New Diet Tips

I’ve got some new diet tips for you today. And by that I don’t mean “diet tips that are brand new,” but instead, “tips for starting a new diet.” If you’re like me, and you probably are given the subject matter of this blog, you’ve had more than a few days in your past that you’ve labeled “Day One.” Each time out you say, “This time will be different! This time I won’t make the same mistakes as before. This time my diet will last more than eight hours.” And what happens? Well, you know the routine by now as well as I do.

So here are some tips to help you kick off your next diet.

  1. On the night before your new diet starts, don’t spend it “clearing out the pantry,” as I like to call it. How many times, before starting a low carb plan, did I think it was a good idea to eat every last chip and cracker? Not recommended.

  2. Set realistic goals for yourself. One major cause for diet failure is trying to lose too much weight too quickly. I recommend shooting for ten pounds a day. Maybe fifteen tops, but no more than that. Besides, what fun is it if you finish your diet in less than a week? Diets should be long, drawn-out, painful affairs.

  3. Start a blog. Nothing will help you stay on track in the coming weeks like public humiliation the support of your adoring fans.

  4. Stock up on Acai berries. Or better yet, plant your own Acai berry forest. This won’t help you lose weight, but you can make a LOT of money by running banner ads and selling free trials of your product for $179.95. That will take the edge off a bit.

  5. Enjoy one last beer. Because it might be upwards of two or three days before your next one.

Good luck!

Plain Jane Baked Potato

Circumstance drives me to Jason’s Deli many times each year and I always order the salad bar. I don’t know what it is about their fixins that makes their salads so good, but I just can’t resist.

Now everyone knows the best thing about a salad bar is you get to put whatever you want on it. I suppose my salads are “salads” in the technical sense: they contain traces of lettuce and were assembled under sneeze guards. But my salads are manly salads. They’re topped with shredded cheeses and adorned with bacon bits, cashews, and other crunchy things. At least two hard boiled eggs always find their way into the mix. I avoid vegetables at all costs.

But this week I tried something a bit different. I got the extraordinarily innocuously named Plain Jane Baked Potato. “Potatoes are healthy, right?” I said to myself. “Especially a nice plain one. Besides, this is Jason’s Deli: the restaurant positively awash in organic and healthy propaganda. They wouldn’t steer me wrong.” So I ordered it.

So imagine my surprise when this son of a biscuit eater showed up:

I know photos can be deceiving, but trust me this was one big freakin potato. Here’s a different image to better help you gauge its size:

And did I say, “one big potato?” No, it’s actually TWO potatoes surgically attached into one big frankenpotato. And did my eyes deceive me? Did the menu actually call this the plain jane? What kind of “plain jane” potato comes covered in a pound of cheese, bacon bits, sour cream, and a giant wad of butter?

The Point of This Post
This is the “No Help Here” category where I attempt to help you. We’ve discussed hidden calories, dangerous restaurant menu items, and topics of this sort before. And I’ve always said, “C’mon, people … this is obvious stuff. We know what ‘bad’ food looks like. No one should ever have to tell you to NOT eat ginormous platters of food.”

But I must admit that even I, the Snarky Wonder, was taken aback when afterward I decided to look up the damage on the organic this, no artificial that, healthy potato at Jason’s deli.

So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, read no further…

Hey, at least it offers nearly a full day’s worth of calcium. I’m just glad I didn’t order two of them. But, as painful as it is for me to admit it, this tasted goooood. I mean, how could it not? Just look at this puppy. I can only redeem myself here by saying: at least I followed my senses and split it into two meals.

So! Who’s up for dessert?

Low Glycemic Gotchas

When I started this latest and (frankly) greatest diet two hundred and seventy days ago, the whole idea wasn’t so much to lose weight as it was avoiding diabetes. I’ve been voluntarily taking my own blood sugar readings for a while now and when I hit the number pictured here, I knew it was time to do something.

After having tried many different diet plans, I knew I really needed something different this time. So I did two things I’d never tried before: 1) I kept track of what I ate in a journal; and 2) I went with a low glycemic plan (due to the fact that blood sugar levels were a big concern and also because it sounded cool).

A low glycemic diet is a lot like low carb, but you’re allowed to eat Twix candy bars. (In moderation, of course. No more than a dozen or so per day. (And yes, I’m kidding.)) The idea is that eating foods with low impact on your blood sugar levels is better than the opposite. The trick is figuring out which foods are which.

For example: which food do you think has the lower glycemic index (or “GI”): the aforementioned Twix bar or watermelon? No joke, folks, it actually is the Twix bar. So what gives? Well, “what gives” is the GI achilles heel: in order to do apples to apples comparison, the GI is calculated by giving people an amount of a food that delivers fifty grams of digestible carbs (meaning sugar and starches, but not fiber).

Therefore, to get 50g of digestible carbs out of a Twix, eat three-fourths of a large bar. To get that much out of watermelon, eat five cups of the stuff on a hot summer day. Ironic how making an apples to apples comparison results in something that looks like nothing of the sort.

Bottom line? Even though watermelon does indeed have a greater absolute impact on blood sugar levels, you’re probably not going to be eating it at those quantities.

So what’s a person to do with all this confusion information? Well, just do what’s never failed you: use your common sense.

Apple or birthday cake? See, it’s easier than you thought.

Hand Holding

I understand that a million different diet messages can make for some confusing times out there. The diet industry has never had a problem contradicting itself at any given time about what’s good, what’s bad, and what should simply be left alone. But I think there are a few things just about everybody can universally agree on. And one of them is that the burger pictured here is “not good for you.”

It weighs four pounds, comes on an eight-inch bun, clocks in at 4,800 calories, and a dietitian is asking ballpark owners to add a warning label to this thing. Sounds pointless to me. But I guess I should remember that this is the same society that requires a “do not eat” label on printer toner.

This hand-holding annoys me greatly. I’d like to think that there’s some sort of base level of competence we can target. You know, like, if it’s obvious to a fourth grader, you’re probably okay leaving off the “never iron clothes while they are being worn” sticker.

In this particular case, the dietitian wants this burger labeled “dietary disaster” that increases the risk of cancer and heart disease.

If there’s someone out there who thinks the four pound burger is health food, then this person is obviously a candidate for the Darwin Awards.

Plus, I don’t believe this burger causes cancer and heart disease and here’s why. Let’s say studies were done that determined that falling off a cliff was harmful to your health. Then some experts concluded you should never step off a curb. If you eat diets high in calories, saturated fat, and french fries constantly, then, yes, you’re probably in trouble. But if you head out to the ballpark once every few years and for fun you go in on this burger with a few friends and split it, then, no, you’re not going to immediately leave the ballpark on a stretcher.

This is just my long-winded way of saying “moderation.” And for those who argue that a 4,800 calorie burger isn’t “moderation” then I counter-argue that “moderation” doesn’t mean, “never ever ever having any fun whatsoever again.”

Besides, splitting this burger with a couple friends is no worse than a big Thanksgiving dinner. And I don’t see anyone campaigning to slap warning labels on turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. Unless, of course, the label were to read, “Warning! Do not insert food directly into nostrils.”

Closer Than You Think

Ever get stuck in a rut on your diet? You do all the right things, make all the right sacrifices, and eat all the right Acai berries, and then—nothing happens. Maybe you start a new diet, lose a few pounds right away, and then stop. What happens then? What do you typically do?

If you’re like most people (including me), you get discouraged. Dieting is hard enough when it’s going well. It’s nearly impossible when it’s not going anywhere at all. When confronted with that next donut, you’re only a millimeter away from making the wrong decision. And nine falls out of ten, you eat the donut. (I know I have.)

But my current diet seems to be going well. In fact, it’s not a diet at all. Regular readers know I’m eating burgers, and pizza, and Cheez-Its, and still losing weight. But I also eat my awesome vegetable soup, and apples, and—yes, every once in a while something green that isn’t actually a jalapeno pepper. In short, I think I might have actually made that dreaded lifestyle change. I’m not out of the woods yet, but after 255 days, this still feels pretty real.

My point today is that there were many, many times I couldn’t see that. I’d see the weeks and weeks where the weight didn’t seem to change. (Never mind the weeks and weeks where all it did was go up.) And you might be in that same boat right now. You’re doing all the right things, making all the right sacrifices, and even avoiding the Acai berries. Well, guess what? You may be closer than you think. Looking back, I now see that I was. So instead of getting discouraged, think, “Yes! I am doing all the right things. It may not pay off tomorrow, or next week, but it WILL pay off.”

And if that doesn’t work, just think of the scene in Cast Away where Tom Hanks rubbed sticks together in an attempt to make fire. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, and then—poof!—FIRE!

Think about it.