Food marketers are a savvy breed. They’ve got a few seconds to catch your eye in the grocery store. One way that they can snare you is to reduce the price with quantity discounts on large package sizes or discount multi-unit packs. Man, they’re smart! Researchers find that we not only stockpile these goodies like little squirrels, we over consume them and go back for more. Save your waistline. Never eat directly out of the bag or box. Divvy the portions up into individual sandwich bags or containers and then you’ll stay in control of your own waistline.
To Puff, or Not To Puff (an oldie but a goodie)
By Michelle. W
I take a puff of the cigarette put it out and head out for my first run in my stunning Nike outfit. This is it. I am getting in shape, my first attempt at running. I am barely around the block when I start feeling awfully sick. The more I run, the worse I feel.
That’s it man, I can’t do this! Who needs to be healthy anyway? I’m going back home. This is too hard. Oh God, I am such a loser. Whatever made me think that a little running would help me quit smoking and maybe feel just a little better about myself?
Forget this, forget this outfit, forget this stupid idea. I can’t run and I’m not quitting smoking. It is too damn hard. I need my cigarettes.
A year later, newly wed, I decide to give this running thing, this quitting smoking thing another try. I mean, I don’t want my children to have a mother that smokes. I want to be a good example. Ok, I will try it again.
I dig out the old Nike outfit, totally out of style now. Who cares, I probably won’t get far anyway. I’m out the door, my lungs are on fire and I barely make it three blocks.
But, there is this voice…. a whisper that says keep going, keep going. So, next week I go out again, not far, but I am starting to feel just a little bit better.
I decide to get help to quit smoking, a weekend program which really is all about making a commitment to quit. It is hell. My husband smokes. It is a part of who we are how we spend our time together. Things slowly begin to change.
He smokes and I run. This time, I decide that the little whisper, that part of me that believed I could do it could be right. Some days are really hard. I crave a cigarette so badly. Fights with the husband, problems with my parents… I am gaining weight, argh!
I hang in there and I run. Not far, but I run and I don’t smoke. My lungs begin to feel light. I have this fresh glow on my face and I love the feel of hard earned sweat.All I had to do was listen to the whisper that promised I could do and be better. To listen to that part of me that never stopped believing if I persevered I could do it.
Last year, (twenty-five years since I began) I ran the Forzani’s Mother’s Day race with my daughter. She is twenty-two and just starting to train. Her mother is her teacher.
Michelle still has her Nike outfit. She is still running and has never looked back, except to see if her daughter is still coming along.