It’s Not What We Eat, It’s How Much
I know, it’s an annoying maxim. Especially since we’ve been trained to believe the opposite, that we need to focus on specific nutrients (protein, fat, sugar) rather than on how much food we’re actually putting in our bodies.
We all want to maintain a healthy weight, but changing eating habits can be difficult—and it’s no fun depriving ourselves of our favorite foods. Thus the compromise: everything low-fat, low-sugar, low-carb. Then we can eat as much as we want without feeling guilty. Right? Perhaps. Sometimes, though, it’s worth it to have the full-fat, all-the-sugar, go-for-it-carb option. Why? Satisfaction.
Brands large and small have gone a long way to improving the flavor and texture of lower calorie yogurt and baked goods, but they often need to add extra ingredients to achieve said flavor and texture that come naturally to the original versions. More, many of those extra ingredients, while not necessarily harmful, aren’t what your body needs. To take one example: starch thickeners. Corn derivatives seem to be in everything, from compost bags to plastic water bottles to gasoline to syrup. Why do we need it as a thickener in our yogurt, too?
I know there are lots of people (and the numbers seem to grow every day) who for medical reasons need to avoid fat, sugar and carbs. I’m not saying that lower calorie options are bad for us, but they may not be as good as their advertising claims want us to believe. What I am saying is that we don’t have to look at whole milk or full-fat yogurt with fear and loathing. Or think that adding heavy cream to pasta sauce will require a twenty-mile run to work off. The real danger lies not in the ingredients themselves, but in how much of them we choose to eat. And herein lies the power of language.
In English, when we’re done eating, we often say, “I’m full.” In French they say, “Je n’ai plus faim,” meaning, “I’m no longer hungry.” There’s a big difference between feeling sated and feeling like we can’t stuff in another mouthful. Eating slowly—making a conscious effort to enjoy what we’re tasting—helps us pay attention to our bodies and recognize when it doesn’t need any more food, when it is no longer hungry. Of course I’m not saying all French people are skinny or that none of them eats their feelings, but the mindset is important.
To this end, satisfaction is key. A 100-calorie bag of cookies is all very well if we’re trying to stick to a diet, but how good can six cookies with a collective total of 100 calories really taste? We might need to eat two bags before we feel satisfied. Or, perhaps worse, feel that it’s safe to eat three or four—because when a food is low-calorie, it’s almost begging us to eat a lot of it. On the other hand, a single soft chewy cookie that’s 100 calories all on its own will taste much better, and if savored, be plenty satisfying. Besides, why eat more of something that doesn’t taste that great?
It’s a lofty goal, I know, to change the way we think about eating, and not eating, but it’s worth a try. The best part: if you stop eating when you no longer feel hungry, after the meal is over, you still have room for more—like dessert.
Eat like the French. Leave room for dessert.