I recently received the June 3, 2013 issue of People Magazine. Because I was interested in the articles they were featuring on the cover, I was totally surprised when I flipped through the magazine and saw that the main focus of this issue was about the little topic noted on the top of the cover: Summer's Hottest Celeb Diets!
Because I'm currently practicing the Forks Over Knives nutritional program, I was really interested to see what crazy diets celebs were on and to see if anyone was doing the same program I was. The long and short of my findings: their diets are, indeed, crazy and nobody is doing Forks Over Knives--which I found really disappointing. Not because I needed to be justified by a celebrity, but because I don't really consider the Forks Over Knives food program a diet so if a celebrity was doing it I'd consider them to be making a smart, healthy, long-term choice that could positively influence others. But alas, my hopes were dashed.
Let's see: we've got Nicole Richie and Selma Hayek doing multi-day juice cleanses, Kerry Washington taking Thermo Bubbles (a fat-busting supplement), J Lo eating two days of fruits and carbs then two days of proteins and veggies then all four food types plus healthy fats for the rest of the week, Jennifer Love Hewitt eating all her meals within an 8-hour window, Chaz Bono and Ashley Greene having meals delivered, and Patti Stanger (Millionaire Match-Maker) sprinkling Sensa on everything. Ahhhh...what we Americans will do for a beautiful body.
Because I'm currently practicing the Forks Over Knives nutritional program, I was really interested to see what crazy diets celebs were on and to see if anyone was doing the same program I was. The long and short of my findings: their diets are, indeed, crazy and nobody is doing Forks Over Knives--which I found really disappointing. Not because I needed to be justified by a celebrity, but because I don't really consider the Forks Over Knives food program a diet so if a celebrity was doing it I'd consider them to be making a smart, healthy, long-term choice that could positively influence others. But alas, my hopes were dashed.
Let's see: we've got Nicole Richie and Selma Hayek doing multi-day juice cleanses, Kerry Washington taking Thermo Bubbles (a fat-busting supplement), J Lo eating two days of fruits and carbs then two days of proteins and veggies then all four food types plus healthy fats for the rest of the week, Jennifer Love Hewitt eating all her meals within an 8-hour window, Chaz Bono and Ashley Greene having meals delivered, and Patti Stanger (Millionaire Match-Maker) sprinkling Sensa on everything. Ahhhh...what we Americans will do for a beautiful body.
But, I'm no different from them or the millions upon millions of others who want an attractive body and are willing to adjust the way they eat to get it. I haven't ever done extreme diets, but I have been known to stock my freezer with Lean Cuisine and Weight Watcher meals, count my daily intake of calories and fat grams, and limit my portions even if that kept me moderately hungry most of the time. To each their own. This blog entry is not meant to judge others about their diet choices (OK, maybe the celebs a little bit) or advocate for the "one diet everyone should be on." But, it would be crazy for me to go on an extreme nutritional program, blog about it, and NOT share my perspective on all of the diet craziness.
Throughout the course of my Forks Over Knives experiment, I’ve had one consistent frustration. Believe it or not, it has nothing to do with the bizarre foods I’ve tried, the plethora of hours I’ve logged at off-the-beaten-path grocery stores or the pining for forbidden foods. Nope. My frustration lies with one word: diet.
For me, when I hear the word “diet” the first thing I think of is someone’s desire to lose weight. They go on a “diet” to trim down. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this…with either the word or how my mind associates it. But, if I’m
truly honest with myself, almost as frequently as I associate the word with weight loss, I also associate it with vanity. This is because I assume there is one primary reason most have for losing weight: to look better. I know this is not always the case, but it is much of the time and it has been for me in the past. Maybe I’ve come to this assumption because media outlets tout weight loss to be the goal of diets rather than a wonderful side-effect of taking better care of ourselves.
The truth is, the purest sense of the term “diet” doesn’t have anything to do with weight loss. The first two definition entries for "diet" in Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary are: a) food and drink regularly provided or consumed and, b) habitual
nourishment. But our society’s fixation on being thin combined with the barrage of perpetual exposure to all-things weight loss (books, cookbooks, magazines, multi-media advertisements, weight loss programs, weight loss pills, etc.) make it nearly impossible to NOT associate "diet" with the more appropriate term: dieting. Which leads me to my frustration…
I did not begin the Forks Over Knives experiment with the goal of losing weight. Would it be a nice benefit? You bet. But that was not where my interest lied. I wanted to know what it was like to eat differently. I wanted to see how hard or easy it would be. Having given so much attention in my life to my outward appearance, I wanted to know how much an extremely pure diet would affect my inward health. The Forks Over Knives concept appeared so extreme and yet so beneficial that six weeks of my life seemed appropriate to sacrifice in order to satisfy my curiosity. To me, my intent with this experiment was depth-driven--the exact opposite of shallow vanity--which I was proud of. So when anyone innocently approached me saying something like, “So, I hear you’re on a diet,” I cringed inside and pathetically attempted to succinctly articulate what
I was doing.
You probably saw me struggle with this throughout my blogs. I never knew what exactly to call this Forks Over Knives thing. I varied my writing to include such terms as: “experiment,” “trial,” ”whole foods plant based way of eating,” "regimen,” “diet,” or (my least favorite) “nutritional program.” I particularly struggled with the terminology I used around the kids (John’s and mine). As far as values go, I really don’t want to emphasize the importance of looks to the children. They’re going to get enough of that perspective on the world without my intervention. So when I began the Forks Over Knives program, I gave special care to the way I explained to them what I was doing and why I was doing it and I tried to
use the term “nutritional program” as much as possible—without grimacing.
The results were interesting. On one hand, I had my sweet little six year old son. Because he doesn’t know any better, he just uses the term ‘nutritional program’ with the casualness of any other word. We’d be on a walk and he would randomly ask, “So mom, how’s your nutritional program going?” There was also the evening I was trying to decide where to go for dinner. He wanted Chuy’s (his favorite restaurant) but I told him I wanted to eat somewhere healthier to which he animatedly whined, “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THIS NUTRITIONAL PROGRAM?!?! NOW WE’LL NEVER EAT ANYWHERE GOOD!!!”
Then there’s John’s 10 year old daughter, Sarah. She is a beautiful, smart and amazingly wise child. She listened quietly and intently to my explanation about my Forks Over Knives experiment, how it would change what I could eat and what I hoped to learn at the end of this all. At the time I really didn’t know if she understood or if she cared at all about it because she didn’t say anything or ask any questions. But several weeks into things, I was casually discussing some random
aspect of it with John and the kids and she stopped to correct me when I accidently used the term "diet." “You mean nutritional program,” she said.
This short and sweet correction was significant. For many, this would be a side comment gone undetected. But for me, this was semantic validation. Not because Sarah said the right word, but because my sensitivity to the words I used actually made a difference in the way an impressionable young lady received my message about “dieting.” Many would tease me for the time I spend taking things seriously and fretting over random details like wording. And that’s perfectly
OK. It counters my serious nature by making me laugh. But in this case, I fervently stand by my sensitivity.
What we say matters. How we say it matters. When we diet—and most all of us will at some point--it’s important to do it in a way that promotes the message of healthy living. This small example with Sarah proves this point. She understood the
difference and knows my choice has to do with my health not my image. As a society, I believe we need to start asking ourselves how dieting is being perceived by our future generations. Do the young ones see it as us trying to fit into summer swimsuits or to look good for the opposite sex? Or do they see it as us improving how we take care of ourselves? And is our language about dieting supportive of the positive messages, or counter to it? What are we
emphasizing? It’s my firm belief that if we didn’t change a single thing about how we diet in this country except for the message as to WHY we’re dieting, we’d finally make some lasting progress with our country’s relationship to food and our physical health.
If you're enjoying my blog and know of others that may appreciate it's contents, please "like"my blog and re-post on your own Facebook page. Thanks!
Throughout the course of my Forks Over Knives experiment, I’ve had one consistent frustration. Believe it or not, it has nothing to do with the bizarre foods I’ve tried, the plethora of hours I’ve logged at off-the-beaten-path grocery stores or the pining for forbidden foods. Nope. My frustration lies with one word: diet.
For me, when I hear the word “diet” the first thing I think of is someone’s desire to lose weight. They go on a “diet” to trim down. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this…with either the word or how my mind associates it. But, if I’m
truly honest with myself, almost as frequently as I associate the word with weight loss, I also associate it with vanity. This is because I assume there is one primary reason most have for losing weight: to look better. I know this is not always the case, but it is much of the time and it has been for me in the past. Maybe I’ve come to this assumption because media outlets tout weight loss to be the goal of diets rather than a wonderful side-effect of taking better care of ourselves.
The truth is, the purest sense of the term “diet” doesn’t have anything to do with weight loss. The first two definition entries for "diet" in Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary are: a) food and drink regularly provided or consumed and, b) habitual
nourishment. But our society’s fixation on being thin combined with the barrage of perpetual exposure to all-things weight loss (books, cookbooks, magazines, multi-media advertisements, weight loss programs, weight loss pills, etc.) make it nearly impossible to NOT associate "diet" with the more appropriate term: dieting. Which leads me to my frustration…
I did not begin the Forks Over Knives experiment with the goal of losing weight. Would it be a nice benefit? You bet. But that was not where my interest lied. I wanted to know what it was like to eat differently. I wanted to see how hard or easy it would be. Having given so much attention in my life to my outward appearance, I wanted to know how much an extremely pure diet would affect my inward health. The Forks Over Knives concept appeared so extreme and yet so beneficial that six weeks of my life seemed appropriate to sacrifice in order to satisfy my curiosity. To me, my intent with this experiment was depth-driven--the exact opposite of shallow vanity--which I was proud of. So when anyone innocently approached me saying something like, “So, I hear you’re on a diet,” I cringed inside and pathetically attempted to succinctly articulate what
I was doing.
You probably saw me struggle with this throughout my blogs. I never knew what exactly to call this Forks Over Knives thing. I varied my writing to include such terms as: “experiment,” “trial,” ”whole foods plant based way of eating,” "regimen,” “diet,” or (my least favorite) “nutritional program.” I particularly struggled with the terminology I used around the kids (John’s and mine). As far as values go, I really don’t want to emphasize the importance of looks to the children. They’re going to get enough of that perspective on the world without my intervention. So when I began the Forks Over Knives program, I gave special care to the way I explained to them what I was doing and why I was doing it and I tried to
use the term “nutritional program” as much as possible—without grimacing.
The results were interesting. On one hand, I had my sweet little six year old son. Because he doesn’t know any better, he just uses the term ‘nutritional program’ with the casualness of any other word. We’d be on a walk and he would randomly ask, “So mom, how’s your nutritional program going?” There was also the evening I was trying to decide where to go for dinner. He wanted Chuy’s (his favorite restaurant) but I told him I wanted to eat somewhere healthier to which he animatedly whined, “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THIS NUTRITIONAL PROGRAM?!?! NOW WE’LL NEVER EAT ANYWHERE GOOD!!!”
Then there’s John’s 10 year old daughter, Sarah. She is a beautiful, smart and amazingly wise child. She listened quietly and intently to my explanation about my Forks Over Knives experiment, how it would change what I could eat and what I hoped to learn at the end of this all. At the time I really didn’t know if she understood or if she cared at all about it because she didn’t say anything or ask any questions. But several weeks into things, I was casually discussing some random
aspect of it with John and the kids and she stopped to correct me when I accidently used the term "diet." “You mean nutritional program,” she said.
This short and sweet correction was significant. For many, this would be a side comment gone undetected. But for me, this was semantic validation. Not because Sarah said the right word, but because my sensitivity to the words I used actually made a difference in the way an impressionable young lady received my message about “dieting.” Many would tease me for the time I spend taking things seriously and fretting over random details like wording. And that’s perfectly
OK. It counters my serious nature by making me laugh. But in this case, I fervently stand by my sensitivity.
What we say matters. How we say it matters. When we diet—and most all of us will at some point--it’s important to do it in a way that promotes the message of healthy living. This small example with Sarah proves this point. She understood the
difference and knows my choice has to do with my health not my image. As a society, I believe we need to start asking ourselves how dieting is being perceived by our future generations. Do the young ones see it as us trying to fit into summer swimsuits or to look good for the opposite sex? Or do they see it as us improving how we take care of ourselves? And is our language about dieting supportive of the positive messages, or counter to it? What are we
emphasizing? It’s my firm belief that if we didn’t change a single thing about how we diet in this country except for the message as to WHY we’re dieting, we’d finally make some lasting progress with our country’s relationship to food and our physical health.
If you're enjoying my blog and know of others that may appreciate it's contents, please "like"my blog and re-post on your own Facebook page. Thanks!
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