Let's Do Lunch

Nelson Books

Contents

About the Author..........................................................................................ivBefore You Start This Program: Words of Caution...........................................................ixIntroduction: This Plan Is Not What You Think: It's Far Different ... and Far Better!.....................11. My Story: It Might Be Your Story, Too!.................................................................92. Grapes: And More Glorious Grapes.......................................................................253. 4 Big Secrets: And the Plan That Puts Them into Practice...............................................354. Helpful Tips: And Stark Realities......................................................................515. Conquering Cravings: And Avoiding Pitfalls That Are Sure to Arise......................................656. Eating Out: And Safely Navigating the Fast-Food Drive-Through..........................................777. 14-Day Meal Guide: For Those Who Like a Little More Structure..........................................898. Stocking Your Shelves: Using the Ultimate Grocery Shopping List........................................1059. Simple and Delicious Recipes...........................................................................121

Chapter One

It Might Be Your Story, Too!

As a little kid, my favorite thing to do was to go to Smitty's restaurant in La Porte, Indiana, and order a mouth-watering hamburger, deliciously greasy French fries, and an extra-thick chocolate "frosty malt." At every opportunity I ended up in a booth at Smitty's with one of my friends. I always felt a little mesmerized in anticipation of the food to come.

My parents knew about my fixation for this food, of course, and almost every Saturday night after Dad's gig (he had a band) they would wake me up by waving one of Smitty's burgers under my nose. I will remember as long as I live how terrific it was to wake up to this scent. This act of love endeared me to my mother and father forever.

Then came my downfall. To reward me for having brought home a good report card, my parents asked if there was anything special I would like. I thought about this for a while and decided I would like them to take me to Smitty's for "all I could eat." They agreed, and I proceeded to take in so many burgers, fries, and frosty malts that upon walking outside I upchucked all over the sidewalk. This was not what Mom and Dad had expected-nor had I-and looking back, it should have been a clue, but it wasn't.

A tradition started that night. Every time I did something good-such as make the basketball team, not miss any school, get up in the morning without being called a second time-I would ask my parents to take me to Smitty's to "pig out." It was what I wanted, and they consented. Food became a reward for me. This was the beginning of my addiction to food. Food brought pleasure. And if a little food brought a little pleasure, then more food brought more pleasure.

I ate like a horse and would assuredly have become as big as one if I hadn't been involved in athletics. Because of sports involvement, I kept my weight fairly stable and within bounds until I left college. After I married my wife, Anita, I stopped working out every day and became the proverbial couch potato. Unfortunately, my eating habits did not slow down. I gained weight by the week.

The fact that I was depressed because we were very poor didn't help matters. At my lowest moment, I remember Anita trying to cheer me up with the only thing that seemed to give me pleasure-besides her. She surprised me with two family-size pizzas she had purchased with the last money we had to our names-six valuable silver dollars that had been handed down to her, generation after generation. I cried, and she hugged me and stroked my hair and told me how much she loved me.

I rationalized my food addiction. I only ate when I was happy, sad, satisfied, frustrated, focused, confused, anxious, contented, encouraged, depressed, confident, afraid, or loving. The truth is I never ran out of reasons for eating. Within two years I had gained one hundred pounds.

I ate almost nonstop, from the time I got home from work until I went to bed. I ate everything you can imagine: hamburgers, hot dogs, tacos, nachos with cheese, French fries, milk shakes, sub sandwiches, fried chicken, fried fish, cheesecake, ice cream, chocolate bars, cashews-name any food that sounds good to the average person and I was a consumer of it!

I also ate throughout my workdays. I remember innumerable business luncheons when I actually told the waitress to serve me two full meals, one right after the other. I don't have to tell you how often my expense account was questioned.

Even Embarrassing Moments Didn't Keep Me from Stuffing My Face

Over the years, I paid a painful price for my compulsive overeating. Eating was fun, but being fat was not. I remember going to the "big and tall" clothing store and praying they had something in my size. I had a five-foot waist and a twenty-two-inch neck, and many times the shop simply didn't have anything in its inventory to fit me. I felt like a freak. When I flew first class and the stewardess had to bring me a seat belt extension, I was so embarrassed that I put my face in a magazine for the whole trip.

Then there were the times we went out to eat and everyone wanted to sit in a booth, but I just wouldn't fit. I could see the looks on the faces of the people around us as they snickered and whispered about my weight. I can't begin to tell you how bad I hurt when this happened. But I just couldn't help myself, I still sat down at a table and stuffed my big fat face.

It seems like yesterday that after I drove a golf cart, everyone in the clubhouse stared at the long black mark on my shirt caused by the steering wheel rubbing against my enormous belly. After I noticed the stares, I sat with my arms crossed over the mark and then sneaked out the back door. I went home feeling totally lost as to what to do about my problem.

I also remember my embarrassment at an amusement park, when everyone watched as I could not lock myself into the roller coaster and had to get up and leave. I went off by myself, unable to hold back the tears.

There was a day when I had to sit on one side of our friends' boat while everyone else sat on the other side. I didn't say a word as I anxiously awaited the end of the ride, and I never accepted an invitation like that again.

At a University of Minnesota wine-tasting party for the benefit of the Williams Scholarship Fund, I won the drawing for "your weight in wine." The master of ceremonies was stunned when he saw how much I weighed, but I was the one who was stunned when he announced to everyone, "The winner weighs 360 pounds!" I wanted to crawl under a table. I know my face turned beet red as I walked to the podium. That was the first time I had heard my weight broadcast to a roomful of people. The obvious now had a number attached to it, but that didn't keep the number from climbing higher.

Even when I least expected it, my weight caused me humiliation. My doctor-Neil Hoffman of Minneapolis, Minnesota-put me in the hospital for three days to give me a thorough physical. The very first evening...