I'm really grateful for how you encapsulated the downsides, balanced with the positive. The points you raised came at the perfect time for me and rounded out a few issues that I hadn't thought of. You are very helpful.
— Paul

You are such an awesome communicator, coach and great conveyor of your feelings. You are truly amazing. Thank you so much for sharing yourself and your knowledge with me. I soak up your wisdom like a sponge, and I'm sharing with others. This is awesome. You are helping so many of us.
— L.

I just wanted to say THANK YOU for articulating so well what I feel, think and experience as a result of my surgery. There is a certain satisfaction you get when someone can relate so well to what you're going through and for that I am grateful. Thank you again!
— Sue

Through Thick and Thin #12 (January 15, 2002)

The End of My Love Affair With Food

I'm continuing to work my program with commitment and intensity, and my program is continuing to work for me. I've lost almost 70 lbs. My sleep apnea is gone. My diabetes is primarily controlled through diet and exercise, not insulin. When Kari and I hug, our bodies are close and form an "H", not an "A" And I'm starting now to consistently receive and savor the raves of friends and associates who see and appreciate the difference in my face, body and wardrobe.

There's just one thing I find myself missing and grieving: the end of my lifelong love affair with the drama, smell, taste, texture, appearance and excitement of food. My eating program, which is working so well for me, is pretty boring and bland. Yogurt for breakfast; tea throughout the morning. My "Real Meals"* vanilla milkshake (flavored with frozen berries) for lunch and mid-afternoon snack.

And then three teeny, tiny, innocuous ounces of solid food for dinner — divided into nine smaller piles and eaten five minutes per pile. Perhaps my dinner is an ounce or more of fish or ground beef or turkey; some slivers of veggies; and some slices of fruit. If I need a mid-evening snack, perhaps a half of a graham cracker or fig newton.

*(I can't praise or thank enough this incredible Real Meals product. Two six-oz. milkshakes give me 60 grams of protein a day, plus 100% of my daily vitamin needs. They make it so easy for me to assure myself adequate nutrition on a very low-cal food program.)

Now, let me be clear: I'm not complaining. I am positively joyful with the trade I've made: weight loss, increased mobility , decreased body pain and improved appearance vs. cheap thrills. I'm just noticing how much I have been mourning the loss of the sizzle (mostly mental) of "real food". Sometimes I catch myself starting to sit on the pity pot of "I'll never be able to eat a super-giant cheeseburger or deli sandwich with the works" again. Other times I notice myself watching the TV ads, one after another, promoting empty calories and supersized meal deals. (These, however, are starting to sicken me.)

I notice the grief especially during social meals in restaurants. I've found some great coping mechanisms (like ordering a cup of soup and taking such tiny sips that I can stretch it out for the 30 — 45 minutes it takes everyone else to complete their multi-course meal). I never realized how much of a role food plays in these elaborate social rituals and interactions called "going out for dinner".

Recently I was on the road for a week to lead a seminar. I was amazed at how simple my life had become with the elimination of the infinite variety of food choices. Much less expensive too.

The important thing is that this grief and mourning will soon pass, while my weight loss and improved fitness promise a prolonged lifetime of joy and health. I can live without this particular love affair. And that's why I'm loving myself more each day as I carefully eat and exercise myself to fitness and longevity.

Glenn

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Copyright, © 2003, Glenn Goldberg. All rights reserved.
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