Cutting the Fat

Connecticut readers: On DECEMBER 1, at 7:30pm, SIMPLE LIVING AMERICA will host a special Q&A with the director of What Would Jesus Buy, Rob VanAlkemade, following a screening of his movie. As a contributing author of Get Satisfied, I will also be part of the Q & A.

Please come!

CRITERION CINEMAS
86 Temple St., New Haven
Call (203) 498-2500 for info.

Tomorrow is weigh-in day. Yes, I’m in the company of countless middle-agers who have joined Weight Watchers, and so far (it’s only been 2 weeks), so good.

It feels good to regain control, to stop and think about balance, and my attraction to this approach has got me thinking beyond my waistline. If only I could “track points” in every area, look thoughtfully at my consumption at the end of every day, and regroup. How great it would be to have this feeling of mastery over the money in my wallet, over my energy use, over the ebb and flow of my relationships. How useful it would be to have it all mapped out on a spreadsheet for my perusal, to be able to say “today I excelled”, or “this morning I overdid it.”

But the real world isn’t like that. And if I managed to design a “system” for everything, I’m sure it would become tedious very quickly. Getting back to the Weight Watchers model, you’ve got to leave room for a splurge, allow a reward for a week of wise eating. Feeling starved will only lead to a food fest. But after the splurge you might want to conserve a while, to avoid tipping the scale.

Splurge, to me, has a happy, bubbly sound, while binge takes on an ominous tone. I am thinking of these words, specifically, in relation to Christmas. It is so easy to leap from splurge (one delightfully indulgent item) to binge (can’t stop shopping even though I hate the mall) in a matter of minutes.

Does consumer binging arise from feeling starved? When we binge with our wallets, are we hungry for renewal, craving approval, starving for a deeper satisfaction? After the binge do we feel any better, or just drained? Best to back off the retail buffet if your consuming starts to make you feel consumed.

Extremism doesn’t work for most of us, not for diets, not for shopping, not for simplifying our lifestyle, and almost never in the long run. But an attitude of thoughtfulness can really effect some change. In my new weight loss effort, it occurred to me that I don’t need to eat right after awakening. I am a very early riser, and come to think of it not really hungry as I march first thing to the pantry. A simple rule of sticking to just coffee until at least 7 has defeated my Hobbit-like craving for “second breakfast” every morning.

In the Christmas shopping swirl that starts to deepen into a vortex, similarly small changes have kept things more sane this year. Mom is leading the charge to each buy 1 gift per person, and the in-laws suggested no gifts for the grownups (what a relief!). Tom and I are getting a coffeemaker and exchanging pajamas. Mom’s effort is founded on simplicity, the in-laws’ on their practicality, and Tom and I share the love for all things warm at the holiday. Simple, practical, and warm sounds quite inviting to me. And it feels like quite enough.

The Best of Times and The Worst of Times (aka Today’s Supermarket Trip)

• -My supermarket trip has me philosophizing today, and I am not alone in my Sunday reflections. This blog provokes a lot of thought, including the ending statement that, in our society, the power to buy…is the power to be.
  

The very politically incorrect movie Borat has a funny extra scene where an American man guides Borat through the dairy section of the supermarket. What is this?, asks Borat repeatedly as they walk the length of the aisle. His guide answers, with uncanny patience, Cheese, to every question. This happens at least 20 times. I hear non-Americans are stunned when they first see an American mega-supermarket. Sixteen kinds of cream cheese? 101 instant rice or pasta dishes? A whole aisle just for pet food?

Is this hell or nirvana?

It can be hell with a 5-year-old, with the constant task of negotiating what treats should be allowed, which are too unhealthy, and how to make the remaining 6 aisles fly by before Gavin, my mom, and I descend into a frothing megastore lunacy. Even without a child present, the experience is a barrage of brands, hype, and stressed-out shoppers. My feet ache and at the end I am throwing anything within easy grasp into my cart.

At the same time, I realize the privilege that we have in buying what we like—not just what nourishes us but what strikes our fancy. We opt for something new, seek out a brand that is particularly pleasing, compare calories and fat grams and come out with some sense of accomplishment and anticipation. We deposit a few boxes of Rice-a-Roni in the community food pantry box—hardly enough to balance out our big-eyed indulgences, but a nod in the right direction and a good lesson for Gavin.

Becoming vegetarian has complicated my shopping in some ways. I am a pesca vegetarian (still eating fish), and often wonder how full-throttle vegetarians (completely meatless) or vegans (no dairy or meat) do it. I have to think twice before I fall back on the old habits of chicken—a lot of seemingly meatless items like rice and vegetable soup contain chicken flavoring.

I don’t feel deprived. Our market has an entire health food section with loads of meatless choices. Even the so-called deprivation of meat is a privilege, because it is a choice. I think of the many in the world who must eat what they can manage to beg, borrow, or steal. I think of the many who don’t have the extra resources—the time, the education, the choice-centric lifestyle–to ponder ethics and make informed, globally-oriented decisions.

Our local store is, well, local. I have avoided going there for 2 reasons: the diminished choices (perhaps only 5 varieties of cream cheese!) and the limit on free time that seems to force one-stop shopping: somewhere that has a home goods aisle, a drugstore aisle, a greeting card aisle, etc. Maybe I will experiment with a shorter trip, wean myself down to fewer choices and less hassle. Maybe the time and energy I gain will let me make those extra trips for nonfood things, and still leave time and energy to spare. It is worth a shot.

This simplicity thing is a work in progress, and sometimes my idols are the people who make more sweeping choices. Yes, yes, the people who move to remote cabins to think, or even better to remote, war-torn countries to make a tangible difference. But sometimes my envy is of the more mundane simplistics—the single guy I read about in Choosing Simplicity who approached nutrition in the most pragmatic and economical ways. He ate primarily ramen noodles, varieties of protein mixed in for nutritional benefit. He saved money, he saved time, he saved the energy that I expend every 2 weeks on food choices. Or what about the woman who purchased a modest cottage, making the tiny square footage work by sleeping in a loft, paring down to only the most essential items? Having a family, at least a democratic family, definitely prevents some of the more radical choices, as different needs and preferences must be weighed.

And so, I continue to look for little ways to simplify. It’s funny to me that grocery delivery, a given when my mother’s mother was young, has come back. I’ve used the service (called Peapod here in Connecticut) and there are some inherent advantages: undistracted price comparisons (even a sort-by-price button!), the lack of random temptation, the ability to review your list and subtract as needed (it’s all just a thought process until you press the ‘confirm’ button). Still the same problem that you have with a smaller store, though: not everything you need pops up on your computer screen. No doubt the time is coming when it will.

I think a lot about how, with planning, a lot of things could be done differently. But today’s fast pace allows only a limited time for planning, and this forces choices that are less than ideal. Still, I relish the choices that might benefit my own use of time, the way our family spends its days, and maybe even in some cases the world at large. The food crowding our cabinets tonight is also food for thought. Maybe the trip was worth the aching feet.