When Alex suggested members take a three day challenge by tracking every little thing they eat or drink, I thought, "Sure. Why not?"

I figured that I'd just be writing down what I was tracking in my head, so no big deal, and I could not only say I read the <i>whole</i> newsletter, but I actually took action. So I attached a sharpened pencil to my daytimer and commenced to keep track of everything I put in my mouth.

As I looked over my lists last night, I admit I was very close to tears. I would say that the past three days have been pretty typical for me - nothing really out of the ordinary that I could say messed up or changed my regular habits. So no excuse there.

I cringe to write this. Over three days, I drank a <i>total</i> of 102 ounces of liquid, consumed +/- 950 calories, and had ZERO protein. I hope y'all were sitting down for this. I swooned myself. How could I, by any stretch of the imagination, call this healthy eating? Ick.

Alex's challenge (and the outcome) brought to mind an experience I had working with a nutritionist for the benefit of a mutual client. One day while we were discussing ways in which to re-connect this starving girl to reality, the nutritionist said, "I've found that anyone who has problems with food has an almost infinite capacity for self-deception."

Ouch.

I'm certainly confronted with my capacity for self-deception. How did I ever morph the reality of that list into something different in my head? I was pretty confident I was keeping track... accurately. Of course, I filed away the decision to "...have more protein tomorrow" in the back my mind. Under a pile of other **** and covered with a mental wet-wool-blanket. Seeing in writing that I'd done that for three days in a row kind of puts my stated commitment to "get healthy" in jeopardy. And, as I am wont to tell my clients, "When the words and the actions don't match, you always go with the actions. They tell the truth."

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

So, this morning, HWHN and I had a long discussion about what it really means to change our lifestyle. As it happens, he's just had his first complete physical in five years (I see all the women roll their eyes and the men shrug) and it turns out he's great except he's pushing the envelope for cholesterol. Ah. This requires a lifestyle change for him too. No more chocolate (he's the chocoholic) and no more cheeseburgers stuffed with deep-fried onion rings. (Fortunately, HWHN is not overweight, but apparently his arteries are protesting.)

The 'lifestyle change' discussion precipitated a general discussion about our life, and we've decided to make some other changes as well. We've done this before, he and I - we know we can do it again. Changing our lives the first time meant I beat off the MS and got out of a wheelchair, and "flipping over the Monopoly board" again brought us out of the cold of the Great White Up to SandyTown and changed the course of HWHN's genetically-inherited arthritis. We can do this again.

So an "epic fail" has caused us to take stock of what we're actually doing. Not just what we <i>think</i> we're doing. No. Really doing. And we're not doing so hot on the whole self-care thing. But, that's about to change. It's already begun. HWHN wants to avoid having to take Lipitor with all its attendant side-effects, and I'd like to get out of starvation mode, continue losing weight and keep at least a little bit of hair.

Here's to Alex - thanks for the newsletter, the challenge, and the opportunity to really confront the self-deception that "...doth so easily beset us all."