Calorie counting, of all dieting tricks and habits, is one of the most frustrating and potentially harmful. I earnestly caution against this immobilizing, hypnotizing practice ---particularly should you suspect yourself capable of madness. Calories, as we know, are units of energy, and offer themselves to us in all forms of nutrition. Whether your daily intake is generous or restrictive, any measure of food can be defined by their presence. Personally, I prefer to think of what I eat based on a recommended number of servings, as established over the years by prescribed guidelines, and based on basic categories including proteins, carbohydrates, dairy, vegetables, etc. I hold a rough concept of my calorie count, but also know myself well enough to avoid anything more specific (lest I become obsessed). I would hate to survey any and every package for nutrition content, a practice I have fallen victim to in previous approaches to shopping and meal preparation. That is one reason I sometimes opt for items at the grocery store that are not yet prepared, and hence not labeled for content. For example, I am wild for baked winter squash, not only because it is delicious and vitamin-rich, but also for the fact that it is difficult to surmise what caloric density its starchy flesh might provide. The same goes for, say, a hunk of freshly-baked Irish Soda Bread or popcorn heated without use of a microwave, sprinkled with Brewer's (Nutritional) Yeast (two treats I have been known to enjoy as "indulgences"). Internet access removes nearly every obstacle to recovering caloric data; I have even heard of sites that help track and chart your level of consumption. These I purposefully avoid. It is all too easy to become paralyzed by the fear of crossing past a permitted total; despite nutritional counseling, I continue to eye generous, fat-laden meals as a life threat. I am aware that there are oils essential to radiant, strong skin nails, and hair, not to mention a healthy heart and brain. Even with scads of education on the subject, I cannot imagine a time when I will not instinctively recoil at a slab of butter on my plate. (A piece of salmon or spoonful of almond butter, on the other hand, I can now report to rating favorably.) I pity anyone entrenched in a sort of calorie "Matrix", in which foods are identified and defined by numeric value and not, say, instinct or need. The Weight Watchers program should be commended for assigning points to meals and snacks that transcend characterizations of "good" or "bad", as such a strategy offers a full spectrum of choices (and helps discourage the sort of judgmental thinking wherein, say, indulgences might be strictly verboten). Still, the system's very name helps pronounce the inherent dilemma within rating what is, simply put, our essential daily sustenance. For as long as we "watch" our cuisine, it is hard to believe we will ever be truly free of diet-based thinking. Yes, we should not aspire to a blind and frivolous relationship with our selected fare, but a person should also hope to eat without trepidation and/or pangs of remorse, anger, self-flagellation.
As further insight into my own stultifying food fears, I offer a few rather extreme examples of regularly-consumed daily incidentals that I have approached at one time or another with hesitation, namely because they escape caloric definition. What is the chance of "contamination" from everyday toiletries or our own bodily fluids? Mind you, I have even pondered what my own blood might be worth in terms of nutritional figures, as I can often be found nursing a lip sore and consequently tasting said salty plasma, recycling it back into my system. (Is there a nutritional value to urine? Semen?) I have also considered the oils within lipstick for their fat content and, similarly, calories in fruit-infused chapsticks. I would never be one to engage in the kinky bedroom novelties of edible underwear or flavored lubricants, not for being a prude but, rather, for my wariness towards germs and extraneous noshing. Other items that have had me questioning their content: toothpaste, mouthwash, cough drops and syrup, vitamins and medications, artisanal salts, pet kibble. Lastly, while one can potentially find the nutritional worth of, say, church-served communion wafers and wine, how does one account for the dill seeds in a pickle jar or very black, very raw coffee and teas? Gums, mints, and garnishes such as lemon wedges or parsley sprigs are possible to measure, true, but who is going to find the caloric expense of that envelope I just licked? Such is the sad, laughable state of a mind held hostage by the mouth.
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| Slim and Trim mid-century guide (sold on Etsy.com, 12-16-2012). Info from online retailer: Front is an iconic slim woman in retro swimsuit. Includes sample low-calorie menus along with individual foods and calories. Back advertises that pamphlet is compliments of Fisher Baking Company, declaring: "ROMAN MEAL BREAD HELPS YOU STICK TO YOUR REDUCING DIET". Recommended weight based on height, age, and sex are lastly provided.   |
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