In my lifetime I may have lost 1,000 pounds, including more than 100 in one session.
Since I was a teenager efforts to lose weight have cropped up time and again.
I could blame it on my grandmother, who equated food with love. She was old-time, having grown up in the hills of southern Missouri, and had two goals in life: Prepare a full-course meal three times a day, and begin each morning in the kitchen baking either a pie or cake.
Ours was a Beaver Cleaver household of extended family. Mom and I lived with her parents while Dad was in Europe for nearly three years during WWII. When he returned we stayed put.
My grandmother was thin as a rail, weighing over 100 pounds only when pregnant with my mother, but she could cook like nobody’s business. She churned out eggs, ham or bacon, the best drop biscuits in the world and a boat of steaming gravy to smother fried taters every morning.
We ate like lumberjacks.
I was an active kid, and spent most every waking moment outdoors, but that didn’t prevent my girth from gradually expanding.
First diet was in high school, one that depended heavily on protein. Then, I went to college where sedentary work, inactivity and fast food had their way.
I finally topped out at 318 in the late 1960s.
One Sunday morning I didn’t feel well. Classic cardiac problem symptoms, likely exacerbated by worry, led me to the hospital. Indigestion was the culprit, but the experience struck enough fear that a little over a year later I was down to 175.
Through the years wife Beverly and I have tried to eat more healthy foods. Now, 40 pounds heavier than I want to be, we embarked on another diet.
Highly structured, it depends on fruits and vegetables with a smidgen of protein each day. So far results have been good.
Staying power is the road to success, and it helps with us encouraging each other.
All diets are based on one thing, consuming fewer calories than are expended. Exercise helps, but healthy eating starts in the kitchen.
