literature on food relationships dwells on fad diets, eating to cope with Stress, anorexia, negative body image, avoiding entire “bad” food groups, etc. My problem, in comparison, is pretty basic: I have a faulty intake valve (a.k.a. mouth) that doesn’t know when to shut off.
That said, thinking about food in a different way may hold the answer to my relationship problem. Many nutritionists and dietitians recommend “mindful” or “intuitive” eating. On one level, that means paying attention to your body’s cues about when you’re hungry. Instead of eating meals like clockwork, you eat only when you receive a clear physical signal of hunger. It means eating only with the purpose of responding to an empty belly – not, as I often do, because I’m bored and my mouth needs something to do. It also means listening for your body’s signal that you’ve eaten enough. That’s a more subtle signal, a stop sign I tend to run through until too often, I achieve bloat state.
On another level, mindfulness means being attentive in the act of eating – eating slowly, the better to savor the taste and textures of your food. This, too, would be a radical departure from my customary eating style, which closely resembles that of Cookie Monster.
I am relieved to learn that my new relationship with food doesn’t mean I have to take the pleasure out of it. Nutritionists say food is meant to be enjoyed, as long as it’s done in moderation.
So here’s what I’m trying for the next month: I will eat only when I feel hungry, not when the clock says mealtime or my mouth is bored. I will continue to eat healthy food, but in smaller portions. I’ll work at focusing my attention while dining to maximize the taste sensations of each bite (which requires slowing down).
My wife has helpfully suggested ways I also could reduce my consumption of sugar, the unindicted co-conspirator in my weight gain. I am holding back on those measures for now. As someone (maybe Mark Twain) once remarked, if I eliminate all my vices now, what will I have left to sacrifice if I get really sick?
I was interviewed on Greg Payne’s The Cool Grandpa Podcast, about the role of grandfathers and other aspects of Retirement and Aging. You can hear it at this link.
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