Abstinence time

You think the human condition has progressed?  This column was written almost 3 decades ago and the only thing changed is smokers are now delaying quitting nicotine until 2099 and instead of being married 17 years it’s now over 40.  But since this column appeared we’ve seen the Atkins diet, the South Beach diet, the Zone and everything from Jenny Craig to Weightwatchers.  And America is more obese today than ever before. 

January 3, 1982 

D-Day, TOMMORROW, less than 24 hours away.  

For the past three months half the adult population of the United States has been promising anyone within earshot, “Right after the first of the year I’m going on a diet, and will stay on it religiously until I’ve lost at least 20 pounds!  Well folks, right after the first of the year is tomorrow.  So be sure and stoke your tummy just before bedtime because it’s about to become a long winter. 

The other half of the citizenry, the ones not going on a diet, are anything but smug.  Tomorrow is the day they’re vowed to quit smoking.  No one with a working acquaintance of the human mind ever attempts to reduce caloric intake and eliminate nicotine from the respiratory system at the same time without first securing a reduced rate at the funny farm.  Dieting and quitting smoking at the same time are like wearing a striped shirt with a plaid sports coat or jogging in black socks.  It’s physically possible, I suppose, but never done in polite society. 

As a group the nicotine abstainers will fall by the wayside first.  Monday’s first coffee break will be filled with the mutters of people whispering, “Just one won’t hurt.”  They’ll rationalize anything as them bum a smoke from the one poor schnook who didn’t quit buying. 

By three o’clock in the afternoon, those months of promises to quite will have metamorphosed into a vow of equal intensity to “cut down” on smoking until around 1999 and then quit cold turkey. 

Dieters generally hang in there with a little more resolve.  Sometimes they even go as long as 10 days. 

First-of-the-year dieters are easy to spot.  Glazed eyes are the first giveaway.  They dart furtively around the dining area as their owner takes notes of the caloric intake of everyone eating in the room. 

During lunch this week, eavesdrop on the diners around you.  You just might overhear a man, with furrowed brow, confide to a friend that his life is on a downward spiral.  “All four kids have the flu, my wife is losing her job because of budget cutback’s.  The IRS called to wish me a happy holiday and let me know I’m being audited, and my partner just found out he’s terminal with athlete’s foot.” 

“Too bad,” his lunch mate will reply.  And then without the slightest concern for his friend’s life falling in the dumper, will switch the conversation to the stuff he thinks is really important—the diet he started yesterday. 

“Did I tell you I’m dieting?  I can just fell el the pounds falling away.  Already I’m much more alert and not nearly as tired as I used to be.  Tomorrow I’m bringing a scale to the office and put it beside my desk.  Then I can check my progress every 15 minutes or so.”   

Like a speed freak his conversation rambles without ever leaving the subject of food.  “Just look at that lady over there,” he’ll babble without even taking a breath.  “Why that hamburger she’s gulping is 525 calories.  I think I’ll have another celery stick.  That lady will have to add 75 calories if she used ketchup like you do.  I used to be into ketchup but now I eat sensibly.” 

Lunching with a friend on a diet is breaking bread with a bore.  Especially if the friend is losing weight on his diet faster than you are on yours.  Of course, a slow weight loss can be explained away by mentioning your body usually retains water the first few days of a diet. 

I don’t mean to sound like an expert on diets.  But in round numbers, to coin a phrase, I’ve lost 846 pounds in the 17 years I’ve been married.  The bad news if I’ve gained 858 in the same time span. 

Weight problems never occurred in the Disneyland of life known as bachelorhood.  How can you gain weight when your daily intake consists of two beers, a hot dog, and one nibble from the can of tuna you left in the fridge two weeks ago?  But after marching down the aisle, my wife introduced my palate to epicurean delights I never knew existed.  New dining experiences like breakfast, lunch and dinner changed my waistline forever. 

You name the diet and if I haven’t tried it I know six people who have.  I’ve witnessed intelligent, discriminating individuals start a meal with a grapefruit and follow that with a seven-course meal that would make a stevedore ill.  The whole time they were eating I kept getting assurances the grapefruit was causing them to lose weight at an unbelievable rate. 

Another acquaintance spent good money on a book telling him how to lose weight the easy way.  All this diet required was that he drink enough water each day to gag a shark.  My friend stuck faithfully with this diet until gills started to form at the back of his jaw. 

Any nutritionist will say the best way to lose weight is by using common sense, and skipping snacks.  But the best-seller lists confirm Americans are more successful shedding common sense than excess poundage. 

All this diet talk is making me feel wan and withdrawn.  I just might wait until February to start my diet.  Besides, I feel so much better when I’m 10 or 15 pounds overweight.