To diet, or not to diet: how the mind wavers

By Pringle Franklin

After Thanksgiving weekend, my zippers were not zipping. They were straining. Sure, I could ignore the problem and limit my wardrobe to items with an elasticized waist. (Think I can wear these sweatpants for the rest of my life?) I realized that I needed to get tough on myself before things snowballed. After all, Christmas was just around the corner.

I determined to plunge straight into the icy waters of dietary denial. For the next seven days, no alcohol, white bread, and sweets would cross my lips. After pulling off that achievement, I would stick to a tight, but less severe, regimen. Diet plans sound appealing after a holiday of feasting. The first day was a relief. But by the time day two rolled into day three, I had lost my appetite for the restrictions.

When the sun set and I was alone in the kitchen preparing dinner, I began anticipating the upcoming opportunity to enjoy a glass of delicious, relaxing vino. Perhaps tonight—Syrah?

Many know that my husband appreciates fine wine. Generally, he looks through his stash and finds a tasty bottle to go with our meal. From time to time, we discuss whether one should drink daily. Sam believes the red wine is good for his health. He’s a man; the way his body metabolizes alcohol seems to be different. I can look in the mirror after three or four days of consecutive drinking and see a puffier face, or get on the scale and count the extra pounds. This daily-wine-thing is not good for me, especially now that I am middle-aged.

I informed Sam about my diet plans in advance. In theory, he was supportive. After all, he is the first to notice whenever my stomach gets pouchy. (My mother warned me not to be one of those fat women with a skinny husband. Trouble!) Sam agrees whole-heartedly with her. Despite that, often he entices me to join him in enjoying the evening’s selection. As with many efforts to resist temptation, the battle is won or lost in the first five minutes.

“I chose a really nice bottle tonight, hoping you might have some.” Sam opened the white Burgundy, one of my favorites. I heard that wonderful ‘pop’ of the cork exiting the bottle. I smelled that signature charred-oak aroma. This was day five of my take-no-prisoners plan. I should have adjusted by now to my adopted asceticism, but I was teetering on the edge of collapse. I turned my face away from the wine flowing into Sam’s goblet. Like someone hanging by her fingernails, I managed not to fall. But I was cranky.

In fact, I was downright mad. Not at Sam, but at myself, for forbidding my tastebuds access to this simple, earthy pleasure.

Rrrr-rrrr-rrrr. Would it hurt to have one glass? I am not so very fat. Sam says that I am being prudish, that I should drink wine and eat less of something else. Yet if I break here, right now, I might lose all momentum. Eat. Drink. Be merry….I wonder if we have any chocolate in the house? Help!

I inhaled deeply. Moments passed. My resolve held, but I was pouting as we came to the dinner table. Something in my brain, perhaps the Holy Spirit, who hears all of our pleas, suggested that I needed an attitude adjustment. Here I was, about to sit down to a nice seafood meal that I had spent 90 minutes preparing, and I was receiving this gift of good food and good company in a spirit of disgruntlement. My focus was fixated on the one thing that I was not able to have. What a fool!

Quickly, I locked my eyes on the tall glass of sparkling water at my place. I remembered being parched in the desert country of Jordan and not having any clean water to drink. How I suffered, dry throat and sand-paper tongue, until I took a chance and heated the bacteria-infested tap water. (I still got G.I. distress a few days later.) At that time, sitting on the edge of my hotel bed at midnight and feeling that I might die of thirst, I was keenly aware of something: clean water should never be taken for granted.

Armed with that change of perspective, I picked up the chilled glass on the dinner table and took a sip. The bubbly water tickled my tongue; cool refreshment hit my palate. When I swallowed, I felt entirely satisfied—and surprisingly powerful. I did not need the wine! I needed to pay attention to the many blessings that were available to me and to enjoy the healthful feeling of sticking to my plan.

This simple struggle reminded me of the importance of guarding our thoughts. When we break a cycle of negative, self-pitying thinking with an “attitude of gratitude”, we will find ourselves empowered to do the better thing.

***

We cannot control our what enters our minds, but we can control our focus. Mastering ourselves begins with mastering our thought life.

To cultivate thankfulness, try keeping a gratitude journal. Every night before bed, write down 10 things that happened for which you are grateful. Do not repeat anything from a previous day. Find new gems daily. This practice will help clarify the seen and unseen blessings which surround you.