A Healthy Weight Does Not a Healthy Person Make

You might have seen the CNN article yesterday about the human nutrition professor who lost 27 pounds in two months while subsisting on a diet mostly made up of Twinkies, Little Debbies, Doritos, Oreos, and the like.

He wanted to prove that what matters most in losing weight is calorie-counting, not nutrition. And when it comes to the markers society traditionally uses to measure health, this "convenience store diet" was a real winner: his body fat dropped from 33.4 to 24.9 percent, his "bad" cholesterol dropped 20 percent, his "good" cholesterol increased 20 percent, and triglycerides level decreased by 39 percent.

The professor questions, "What does that mean? Does that mean I'm healthier? Or does it mean how we define health from a biology standpoint, that we're missing something?", and I'd tend to agree, especially after these past few years of reading low-carb research. I know I can lose weight on a low-fat, high-carb diet, but I don't think the constant sugar high is good for my long-term health. And I'm positive I could never sustain a low-calorie diet, especially one centered entirely on sugar.

At least the Taco Bell Drive-Thru Diet, as counter-intuitive as it seems, has a couple of lower-carb options; the creator of the Belly Fat Cure recommends 3 crunchy tacos (at 39 carbs total) for an easy meal option.

And those tacos will keep you full for hours, unlike the blood-sugar-spiking Twinkies, which must have left the professor starving half the time.

Why Can't I Commit to Dieting?

I've stopped weighing myself. I don't think I'm losing any weight, and I don't want to know about it, because I'm plenty happy casually low-carbing and feeling the improvements in my energy level, my joints, and my skin. The problem is that I ultimately do have a goal of losing weight, and it's upsetting to me that I can't commit to it.

I can't commit.

Two weeks ago, it was my birthday. Last week, it was my boyfriend's birthday. This week, it's a trip to Ohio to see Tracey and my family. Next week, it's Halloween. Then it's Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's Eve. There's just plain never a good time to get serious, because I already have cheats planned.

In theory, low-carbing is so easy. Especially with a plan like the Belly Fat Cure, where I can eat as many as 120 carbs per day, 40 carbs at a time, and 15 grams of sugar. That's a LOT. Back when I was doing the Induction phase of Atkins a couple of years ago, I was so serious. The carbiest thing I allowed myself was a sprinkling of carrot on my salad. When my office had weekly birthday celebrations, I'd cut the cake for everyone else and then walk back to my desk if I felt myself being tempted. At restaurants, I'd alter my meals significantly to cut carbs, not thinking a thing of asking for grilled instead of fried chicken or broccoli instead of pasta. Now, I use eating out as an excuse to dip into the bread basket.

The fact that it seems like everyone else has no problem sticking to their low-carb plans makes it much worse. I know that the Belly Fat Cure is working for lots of other people, and I know it'd work for me if I was just willing to put in the work for more than 5 days at a time. The creator of the diet, Jorge Cruise, even offers easy meal ideas from well-known fast food joints that I have access to. Yet when my boyfriend and I were craving Taco Bell on Sunday morning, instead of getting the three hard-shelled tacos Jorge suggested, I went for the XXL Chalupa (which has 50+ carbs) just because I told myself I was off the diet for the weekend and wanted to try the thing.

I'm concerned that even if I get more serious, I'm still going to need to cheat when my boyfriend and I go out to dinner and I review our meal for my food blog. But I know it's self-defeating to say, "I'm not going to even bother trying to commit as much as I can if I can't commit 100%," because even a little bit of low-carb eating goes a long way toward health.

I just want to be able to announce to the world that I'm changing my life and suddenly have all of my temptations go away. I don't want to live in a world where I can't have a chalupa, but I don't want to live in a world where I'm overweight, either.

How do I decide which is more important?

Worth the Hassle to Be Healthy

Kim of the wonderfully elitist Good Hair, Kim Luck commented the other day on Tracey's post about people naysaying low-carb dieting as "not real weightloss" and said:

I couldn't be paid to care if the way someone chooses to drop pounds includes drinking heavy cream through a straw.

And I was obviously like, "BFFs!" It also reminded me of a recent trip to Starbucks.

I'm not a big fan of Starbucks' coffee, but I'm a big, big fan of the fact that they'll sell me a cup of heavy cream for the price of a glass of milk. If I find myself with absolutely no desire to think about what to have for lunch, I just pop down to the Starbucks in my office building, buy a cup of heavy cream, and mix up a protein shake. No one has ever questioned me or even looked at me funny there.

I was on my way home from work the other day, though, and decided to stop in the Starbucks I pass by anyway rather than:

• go out of my way to the grocery store, or
• stop at the bank to get cash, since corner bodegas are known for only taking cash.

"May I have a grande cup of heavy cream, please?" I asked the barista.

"A cup of what?" he asked.

"Heavy whipping cream," I said.

"Do you . . . want ice in it?" he asked.

"No, thanks," I replied. "Just the cream."

He poured the cup halfway full and then said, "You don't want anything else in here?"

I said, "Nope, all cream."

He said, "Let me fill it up for you."

I said, "Uh, yeah, thanks."

"Are you gonna drink this?" he asked, looking so weirded out.

"Sure," I said. "I'm going to mix it into smoothies and cook with it and stuff."

He handed it to me, saying, "You are the first and last person who will ever ask for this."

I laughed, but this sort of thing happens way too often for comfort, especially since I eat practically every meal out. Whether it's a McDonald's cashier telling me "we don't do that" when I ask for a bunless burger or a deli including the rice with my grilled chicken when I ask them not to, low-carbing takes a little bit of gumption.

Sometimes I don't want to deal with the strange looks and just take the bun off later myself, but usually I remind myself that any amount of hassle is worth my health.

Sinkhole Swallows Sonic!

And thus, God smote the sinful, carb-filled fast food chain by BANISHING IT TO HELL!

The Devastating Effects of Carbohydrate Addiction: McDonald's Rampage Edition

Don't ask me how these things get leaked, but the surveillance video of the lady who attacked a McDonald's earlier this year because they wouldn't serve her Chicken McNuggets during breakfast is making its way through the Internets. (And thanks to Dan for sharing it.) If you've ever wondered why those signs at drive-thrus say, "For your safety and ours, we do not accept walk-ups," watching this might clear that up a little.

Start this just after a minute in to get to the good part, and believe me, it's worth it to watch to the end to see the next driver pull up and get his food like nothing happened.



Can you blame her? As much as people like to put down the low-quality, hormone-filled food from the Golden Arches, there really is something special about those McNuggets. In the 80s, they made the coolest Happy Meal toys. In the 90s, after Chuck Klosterman ate them and nothing else for 7 straight days, he admitted that he would eat them again. And in '08, they were made animatronic in the name of art:

Katie's video and poetic caption: "Chickens made of nuggets, pecking at their sauce."

And I hold firm that it's not the chicken, but the crispy, carby breading that makes them so delicious, even if they have no place in a healthy low carb diet. (Unless you use the rules of Jorge Cruise's The Belly Fat Cure to justify having up to 7 McNuggets for one of your daily carb servings, which I'm not above doing.)