St. Petersburg Times Online: Business

Weather | Sports | Forums | Comics | Classifieds | Calendar | Movies

72 hours at the trough

MELANIE HUBBARD, SHERRY ROBINSON and JUSTIN GEORGE
Published February 5, 2005

Uncle Sam has spelled out what you need to eat right: 7 to 8 daily servings of grains; 4 to 5 daily servings of vegetables; 4 to 5 daily servings fruits; 2 to 3 daily servings of low-fat/fat-free dairy; 2 or fewer daily servings of meat, poultry or fish; 4 to 5 daily servings of nuts, seeds, legumes; 2 to 3 servings a week of fats, oils; 5 servings a week of sweets. Feeling full yet? We asked three writers keep track of everything they eat to see how they measure up.

MELANIE HUBBARD, married mother of one, Ruskin

FRIDAY

Breakfast: 1 cup coffee with milk and two sugars. Bays English muffin with 1/2 teaspoon butter, 1 teaspoon marmalade. 3/4 cup fruit of fresh pineapple and watermelon.

Lunch: 1 cup fruit of pineapple, watermelon and grapes. 1 slice rosemary sourdough bread, 4-ounce ham slices, 1/4 cup corn, Tootsie Pop.

Tea Time: 1 cup tea with milk and two heaping sugars, one almond biscotti, two Afrika chocolate wafer cookies and three prunes.

Dinner: 1 cup milk, 5-ounce pork chop with apples in creamy mustard sauce, 1/2 cup steamed brussels sprouts, 3/4 cup lentils, one white Russian cocktail, two chocolate chips from daughter Kylie's ice cream and two bites from Kylie's apple.

SATURDAY

Breakfast: Same, and 1 cup fruit of strawberries and pineapple.

Lunch: Pizza, 11/2 slices thin crust with ham, cheese, onions, olives and green peppers.

Tea Time: Tea, three prunes, one Afrika wafer, 1/3 cup Umeya rice-cracker snacks.

Dinner: Half baked potato with 1 tablespoon butter and sea salt, 11/2 slices roast pork with creamy horseradish sauce, 1 cup fried eggplant, 11/2 cups milk. (Kylie carefully picks out, sucks clean and arranges chocolate bits on her plate for later delectation after all offending ice cream has been consumed.)

SUNDAY

Breakfast: Same. Fruit: 1/2 grapefruit, 1/4 cup pineapple chunks.

Lunch: Three baby carrots with Marie's Garlic Italian Dressing, 3/4 cup egg salad on rosemary sourdough bread with alfalfa sprouts, 11/2 cups milk. Half of a pizza crust with Kylie's rejected green peppers.

Tea time: Two Afrika cookies, three prunes, 1/3 slice Christmas fruitcake (the candied fruit kind, but Kylie steals half.) Mac eats pork out of the fridge. Kylie and I split a Bit O' Honey I've been hoarding.

Dinner: 1 slice roast pork with horseradish sauce, 3/4 cup new potatoes (boiled, then fried), 1/3 cup roasted brussels sprouts, 1 white Russian, 1/2 cup Kylie's milk.

I'm a fruit bat. I'm a sugar bee. And I go ape for fat. I eat like a French woman, I guess. Does it taste good? Is it roasted or fried? Does it contain dark chocolate? Is it sweet or savory? Fork it over.

I eat small portions, I suppose, for I am a small person - not even 5 feet tall andjust more than 100 pounds. Last year I went on the no-ice-cream diet, and that, combined with the long halls and killer stairs on the way to my office, is my fitness program. If you compare my habits with the new guidelines, it's clear that I eat based on the old ones; get your meat, your starch, your veggies and fruits, drink your milk. I grew up eating the four major food groups and tend to self-regulate: If I'm not getting my veggies, I want my veggies. Even though I love nuts and beans, I fear they're fattening (cue bloated early attempt at vegetarianism) and tend to skip 'em.

My sweets are regulated; I allow them at tea time. Tea time is expressly for that late-afternoon after-work feeling: "I am so dead I need to read a magazine, eat dark chocolate, and swill caffeine." I don't bother denying myself; it's such a pleasure to indulge. Then I go pick up the kid.

The kid dominates our food choices. Saturday, after a busy morning, we all want to eat out. Husband Mac and I want to try the new fish place. Kylie, 5, vociferously objects. It has to be the chicken place. After a series of painful refusals, we give in. We find the chicken place closed til March. Confused wailing all around. Pizza. Sigh.

I do the mom thing and finish Kylie's leftovers, whatever they may be. I sneak a bite of ice cream - the quart slain in half by Daddy, the midnight marauder - as I spoon out hers.

Melanie Hubbard teaches writing at the University of Tampa.

The well ... o.k.
  photo
Sherry Robinson

Sherry Robinson, married mother of two, St. Petersburg

FRIDAY

Breakfast: Small banana, water

Lunch: Chick-Fil-A Char-grilled Chicken Sandwich on wheat bun with lettuce and tomato, iced tea.

Dinner: Hors d'oeuvres were two small chicken quesadillas and one seafood-stuffed mushroom cap. A salad of greens with honey-roasted walnuts and strawberries (there was dressing but don't know what kind). Main course was chicken and tilapia, with red-jacket mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus and carrots. Dessert was five-layer wedding cake and cherries jubilee. Water and a decaf coffee with cream.

SATURDAY

Breakfast: Half an English muffin with mixed-fruit jelly.

Lunch: One small chicken leg, one pork rib, a Ball Park light hot dog in baked beans, potato salad and leftover wedding cake, Kool-Aid.

Dinner: Turkey sandwich on honey wheat bread with honey mustard. Water.

SUNDAY

Breakfast: None.

Snack: Small rice cakes and a Coke. (I needed the sugar and caffeine.)

Lunch: Ham sandwich (1 slice) on asiago cheese bread with fruit salad. Tortilla chips with cheese dip. Small slice of birthday cake. Water.

Dinner: Ham and tomato with honey mustard on honey wheat bread with grapes, a pickle and water.

I've covered some interesting stories during my 22 years in journalism. I have flown with stunt parachutists in a vintage aircraft. I've been hooked to a wire to fly like Peter Pan. Yet nothing has been more terrifying than this assignment.

What scared me most was that this was a BIG weekend. Not only was a party planned for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary on Friday, but my 6-year-old son was participating in the Boy Scouts Pinewood Derby on Saturday, and there would be food there. Oh, and my parents wanted to barbecue for us "kids" that day. Sunday? A birthday party for a 3-year-old - and his cake - was staring me in the face.

Could I possibly find a way to stay within the government's new dietary guidelines and keep my sanity around all this food?

Sort of.

My parents, Clyde and Cherry Robinson Sr. of Sarasota, have been married for 50 years and I was going to enjoy myself at the renewal of their wedding vows and celebrations afterward. Who can say no to dinner with all the trimmings at Michael's on East restaurant in Sarasota? Who could turn their back on a family barbecue the next day, prepared by the best chicken-and-rib man on the planet (my dad)?

So I did penance at the Pinewood Derby and ate nothing. As usual, I chose church over breakfast on Sunday. And I ate only a small slice of birthday cake at the party. I finished my weekend with grapes and a pickle.

One thing this story taught me is that what you eat may not be what you really need to eat. To me, the dietary guidelines are there to ensure that I don't eat too much, and that I try to eat the right things such as fruit and vegetables. But sometimes, the best-laid plans fly out the window when we are faced with big weekends or busy lives.

Most of the time, we don't think about the choices we make for our meals. Knowing that I had to write it all down at least made me think before I ate. Maybe we should all do that - and exercise. But that's another story.

Sherry Robinson is lifestyles editor for the Times. She can be reached at 727 893-8305 or at robinson@sptimes.com

The ugly
  photo
Justin George

JUSTIN GEORGE, 27, single, Inverness

FRIDAY

10:20 a.m. - 24-ounce Shell gas station House Blend coffee with about 2 ounces of French vanilla cream.

11 a.m. - Wrigley's Extra Sugarfree Polar Ice Gum.

12:43 p.m. - 12-ounce can of Pepsi One.

1:30 p.m. - 6-inch roast beef on white sub with provolone cheese, jalapenos, tomatoes, mayonnaise and shredded lettuce. A 3.25-ounce bag of Lance Thunder Chargin Cheddar and Sour Cream Rumble Potato Chips.

4 p.m. - 12-ounce can of Diet Coke.

9 p.m. to 10:45 p.m. - Two tall whiskey-and-Diet Coke cocktails and a stick of gum.

11:45 p.m. - A 20-ounce glass of sweet tea and the Waffle House All-Star Special: two scrambled eggs, two pieces of buttered toast, two sausage patties, large waffle with 2 tablespoons of butter and 4 tablespoons of maple syrup and hash browns smothered in ketchup.

1 a.m. - A 16-ounce bottle of water. A 12-ounce Coors Light.

SATURDAY

1 p.m. - A 16-ounce bottle of water.

3 p.m. - Two handfuls of salted peanuts and a piece of Wrigley's Doublemint gum.

3:24 p.m. - A grilled chicken breast sandwich with two slices of Nature's Own Healthline Light wheat bread, 1/4 cup sharp cheddar cheese, 1 tablespoon of barbecue sauce and 1 tablespoon ranch dressing. One cup of steamed yellow squash. Two 16-ounce bottles of water.

5:40 p.m. - A 20-ounce cup of gas station coffee with chocolate cream.

12 a.m. - Four small chicken egg rolls with peanut sauce. A 12-ounce Coors Light and a 16-ounce bottle of water.

SUNDAY

9 a.m. - One 16-ounce bottle of water.

10 a.m. - One deli bagel with vegetable cream cheese and a stick of gum.

2 p.m. - Two pieces of Domino's pepperoni pizza, one piece of mushroom and green-pepper pizza and a cupcake with rainbow frosting. Two cups of Diet Pepsi.

5:30 p.m. - One 16-ounce bottle of water and a stick of gum.

7:20 p.m. - Two pressed grilled-chicken sandwiches with cheddar cheese and red onion and 1 cup of sauteed squash. Two bottles of water.

I am the 27-year-old bachelor. You know, the one vacillating between health-conscious adult and child constantly looking for a bag of Cheetos.

On my three-day food diary assignment, I found there is truth in You Are What You Eat. Or at least, what you eat says a bit about who you are. My food choices alternated between sinful pleasure and guilt, remorse and redress, kind of like my life seen through the past weekend when I teetered into a bar Friday and walked out of church Sunday standing straight.

During all this, did I ever think about stuffing the new U.S. dietary guidelines into my mouth, instead of, say, egg rolls at midnight on Saturday?

No.

No. 1: I don't have time (admittedly a lie).

No. 2: I'd rather listen to Dr. Phil, Dr. Atkins or that Subway sandwich shill Jared for advice. For years, didn't Uncle Sam's food pyramid tell us to eat a loaf of bread daily? And now the guv'ment wants me to eat 4.5 cups of fruits and vegetables and exercise about 90 minutes daily because my Body Mass Index is circling the drain?

Sure . . . once the Labor Department cuts back the 40-hour work week.

So I make the best choices I can. When you log it all on paper, however, it sure looks like the worst. Friday, for instance, I didn't need the sweet tea to drown the "All-Star Special," which included a plate-sized waffle afloat in maple syrup.

But before you judge me for the coffee cream that calorically seems like soft serve or the veggie cream cheese lacking anything green, know this: I sweated an hour on a treadmill Saturday and hiked 50 minutes Sunday.

That's just 160 minutes short of what's recommended. I'll live.

Maybe.

Justin George is a Times staff writer in Citrus County. He can be reached at 352 860-7309 or jgeorge@sptimes.com

© Copyright, St. Petersburg Times. All rights reserved.