Diet Book By a Junk Food Junkie

By June Volgman

A great book that mixes real-life reminders and tips on how to eat healthy and control weight every day and at special events with humor mixed in. I have always understood what to do to lose weight. This book helps the mind in how to really put that knowledge into action. (Monica K., age 45) I recommend this book. It was full of humor as well as a lot of personal stories related to weight loss. It was a good motivator for me to even make small changes in my eating habits not only to lose weight but to be healthier. I never would have thought about making a list of my favorite foods and then matching recipes to make that have those foods in them or having soup as a meal if the scale says I'm up. (Kim W.) Interesting book that lists the benefits of making better food choices. Has creative hints on how to eat more nutritious food and portion control mixed with parts of humor and small portions of autobiography of the author's life. Would be an easy and fun read for anyone looking to lose weight. (Lisa R., age 36) I truly enjoyed reading this book. Many diet books tend to be very boring and "matter of fact." This book is written with a great deal of humor. It gives a lot of suggestions and helps to establish good eating habits for a lifetime. (Lois G.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645591610

Book preview

How To Get Your Own Weigh

If you want to have your own way, go and grab your cookies, chocolates, or bags of potato chips and enjoy reading this book. But! Yes, there is always a but. Make this your swan song (saying goodbye). Sometimes in life, you have to say goodbye to friends, especially those that really weren’t friends to begin with. Then it is time to make new and better friends—ones that really want the very best for you.

Yes, I am referring to friendly foods that do and unfriendly foods that don’t belong on your grocery list. There are a few acquaintances you run into occasionally but never invite them to your house. You bump into them a couple of times a year, not occasionally every week. It may be one slice of wedding cake or celebrating a fiftieth wedding anniversary. If you don’t set a limit, you could end up with a special occasion every day. Besides birthdays, Christmas, and Fourth of July, you might find yourself celebrating Railroad Crossing Day, Hop on One Foot Day, and Climb a Tree Day.

I have learned it is possible to enjoy the celebration of events without having a slice of the decorated cake. So far, I haven’t been kicked out of my family because I don’t join in eating those extra calories. I would go as far as to say I might—don’t know for sure—have some silent admirers that wish they could say no.

Pausing here to let you know this book is not authored by a nutritionist or an MD. The only MD ever belonging behind my name was More Desserts. I want to share with you how to have little successes, and combined together, they will add up to big successes.

Here is a little bit of my story and downhill beginning. If you have ever been on a bike ride in an area with hills, does one thing stand out? You remember, right? Going downhill was a breeze, so easy. But then there was climbing up the hill, which took more effort. In much the same way is putting on and taking off weight. It was so easy to put it on but a climb to take it off.

I was four, maybe five, when my downhills began. I figured out how to get my own way. Just beg my daddy for a nickel, go out the door to the corner, and from there I could see the sign for Pinky’s grocery store. He had a big, enclosed candy section. Such excitement to make choices and leave the store with a little bag full.

When I was older, I was able to branch out from just that one section. There were goodies in the frozen section too. One sweet memory was about an orange Popsicle in one hand, a stick of black licorice in the other. I did alternating licks while watching Roy Rogers on TV. Looking back, I believe I spent my childhood single-handedly supporting at least one sugarcane plantation.

Through the years, Christmas time had some great food, but it was also a junk food paradise. My parents would buy this big double-layered box of assorted chocolates. Each piece set in a little black paper container. These had to be shared not only with other family members but also with guests. To get my favorite pieces, I would take my thumbnail and press on the bottom of each piece, just enough to reveal the flavor. If it was caramel or a chocolate-covered cherry, that was for me. I think there might have been some of you who did the same thing. Please tell me I am not the only one at [e-mail].

Then there was the time when I was the dumb-getting-dumber. It was either my seventh or eighth birthday. I was born on my dad’s birthday, and my sister’s was the following day, so my mom made one cake for all three of us. It was frosted, sitting on a shelf in the pantry. I took the step stool and climbed up to just sweep my finger across a small area on the side to have a little taste of that delicious buttercream frosting.

It was a short time later that the cake was void of any frosting. In panic of realizing what I had done, I climbed down, put the step stool away, and wanted to run away from home. There was no younger brother or sister to blame and didn’t think my mother would believe me if I accused my dad or my fourteen-year-old sister. Needless to say, I had no birthday. In my senior years, this has worked out very nicely because I tell people my mother erased my birthday, so I am one year younger than my birth certificate says.

Having your own way doesn’t always work out the way you would like it to.

Time to stop and think. If you want to weigh a certain weight, you have to weigh the situation as to what way will be the best way for you.

Chapter 2

Are You The Warden?

Who is running your life, or should the question be, what is running your life, and how did you get to where you are? Sometimes when asking questions, the answers will be found. Did you break promises you made to yourself? Is that how you ended up here in the courtroom?

You are seated, and in walk the jury. They strut past with faces of stone. You shrink down in your chair. Then there is this booming voice, All rise. The judge walks in, sits down, and the voice quietly speaks again, All may be seated. You take a quick glance at the judge whose face is stern and lacking any emotion. There are many people who came to give their support, but you can’t turn to look at them. They will see your guilt-ridden face.

When called to the witness stand, you stutter to find the words you rehearsed so many times. The prosecutor speaks, You are charged with being a foodie. Do you have any defense?

You answer right away, It was my upbringing. My parents didn’t have much money, so we filled up on fatty meat and processed food.

The prosecutor growls out the words, Have you nothing more notable than that?

You quickly answer, I sure do! I have a grandma who always bakes the best cakes, cookies, and pies. I can’t even go to her house without that aroma attacking me.

Then another question is shot out, Those are some flimsy excuses, lady. Don’t you have anything more substantial?

Yes, yes, I can’t control my eating. It is in my genes. You see, my dad used to have a flat six-pack stomach, but I never got that gene. In later years, he developed a keg, and that is the gene he gave me.

The cross-examiner approaches the bench and says, Your Honor and members of the jury, I have no medical degree, but please bear with me as I try to get this straight. Your dad wouldn’t pass his flat-ab gene and waited to give you his barrel-belly gene. You also stated your grandpa passed onto you his sweet-tooth gene. Is this what you stated, is it? Speak up, and remember you are under oath.

You come back with a reluctant yes.

The cross-examiner says, No further questions. You may step down.

Everything goes according to the way your mind predicts, and after the jury gives the verdict of guilty, you look closely at the judge, the jury, and all who attended, and they all have your face.

Don’t be frightened. You are not the first person to put themself on trial. What counts is the sentence you give yourself and how good of a warden you are going to be to carry it out.

The sentence is read. First, no more blaming the past or other people. Avoid putting yourself down. (It leads to eating excuses.) Know yourself, and give yourself attainable goals. Be willing to go against one or two tiny little genes. They may speak loudly. You have to speak louder.

Remember you took yourself to court for a reason. Now serve the sentence. Take a stand against bad habits, bad genes, and excuses. Break out of prison with a saw knife, pitchfork, and a pick-me-up spoon. Perfect for slimming meals. (Saw away the fat, pitch out the junk food, and spoon up the veggies.)

Chapter 3

How Brave Are You?

Brave enough to read a diet book by a junk food junkie. There is no presentation of qualifications. Never took nutrition classes, not even read a complete book on health or dieting. Now if you are thinking about putting this book back and looking for another, don’t be too hasty. It may be just what you need. It was for me before I wrote it, and it still is a good reminder.

There is a list of excuses out there, and they get used often and passed on. Women all the time repeat quotes like, Since I had children, I just can’t seem to lose weight. (Blame it on those little sweet babies.) Another one declared is Now that I am older, my metabolism isn’t working like it used to. How would you know that? Do you even know what metabolism is? I looked it up and have an idea but not enough to explain it. Put it this way, it is an excuse, but not one good enough to make you quit.

Who doesn’t like to put the blame on someone else? My husband can eat anything and never gain a pound. I just look at food and gain weight. The one excuse I sympathize with just a little is Other family members keep bringing all this junk food home, and I try, but my resistor just doesn’t work all the time. Of course, these and other things can be contributing factors and make things more challenging, but never a reason or excuse to give up. Be brave, and don’t look for sympathy, it is highly overrated. It more often pushes deeper in than digging out.

Let’s take one last look back where I got my start. The real beginning of all this was when I became old enough to walk. Whenever I was taken to Pinky’s grocery store by my dad, mom, or older sister, I would stare into the large glass enclosure full of all different colors of goodies. The family member that brought me could let go of my hand and be sure I wouldn’t wander off. Long looks at all that candy became my first experience in paying attention and in having patience.

My childhood home was in a quiet little neighborhood in the midwestern town of Milwaukee, a city dotted with lots of good bakeries. I didn’t know about any of them. As a young child, my awareness of sweets was only as far as Pinky’s store around the corner. He was a delightful character whom children adored and the women loved. He always took care to get them the best chickens and cuts of meat he could find so they could please their family.

My goal was to get money so I could buy candy. Getting it from my mom was extremely difficult, but it didn’t take long to discover my dad was a pushover. His parents were from Germany, and they bought a farm and eventually had six children that helped with all the chores. Dad only knew hard work, and everything was for the good of the family. It continued when he married my mother who already had four children. It was not easy, but he was handling it by trying to be the best husband and father he could be. He met his match when I came along on his forty-first birthday. As an innocent baby and toddler, he was able to handle me. The only thing I wanted was to be held, and once he got down on all fours to give me a horsey back ride, I wanted them all the time. That was when I first noticed I could get my own way with very little effort.

When I got a little older, I learned quickly that a little smile, an arm around his neck, and if necessary, a sad little whine would get me a nickel. Off to Pinky’s, coming out a few minutes later with a bag of candies. It would be eaten quickly but never hindered enjoying the next meal my mother cooked. Taste buds were a bit unusual for a little girl. I liked liver, spinach, and most other vegetables, but didn’t like pudding, Jell-O, dumplings, and cranberries. There was one smell that would send me out of the house, and that was pineapple. Yuk! Oh yes, now I love both the smell and the taste. Think about this for a moment. No matter how long you may have hated certain foods, change is not only possible, but likely if given a chance.

The most common, collective thought by anyone wanting to lose weight is this: what is the easiest, quickest, and least painful way to do it? This would be a good place for a good laugh, a slice of humor, or the tiniest little chuckle. Easy, really? Quick, you have got to be kidding! Little pain, now that is possible. Just have a good, healthy, encouraging, sugar-free, sweet attitude.

Okay, your goal may be to shrink some areas on your body. Let’s take a look at the US dollar and how much it has shrunk over the years compared to the pound. Many years ago, you could put quite a few items in a large grocery bag for just one dollar. Today, you get a smaller bag and a pack of gum lying in the bottom of the bag all by itself.

Take the pound on the other hand. It has not shrunk at all. It’s still sixteen ounces to a pound. Unless there is a malfunction, a scale will tell the truth every time, even if it makes a person cry. We may dream the pound has shrunk, therefore, so has our waistline, but looking in the mirror, unless that has shrunk also, is going to show us where we are at, and our honest mind will let us know whether or not this is where we want to be.

Let’s begin with shrinking thinking. What does that mean? It means narrowing down some thoughts and actions and expanding others. There was a time, and still is, that a large grocery store would have an aisle with close to, or maybe even more than, fifty different kinds of cookies. This was a serious downfall for me. I could have been blindfolded and go up and down the aisle grabbing and filling up a cart. When finished, there would not be one package of cookies that was not one of my favorites.

The real problem did not stop there. It happened once I got home and opened a package of cookies. The hand to mouth was like a fine-oiled machine that had no off button. It only stopped when the last cookie was chewed and swallowed. Then there came the surprise that the package was empty and the disappointment that I didn’t stop sooner. But the truth was I had never even thought about stopping