LifePundit

I'd Like an Order of Vicarious Goal Fulfillment with That

A few months ago a friend alerted me to some kind of study (I want to say it was in the book, Emotional Intelligence, but who knows) that showed most of us can only press forward in one area of self-improvement or self-moderation at a time. This is good to know if you're setting yourself up for failure by trying to lose weight, save money and write two novels while continuing with everything you are already doing, all at the same time. (Tried it and it does not work.)

The one thing I remember, since I don't necessarily remember the source, is that they found that people who went window shopping before meeting friends at a restaurant ordered more and worse choices for dinner. Because they had already exerted self-control by window-shopping and not shopping-shopping, their self-control tank was half-empty.

Now here's another study that shows the ways our brains work -- or don't. If there are healthy food choices on a menu -- for example, a salad (though I can quickly make that unhealthy and yummy) -- people are more likely to do things such as order fries and other unhealthy food. They're calling this "vicarious goal fulfillment."

Here's a free and better description on Weighty Matters. You can probably google other stories, too.

Airline Makes Big Guy Buy Two Seats

This is a true story and not one that you've heard about. A friend of a friend has a rather large son (though not 555 lbs.) who is all muscle and plays football at some college. He's a monstrous guy with biceps like my thighs, only muscular and without cellulite, and weighs in at over 300 and something. So, when booking a flight, the airline made him buy two seats. This really made him and his mother mad because he's just your average college football player sort. Only in jumbo size.

Now, I have mixed feelings about this airline big-people, two-seat rule. I have flown before in the middle seat between passengers on each side who spilled over quite abundantly into my seat. The two large folks almost met in the middle, which, unfortunately, I was attempting to occupy. The thought did occur to me at the time that I was not getting full use of the seat I was paying for, and in fact, thought about charging rent. Though since they were bigger than me, and I couldn't be seen or cry for help behind the double-wall of flesh, I just endured.

So I can understand why if a person occupies more than one seat, perhaps the person in the seat who is experiencing the uninvited double occupancy of his neighbor's seat overflow really should either get a discount or a break. Yet, there is something unfair about this selling of two seats to one person. Heavy people and Southerners are the only people it's okay to make fun of.

But back to the true story of this son of a friend of a friend. He begrudgingly paid for his two seats, and showed up on time for his flight...

...only to find that the two seats weren't anywhere near each other!

S. C. Authorities Search for Mother and 555-lb. 14-year-old Son

I wish this news was really a movie because then it would be funny. A South Carolina mother didn't show up for a custody hearing and so the authorities are looking for her and her 555-lb. 14-year-old son. The reason she is in trouble with the law is that his size critically threatens his health.

You can read the breaking news story here.

Somebody suggested they look for them in all-you-can-eat restaurants. But I didn't just type that, did I?

How can you hide a 555-lb kid? How can you fit him in the car?

And I know from personal experience that 14-year-olds can be a bit frustrating. Obstreperous. Difficult. And that's without messing with their food.

I'll resist all the things I want to say, like maybe he ate her.

The Fat Cat Diet

Our vet has an obese white office cat (long-haired and maybe a few pounds less than the cat pictured). I see him every time I go in to get Tiger's blood sugar checked or to pick up more insulin or needles.

When I was recently there, I saw a great big fat white cat -- shaved and sitting in a cage. The cat looked pissed.

"Is that your office cat?" I asked.

"Yes. We shaved him so he could see how fat he was," the receptionist said.

"So the cat could see how fat he was?" I asked.

"Yes. So he'd be ashamed and lose weight," she said.

This is crazy. Does a cat care if its fat? Maybe excess poundage is a turn-on for cats. Who knows how a cat thinks? Does this cat have a mirror? Is he vain?

He sure was shaved. He looked like a cat army recruit. I asked, "Did it work?"

"No."

I stared at him. They had a big sign on his cage that said, "Do not feed, no matter what he tells you." And then instructions to feed him one spoonful of a special food in the morning and one spoonful at night. And he looked mad.

"Why's he in the cage?" I asked.

"Because he's so mad he's on a diet that he's been swatting us."

I've been thinking about this a lot. Instead of going to a spa-resort to lose weight while getting massaged and fed slices of cucumber down by the pool, what about going to a local place where they lock you naked in a room with mirrors and stick a spoonful of food through the window twice a day?

The Old Goat Eats Goat

Okay, you're on an island that's supposed to have the best restaurants in the Caribbean. So what do you do? If you're my husband, you go to a seaside cafe in Phillipsburg and.... you order GOAT for lunch.

Some things you just aren't supposed to eat. No wonder they're all in a tree.

more cat pictures

Addicted to Self-improvement Books

There are so many ways I could improve myself. All I have to do is buy the right book.

Yes, yes, I know that as a Christian the only self-improvement book I need is the bible. Maybe I can pick up a self-improvement book about that. Maybe I already have. I'm not low on self-improvement books.

In the middle of the clutter I have several on getting rid of clutter. Some have even been opened, marked up, mused over, tossed back into the clutter. I have books on how to write, how to eat, how to exercise, how to make yourself happy, how to improve your love life (not the racy ones, sorry to disappoint), how to raise a daughter, how to deal with Alzheimer's, how to train a horse, how to take care of a farm, how to save enough money for retirement by not buying books....

My current self-improvement books seem a bit at odds with each other. I'm part of a bible study that's examining the other gods that we let slip into our life, the ones that turn into "putting another god before Me." I do a lesson in the morning. Sometimes the lessons mention how body image and the effort devoted to losing weight/getting fit can be a kind of interfering god that comes between you and the real God. After I've finished that lesson, I pick up the diet solution book (mentioned in previous post) and work on how I'm going to care more about myself and put my body image and health first. Well, that's not exactly what it says, but it feels like there's something in conflict with these two.

I can make a very good case for taking care of my body with diet and exercise because it is the temple of the Lord. I'd be lying about why I'm doing it, but I could make the case. The truth is, I'm doing it because I'm VAIN.

Maybe there's another self-improvement book I could use to balance out these two. Bridge the gap. Smooth over the conflicts.

A friend of mine is also addicted to self-help books. When she and her husband were getting married and were consolidating their book collections, he was amazed at all the self-help books on her shelf. He said, "If I'd known you needed this much help, I never would have married you. I hope you're all fixed now."

We're never all fixed. And that's okay, too. But what I need to do is start WRITING self-help books instead of buying them.

First I'll need a clever title. Something like: Help Yourself! Stop Buying Self-Help Books and Start Living.

Bathing Suits, Weight Watchers and Hunger

This is me in a few weeks. I've ordered this suit from Lands End. It's on backorder. That will give me time to get down to this size AND grow my hair long.

Well, maybe not quite this size. This may be a few months away. And I'm actually going to get my hair cut, not grow it out. But you get the idea.

I like swimsuits that look like tennis dresses. Yes, I am that old. The last time I wore a bikini was three years and many pounds ago. Lapse of judgment in a foreign country, egged on by my husband. I felt silly wearing the bikini, and right now, nobody would want to see me in one. They'd be scarred for life. So, it's tennis dress-looking swimsuits for me. And if this one doesn't come in on time (or look okay), I've already received this one below, also from Lands End. Mine is just the same but has a blue skirt bottom.

Somehow, I can't muster the smiles these models have when wearing these suits. And honestly, if I looked like these models, these would not be the suits I'd be wearing.

For the first time in forever, I am motivated to change. I joined Weight Watchers last Monday night at a local church. Sadly, I just got a phone call that they didn't have enough people sign up so they're canceling for now.

Paul said the funniest thing he has ever said. "Why don't you go stand in front of Wal-Mart and recruit? You'd find a lot of eligible people."

I'd probably lose a lot of weight in the hospital, too, recovering from the assaults. "What you mean 'Would I like to join Weight Watchers?' Do I look fat to you?" And then she'd beat me to death. Or just sit on me till I was squashed into nothingness.

But motivation is motivation. I'm going to diet off some of the moving parts I have acquired in the last few years. Those places that keep walking after I've stopped. Those pointy little things on my hips that made Lily think I had tennis balls stuffed under my new tennis-looking swim skirt (since that's what I do with real tennis balls in my real tennis skirt). Mean child. Tells the truth.

I've downloaded The Beck Diet Solution to my iPod and am going to brainwash myself into "thinking like a thin person." I got the workbook on Amazon. It looks just right for me.

I've got sticky notes all over the house with my motivations on them. And cards where I've written the reasons I'm going to do this. (None of them say, "so I can wear a bikini.")

My cleverest one is "Baggy clothes only hide who you really are."

My saddest one is "People treat you differently (better) when you are smaller."

My scariest one is "You're going to live a long time. You'd better be sure you're healthy."

My truest one is "So what if you're hungry? You're going to eat again in a couple of hours. Hunger is good."

My best one is "I like me so much I'm going to choose me over food."

Do I dare say I'll be reporting my progress here? Will I be posting a photo of me in these suits?

Not unless I can figure out how to Photoshop my head onto these pictures.

Wish me luck! And send carrots.

Even Our Starving People Are Fat

I'm still trying to make sense out of how Americans spend $40 billion each year on weight-loss products and programs while 24,000 people die every day in the rest of the world from hunger related causes. I talked about this in an earlier post.

Yesterday the Salvation Army ran out of volunteers to serve in their kitchen, so they called our church, which called me. I didn't know what to expect, but Lily and I showed up, put our hairnets and plastic gloves on, and worked in different spots on the serving line.

All I did was do as I was told and this is hardly an in-depth report on the demographics of the people served by the Salvation Army. But one thing I can tell you is that nobody was skinny, and quite a few were fat.

They may have been malnourished and fat on unhealthy foods, but this is my point: in our country we have such abundance that even our "starving" people who need a free meal are fat. Or at least some of them are.

That's a blessing. And a curse.

How Did We End Up So Fat?

I've just written my second campaign for a Christian organization that's working to end world hunger. Actually, it wasn't my campaign. It is God's campaign and I was blessed to be chosen to write it.

In researching for this work, I came across some disturbing information. I don't even listen anymore when I hear the news that Americans are fat. A trip to Wal-Mart will confirm that report. What I didn't know is that the weight-loss industry brings in $40 billion dollars a year. Think of how many people that could feed!

And I also didn't know that every day 24,000 people in the world die of hunger-related causes. Or that every year 300,000-400,000 Americans die of obesity related causes.

Do you find this as disturbing as I do? Too bad we can't do a Great Fat Transfer. We weigh in and send the excess to Somalia.

Gluttony used to be one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Now it's the virtue of the covered dish supper.

Do you remember the movie "Black Hawk Down"? One of the most disturbing things about that movie to me is that the Americans called the people who were attacking us "The Skinnies." And they were. (This is not to say I wasn't disturbed by the rest of the movie -- I was. It was the language I found haunting.) I don't think the world should be divided into Skinnies and Fatties. But it is.

In our culture, fat people know they are fat, invisible and given lower status. I don't want to beat up on fat people, in part because I have a sweet tooth that's working against me and struggle with my weight, going up and down and up and down and mostly up again.

And I hate showy, one-shot spectacles designed to "raise awareness." You know. You have a church supper where you pay to eat gruel and the money goes to a shelter. These are dangerous because they make you think you did something, when you didn't really. Yet you feel good about yourself and are relieved of anxiety and guilt. "I ate gruel one time so all the babies in India would be fed." No you didn't.

As the Republican that I am, I think part of the problem is that the government has taken our money from us and told us that they are using it to feed the hungry and take care of the poor. (And after tax day, I must say that they've got to be feeding an awful lot of people for that amount.) We're relieved of responsibility to care for others without being given the gift of choosing to do it ourselves -- and feeling good about it. Others aren't personally responsible for themselves, and we're not responsible for them -- the government is. (And why is it that the less money you have, the heavier you are in America?)

And I also know that wars and repressive governments in poor countries starve their own people. That doesn't get us off the hook for helping starving people in other countries (or the war-torn countries, though that can't be fixed just by sending over food. All I'm talking about here is sending over food.)

I wonder if it isn't time for churches to develop comprehensive programs to help their members lose weight, get healthier and use the money not spent on unhealthy foods to feed The Skinnies elsewhere in the world? Here's an idea: a group within the church decides that they want to eat healthy food and save money. So they form a group that buys food in bulk, the members take turns cooking it in large quantities (but healthy portions) and group members get healthy meals every night of the week but only have to cook once. The savings from buying in bulk go to a hunger program. Over time the group loses weight, gets healthier -- and some Skinnies get fed, too. (In fact, while they're cooking they could cook healthy meals for the poor Fatties in the community.)

I can see all the reasons this won't work. People are busy. Johnny has a basketball game and I can't cook tonight or pick up the meal. Little Amanda won't eat food with specks (in this case, thyme) in it. Who thought it was a good idea to cook 40 lbs. of beets?

But something needs to work. Surely we can think of something. BooMama is on the same wavelength, because she just returned from Africa, and she's got an interesting post that's led to the "adoption" of orphans for a year. To read it, go here.

We can do something. We're killing ourselves. And they're dying.

Photo from here.

The Subway Salad I Couldn't Eat

I don't mean to pick on Subway here. We eat there a lot on road trips because we all like it and it can be a healthy choice.

But one day I got a salad there that I couldn't eat. Of course I was in a hurry. Of course there was a line at Subway, and the people behind the counter were in slow motion. I ordered a salad, which seemed like it should be fast and easy. It wasn't.

If it doesn't suit you to work behind the counter at a fast-food restaurant, you should perhaps consider finishing high school. But I didn't say anything. First the drop-out sullenly plopped some lettuce in a disposable bowl. She flicked the pieces that escaped back in. Then she plopped on the veggies I wanted -- tomatoes, cucumbers, olives. Then she took out the pre-assembled slabs of lunch meat and put them on the chopping-block counter.

With her knife, she began to cut the meat into strips. With every slice, she took off a fingertip of her plastic gloves. When all her glove fingertips were cut off and some had made their way into my salad, she sullenly picked the fingertips out of my salad and threw them away. Then she threw her gloves away and put on another pair.

I knew at that very moment that I would never, ever be able to eat that salad. Why I paid for it and walked out the door has no explanation. Perhaps, for once, I was speechless.

What would you have done?