Where it All Ends

My wife, Mandy, and her friend Courtney have joined together with me on a quest to get healthy, trim some fat, and basically try to look better naked. (That last part isn’t something we are joining together on…unless…)

Anyway, part of our mission is to adjust our eating habits to a more sensible, healthy method. None of us are interested in diets, which is good because it is universally known that diets do not work. What we have adopted is an eating style similar to what is outlined in Bill Phillips Body for Life program. Six days a week, the goal is to eat several small meals a day that are low in fat and high in protein, leaving the calorie counting and carb avoiding to others. One day a week is “cheat day” during which we can eat whatever we want. There are physical as well as psychological reasons for this method that you can read about and debate elsewhere. God may have rested on the seventh day, but I’ll be eating enough for both of us.

That leads me to the “test” I passed today. Today is not my cheat day; it’s Courtney’s. So, this morning after working out we sent her on her way to a day of cheeseburgers, fries and shakes (for that occasional stomach upset). Knowing this already had Mandy and me looking forward to our own cheat day, which is Sunday.

Today I also had to drive to Bloomington to take our dogs to the vet. On the way home, I started getting noticeably hungry. Part of the idea behind our program is to never become too hungry so that our bodies do not experience wild swings in insulin, so I decided to stop at the BP in Odon and try to find something healthy to eat. That, and I had to pee really badly. No force of will would save me from that. So, I swung into the parking lot, turned off the truck, and walked to the door.

Upon opening the door, I was met with the smell of pizzas that must have just come out of the oven. Tomato sauce, cheese, and pepperoni invaded my olfactory. I took an immediate right at the Jack’s Beef Jerky, walked briskly by the Grippos Barbeque Chips, and barely made it past the Beer Nuts before reaching the bathroom. I leaned against the door, heart pounding. Did those Reese Cups call my name? Nah, don’t be silly.

I finished my business and took a deep breath to face the obstacle course of marketing materials I would have to negotiate to make my destination. If I could make it to the sandwich counter, then pay and get out of there before cracking, I would be safe.

As if placed there by some omniscient, the Hostess Cupcakes met me right outside the door. I sidestepped them and just kept going. Planter’s Sunflower Seeds, Chex Mix, all sorts of hot and spicy meat products…they were all there. I stayed on course, and as I rounded the end of one aisle, there it was. Like the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey there stood before me an advertisement for Mr. Goodbar. I told myself that lesser men would have folded at the Kit-Kats, chuckled a bit, and moved on.

I finally made it to the counter. When asked what I would like, I faced one final test. Trembling and wiping beads of sweat from my upper lip, I spoke. “I’ll have a 6″ turkey on wheat, toasted, with lettuce, tomato, banana peppers, and mustard.” I swallowed hard and squeaked out a “No, thank you” when asked if I wanted chips or a cookie.

I paid as quickly as possible and stumbled out into the parking lot. I had made it! I had faced the very best marketing that Madison Avenue could condure, coupled with the smells of fresh pizza and still came out a winner!

On the way home I thoroughly enjoyed my sandwhich knowing that I had not let myself or my partners down. Cheat day will taste especially good this week.