The Fruit of the Vine

Today I’d like to discuss something we all do, whether we admit to it or not – we lie to ourselves about food. What do I mean by that? Well, let me ask a simple question:

Do you believe wine is a fruit?

Of course not, you say. That’s just a joke! Sure it is, but when you say it, do you feel you have permission to skip the shiny red apple and quaff a big old glass of dry red instead?

I enjoy a glass of wine just as much as anyone. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having a glass of wine with dinner or any other time for that matter. But wine is not a fruit. And it’s not a substitute for fruit in a healthy diet. (I’m ducking as I write this to protect myself from all of the empty wine bottles being hurled at me!)

There are lots of other food truisms that we use to justify our bad diet behavior. For example, you did know that chocolate is a vegetable, didn’t you? That food eaten while standing up has no calories. That a little itty bitty taste sampled when cooking doesn’t count – even a few (dozen?) itty bitty tastes. I don’t think we really believe these things, but the joke makes it easier to smile and say, “Oh what the hell.”

There’s nothing wrong with eating any way you damn well please. As long as you’re willing to accept the consequences, that is. But mostly, we’re not willing to do that. I know that for most of my life I bemoaned the fact that I “hardly ate anything at all” and still couldn’t manage my weight! It was easy to say this with a straight face if I downplayed all the little nibbles here and there that went on for most of the day, along with the “snacks” that I enjoyed after dinner every night. “It was just a teeny, tiny bowl of double chocolate fudge swirl ice cream. Really, it was.” And so the obesity goes on.

It took me a long time to start telling myself the truth about food. But lest you think I’m some kind of superwoman (you did think that, didn’t you?), I must admit that I still have frequent lapses. Like when I pour myself a rather large snifter of Pinot Noir, knowing that it is way more than five ounces (the official amount of “one serving” of wine) but rounding the calories down anyway. I know I’m full of crap when I do that, yet it doesn’t stop me.

It’s part of our food culture, to kid around with a wink and a nod whenever we want to be bad little boys and girls about how we eat. I don’t think this will ever change. All the intrepid weight maintainer can do is be aware and call themselves on it when it happens. Like right now, it’s a warm summer night and I feel like having a cold beer.

That counts as a serving of whole grains, right?