A year's diet, visualized

From BoingBoing: "One woman documented her meals for a year and turned them into a series of data visualizations. What did I learn? Well, for one thing, how important it is to gather and group data into logical and easily comparable categories. For another, this woman ate more french fries than fruit. (Via Liz Landau) — Maggie"

Commuter breakie, triple cookie, fro-yo-ho-ho

Breakfast on the hoof (or rather, in the Explorer, on the way to the train): a single reheated Pillsbury cinnamon bun. Also a can of diet cola.

Lunch was the last batch of chicken/rice/mayo. The work day was punctuated by cookie/Coke Zero breaks, three each. Three! Water I found no time for.

At North Station, I picked up a diet Mountain Dew and a raisin bran muffin for the train. Dinner, at around 9, was a leg of rotisserie chicken, and a heaping cupful of leftover salad -- cukes, tomatoes, onions. I had a glass of water with dinner, and then made J. and myself a pitcher of piña colada, same recipe as earlier this week. Were we doing this as a subconscious celebration of Obama's visit to Puerto Rico? Freud only knows.

Thinking of my health and safety, J. smuggled a half-gallon carton of cookies-'n'-cream frozen yogurt through the fences and into the freezer. I had a bowl of three scoops, and went to sleep.

Pancaches, packet tea, Uno's

A groggy breakfast of three pancakes, with blueberries, bananas, oleo, and syrup. I believe I had a can of diet Mountain Dew; have you heard of it? I had a bottle of "fuzzy" water (as J. calls it), the strawberry-kiwi kind, on the train.

Lunch was again chicken and rice with the tangy mayo. Over the course of the workday, I had two cans of Coke Zero, and three (3) pink princess sugar cookies.

I took an hour to lie on the grass at Boston Common and work on poems, during which time I refreshed my musing self with a bottleful of instant zero-cal, sucralose-sweetened, peach-flavored iced tea, made from a sachet that came in a bundle of office supply samples.

At workshop proper, I had a cup of Qdoba's tortilla soup, without cheese and sour cream -- behold my restaint. I also bought, and ate at least half of, an order of vegetarian nachos, for the table: Chips! Cheese! Sour cream! Pinto beans! Mild salsa! Behold my hunger.

In the car with J. on the road to the west, we shared a can of Coke Zero. Our destination was Uno's in Leominster, where we'd play out the rest of the evening while watching the conclusion of Game Seven of the Stanley Cup finals. We split an avocado egg roll app, and an order of scampi-style shrimp with white beans and a bread stick. I imbibed multiple diet colas, and had a third of J.'s order of honey-BBQ [such as it is] boneless chicken bites. On impulse, when the aroma of another table's order wafted over to us, we also got some french fries. Ketchup ensued.

Waffles, leftovers, a late dinner

Breakfast was waffles! I'm telling you folks, this kind of decadence can't be sustainable. Oleo, syrup (not low-cal: we'll have to remedy that), blueberries, and bananas. The original stack was two, but when my back was turned, a third was added. I have a suspect in mind. I drank, most predictably, a can of diet Mountain Dew.

Lunch was another piece of leftover chicken, with a cup of the same rice pilaf, and again a teaspoon of the olive-oil mayo. Tasty. Also during the workday, a few refills of my water mug, a can of Coke Zero, and two of the princess sugar cookies.

After work, I went to the gym, and drank a bottle of water there. At the Melville apartment, I had a few spoonfuls of the macaroni-chicken-turmeric-pea dish from the other night, just to ward off the quiet ache of stomach grumbling.

A very late dinner (11ish?) while watching Seinfeld when I got back to Lunenburg -- two bowlfuls of J's pasta dish, consisting of whole-wheat elbows, mushrooms, spinach, and a sauce consisting of low-fat sour cream and... other things, which in my haste to inhale the meal I did not consider too carefully. At the chef's suggestion, I added much salt. Also a leftover hot dog with mustard (no bun); a can of Coke Zero, and half of J's bottle of fizzy water.

Hot buns to start, but an otherwise restrained day

Breakfast on the run to the train: two Pillsbury cinnamon buns, with a can of diet root beer.

Lunch: a cup of rice pilaf, reheated, with a piece of grilled chicken, skin-on. I mixed a teaspoon of reduced-fat, olive-oil-adulterated mayo into the dish. Kate stopped by and ate her lunch wrap from the Campus Trolley here, and gave me a bite, so that's what, one-tenth of a serving of lettuce and tomato.


Dinner was 1.5 hot dogs on grilled rolls, with mustard, ketchup, and finely-diced red onion; salad with spinach, tomatoes, red and green peppers, and onions, with a little raspberry vinaigrette; and cheese tortellini tossed in olive oil and pasta cheese. I drank diet Mountain Dew, surprising no one.


We made bagel chips with the leftover mini-bagels from Saturday's shower, and only tasted them; I'll probably make dipping paste with white beans or chick peas or maybe cucumber. J. and I, while we sliced bagels into thin little bagel proto-chips, shared a mini pecan roll that had snuck into the bagel box.

We went to the gym, and split a bottle of kiwi-raspberry water there, stayin' hydrated. Back at the house, we refueled with pina colada -- Bacardi rum, a banana, canned chunk pineapple with the can juice, crema de coco, some white wine, and the ice. It was great, plus, potassium.

J. and I split a pretty-pretty-princess sugar cookie in the shape of a crown (another leftover from the shower) while we watched some of the Bruins game.

Jamie Oliver's junk food living room

Jamie Oliver's passion for reforming the way American schoolchildren eat so far (according to progress shown on the show Food Revolution) is both ineffective and unlikable. But I like that he keeps working toward having an effect, even if his tone often seems miscalibrated -- too strident, too alienating, polarizing. But the newest episode shows him taking a new leaf, bringing in persons for whom poor eating habits have resulted in health issues in later life, and the response from his student audience looks to the camera like a positive one. Oliver seems to be dividing his resources between two aims: the catalytic one, by which he hopes to kindle a new attitude towards diet and personal growth, in parents and students; and the journalistic, involving his scrutiny of the entrenched system that allies school cafeterias with industrial food suppliers. It'd be nice if he had few cut-away segments, showing the work of a separate journalistic, investigative team, that could focus on these political questions, while Oliver himself presses on with the campaign for cultural change. The photo above shows a house filled with a year's worth of junk and fast food, which Oliver used to ignite new awareness in the family living there: eat better or doom! They were thoroughly disgusted by the spectacle of their poor dietary habits in aggregate, and professed their shared intention to change their ways. Great. Inspired, I took a look online for a recipe for homemade Greek-style yogurt. I'll get off the crap food yet.

Hitchens on healthier eating habits

Incidentally, and to give you a brief report on food intake, I have found it relatively easy to ingest smaller portions of leaner and better nosh, such as mercury-sodden swordfish. But here’s what causes me to laugh in a hollow manner: almost every diet guide that I have been shown contains a stipulation about the “size matters” element of the platter. Your chunk of fish or lamb or lean steak should not be larger than a cigarette pack or a deck of cards. That’s a terrific way to wean a guy who will go to Las Vegas to make an idiot of himself at the blackjack tables where they bring you free booze as long as you lose, all the while making detours to the nearby Indian reservation where they sell smokes by the ton.

-- from "On the Limits of Self-Improvement", Part II for Vanity Fair