Calories and Campfires

Our metabolism is like a campfire. When we eat food and drink, it’s sent to the liver to be metabolized and burned away like wood to produce heat (calories). If we hork down too much, like three out of every four people in America, we’re tossing a large amount of wood on a fire that won’t get burned. This extra wood is then stacked up in our body as glycogen and fat, and saved for later.

Glycogen is extra carb storage in our liver and muscles. It’s readily accessible and our body’s first choice for fuel when food isn’t around. But glycogen storage is limited. When it runs out, we convert extra calories into fat, which is stored virtually everywhere in the body–around our organs, in our bloodstream, or packed into our guts, asses, and hips.

When we have an abundant storage of “wood,” things can get out of control. Since our bloodstream is like an interstate system, when it gets too crowded, it doesn’t work efficiently. Too much fat on our freeway can cause traffic jams, car accidents, and jack-knifed 18-wheelers, inhibiting the performance of our daily physiological needs. Over a period of time, this leads to obesity and resulting diseases–like type 2 diabetes, fatty liver, heart disease, and cancer. 

So what are the sources of calories? 

Carbohydrates, protein, alcohol, and fat can be burned down to produce energy. Carbs and protein give off the least heat, at 4 calories per gram. Alcohol (my favorite) comes in second place at 7 calories per gram. And fat provides the most heat at 9 calories per gram.

Sticking with the campfire example (pun intended), carbs are like kindling. They burn quickly and are a necessity for getting things started and building a fire. They are great breakfast foods. 

Protein is like a bundle of wood you buy at the grocery store that costs about $10. It is good for building your fire and providing a framework. Protein takes longer to burn.

Fat is like that big fat tree stump you put on the fire. It takes forever to start burning, but when it does, it provides fuel for a long time. 

Alcohol is like lighter fluid. You might use it if you suck at building a fire from scratch. At first it produces a bright, amazing flame and you think: This fire is awesome. Who needs wood when you got lighter fluid, brah? But the fire, and fun, doesn’t last. The flames usually die off in about 10 seconds and you’re back where you started from. 

Drinking alcohol has the same effect. The moment you take a shot, pound a beer, or drink a fancy glass of rosé, the alcohol gets absorbed into your bloodstream and the flame ignites, releasing fun, drunken energy. But the flame burns away, and you soon feel like a burnt out stick. 

How much fuel do you need?

Well, it depends. The size of your body, and how much you use it, determines how much wood to toss on your campfire. The smaller you are, or the more inactive you are, the less wood you need. If you’re tall and active, you’ll need more.

Most people follow the 2,000 calorie-a-day standard, but this is an average amount. A small, sedentary female will get fat eating 2,000 daily calories because her campfire is small. But a gigantic, active manbeast will lose weight because his bonfire is ginormous.

Bottom line:

Your metabolism is like a campfire. Know how much wood you need to toss on it or you’ll get fat. To find out, google “calorie calculator,” choose one of the millions of calculators, and plug in your information. This knowledge will help ensure your campfire burns bright and incinerates anything you toss into it.

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Parquet Floors to the Past

I wake up, surprised to find myself on the floor at the entrance of my grandma’s house. Excited to be home, though, I dust myself off and follow the parquet floors up the three steps to the kitchen.

“Mom?”

She isn’t sitting in her chair by the window, coloring with her favorite set of colored pencils, or doing word searches while listening to the Beatles. The chair is empty. The room is quiet.

“Grandma?”

I follow the floor back down to the landing, my body feels unusually worn. The walls, which are normally yellow and bright, now look faded by time, tar, and nicotine. “Mom, are you down the basement?” I run down to see her, thinking she’s probably doing laundry or hanging up sweaters on the clothesline. But she isn’t there. The clothesline is barren.

I walk towards the finished side and see there’s only one board game resting on our game shelf. Where are all the other games? Where’s Huggermugger? Where’s Rubik’s Race? I grab Life and look at its cover–an image of a mom, dad, and two kids playing, smiling. It’s a cheesy picture, my sister and I always joke about it. But the picture of the family is covered with too much dust, their faces and clothes drained of too much color.

I turn on the light to the liveable side of the basement. Finished with the frayed, mint-green carpet from our living room and wooden paneling that my brother nailed to the cement walls. I expect to see a centipede scamper across the wall looking for a dark, damp shelter. But he’s not there to greet me. Where is everything? There’s no gold chair, bed, or bookshelf. There’s nothing stashed in my brother’s handmade closet, or piled up in the corner next to the broken fireplace, or even hidden under my mom’s train table. The only thing that remains is my brother’s red guitar, the same one that still echoes songs like Fly By Night and Over the Hills and Far Away.

I exit the finished side. For some reason, my bones, my body ache like the yellow walls. I pass my grandma’s silver table that looks like something straight out of Johnny Rockets. Sitting on top is a VHS storage drawer with tapes of Funny Farm, Ishtar, Fletch Lives, and a 1987 Browns-Broncos game. I recorded them straight from the TV, pausing during the commercials. But there are no old boxes stacked on the table; there are no old totes stored underneath.

Did Mom finally do some Spring cleaning?

I glance over at our utility sink, where I wash my hair, and where my friends piss during my parties. Off in the corner is our laundry chute–where clothes disappear dirty and reappear clean in my closet and dresser. Like magic. But there are no dirty clothes underneath. The hamper is gone.

My thoughts begin to race. I know something isn’t right.

On the opposite side of the basement, next to the furnace, is our giant 1950’s freezer. Large enough to fit four people inside. Like everything back then, it was made by steel workers and built to last forever. I open the door, but there’s nothing inside but stale-smelling ice crystals. I glance over at our pantry shelf, which now only holds a can of French cut green beans and a can of disgusting cream of mushroom soup. Normally, the shelves are filled with boxes of cereal and pasta, cans of Maxwell House and Busch beer, and rolls of paper towels and toilet paper.

I open the thin, wooden door to our closet under the stairs, hoping to see our Christmas tree and holiday decorations, praying to see the clutter of glassware, antique bowls, coffee mugs, and my grandma’s plastic exercise bike–the same bike we used for hyperspace travel in our homemade movies. But the closet under the stairs is empty. The shelves are vacant, the floor barren!

“Mom!” I try to run up the stairs, but my legs don’t move quickly enough and I stumble and fall, hurting my knee. I walk through the kitchen towards the dining room, grimacing in pain.

“Mom? Grandma? Are you home?”

My grandma isn’t in her recliner watching Matlock or Murder She Wrote. Her chair and TV are gone–even the blue clock hanging on the wall has vanished.

I run into the bathroom and splash water on my face. I look in the mirror, frightened to see a man staring back at me. His hair is thin, gray. He’s an old man with a dying face, covered with wrinkled skin that droops from his neck and chin like a chicken’s.

“Dear God!” I cry. “Mom, are you home? Please tell me you’re home!”

Keeping Your Foundation Strong. A Message from Vitamin D.

Dear humans,

Hello, my name is Deon. You may know me by my Earth name: Vitamin D. With winter upon us, I thought it necessary to provide you with critical information.

First, I ask that you keep this message confidential. The Academy of Nutrients, Vitamins And Minerals (ANVAM) has made me swear to not reveal my true identity—that I’m one of many sentient nano beings employed to work inside the human body to ensure it functions properly.

I work closely with my friends, Cali and Phred (you know them as Calcium and Phosphorus) to keep your bones and teeth healthy. I also do some work on the side to keep your immune system and genes healthy, but for the sake of this discussion, my primary job is in the Bones and Teeth Division. 

I don’t live inside your body, I just work there. I travel via pills, food, or on a beam of ultraviolet light. I prefer light travel—it’s fast, efficient, and I enter through your skin in a greater capacity. Food is a much slower vehicle, and humans rarely ingest me because I’m found in disgusting foods like sardines and cod liver oil. However, for the past ninety years, food scientists on Earth have been fortifying me in milk and cereal, so many humans onboard me during their breakfast.

When I travel to your body I’m always in hypersleep, which means I’m dormant upon arrival. I must be transported to the liver or kidneys to be activated. There my work shift begins!

My job classification is a Regulator. Along with my supervisor, Paul Thomas Harold (aka Parathyroid Hormone), we make sure Cali and Phred are in the right place and in correct balance so your bones and teeth work at optimal efficiency. I’m the only member of ANVAM that possesses the magic keys that will unlock the doors to bones and small intestines, which is where Cali and Phred are absorbed and begin their work shift. I especially need to keep an eye on Cali. She’ll sometimes get lost or try to leave work before her shift is over, so I make sure she doesn’t hop aboard a pool of your urine and exit the body. Losing too much of her could lead to weak bones.

Sometimes, if you don’t eat the right foods or see enough sunlight, I’m unable to report to work. This is especially common during the winter months in Earth’s northern regions (and the reason I’m sending this message). When this happens, Cali and Phred are on their own, gathering outside your bones and small intestines waiting for my magic keys. But since I’m not there, they can’t do their job. Potentially, this could lead to an outbreak of osteomalacia or rickets—and your bone foundation might deteriorate like a house whose structure has been digested by termites. Not fun.

So this winter, make sure you eat vitamin D-fortified foods or take supplements. I put in a lot of hours taking care of you; I’d hate to see your bones slowly crumble into a pile of dust.

Happy new year!

-Deon

Deon Dihydroxy III
Regulatory Communications Officer
Bones and Teeth Division
Academy of Nutrients, Vitamins, and Minerals


Store Holiday Memories, Not Holiday Fat

The snow before January is white and crisp—take a picture and post it on Instagram.

The colors of Christmas lights radiate your neighborhood—tell a story on Snapchat.

You enjoy some holiday cheer with friends and family—tag your besties and siblings on Facebook. No, wait—you better not post that picture. Your face looks fat, and you don’t want your Facebook friends to see that you’ve packed on poundage.

The holidays are filled with magic, but that magic can often dispelled by an online sedentary lifestyle that results in weight gain. We sit on the couch. We gaze into our phones. We shop online. We get groceries delivered. We take selfies. We cook less. We gaze into our phones. We send gifs to our friends. We place mobile food orders. We post pics of our dogs, cats and food. We eat.

Did I mention we sit on the couch?

Our waistlines suffer from this introverted lifestyle, but so do our holiday moments and memories. Here are five things that will help you tip the scales and make the most out of the holiday season:

Put Down Your Phone. Interact with humans instead of interacting through a 6.1 inch diagonal screen. The offline world is filled with sights, sounds, and smells—a feast for your senses. Plus, if you go out for a day of shopping, you can burn up to 750 extra calories. To burn even more, walk the stairs instead of riding the escalators, or make extra trips to your car to drop off gifts. Use your legs, they were put there for a reason.

Do More Chores. A half hour of cleaning can burn over 100 calories, and an hour of doing laundry can burn up to 150 calories. When you get home from work or errands, a clean house and clean clothes will be waiting for you.

Eat Salads. Salads are a great way to eat more fruits and vegetables. When ordering salads, however, be aware extra calories from salad dressings—they can sometimes account for half the total calories of the salad. Ask for your dressing on the side so you can control your portions.

Get it Grilled. Sometimes the calories of a fried chicken sandwich or salad can outnumber the calories of a half-pound cheeseburger. Ask your server how your chicken is prepared; if it is fried or breaded, go grilled.

Don’t Eat Cheese. Give it a try. Cheese is on EVERYTHING. One serving of cheese or cheese sauce can be anywhere from 50-100 calories (about 20 minutes of walking). The sandwich tastes just fine without the cheese. Use salsa or mustard for dipping sauces since they are much lower in calories.

This year, embrace the offline world and avoid future diagnoses of “text neck” and smart phone-induced depression. Instead, waltz into 2020 a few pounds lighter with holiday memories posted to your brain instead of your social media account.

How to Trick the Undead this Halloween

It’s damp, cold, the last warm breath of summer whisked away with a pile of leaves. You grab your now musty jacket and sit on the porch glider, swinging and shivering, telling yourself fall is better than summer because of the beautiful leaves.

You shift your eyes away from your half-dead tree in the front yard and notice a pack of people walking down the street. At first, you think they’re children walking to the nearby middle school. But as they get closer, you notice something much more horrific than pre-pubescent teens.

This can’t be happening. You rub your eyes, and look again. The people are not children, but undead creatures—zombies, wraiths, and skeletons—floating and limping towards you. You can’t believe your eyes! Their bony fingers on outstretched arms are holding small colorful packages—oranges, browns, reds, blues, yellows—the only things bringing color to their lifeless bodies. You squint and reveal one of your darkest evils, a caloric evil you have successfully avoided all year:

Peanut butter cups!

Chocolate bars!

Candy!

The undead are on your front yard now, tempting you to binge on their treats, wanting you to inhale as many calories as possible until you feel depressed and miserable, until you feel as if you’ve gained five pounds in one day. You stand up from the porch swing, checking your hips and love handles. Determined, you shout, “NOT THIS YEAR!”

Don’t let Halloween and the annual return of the undead transform your hard-earned 4-pack stomach into love handles by the end of Christmas. Don’t put yourself through another haunting New Year’s resolution filled with promises of weight loss. Instead, use the following tricks to fight back and free yourself from the impending holiday doom.

Trick #1: Learn control

Like a famous soothsayer once said, “Control, you must learn control!” Whether you’re invading your kids’ trick-or-treat bag or eating everyone’s chocolate donations at work (because they would rather you get fat than them), the key is control. Only mental prowess and will power can save you. Only then can you conquer the undead.

Trick #2: Limit yourself

Don’t let Halloween turn into World War Z. It’s okay to treat yourself, but try to limit your candy consumption to a max of three pieces. A mini peanut butter cup is about 50 calories. A fun size chocolate bar is around 75 calories. Keeping yourself under 200 calories for a treat is okay, and it will help satisfy your cravings. If you find yourself chowing down on a sack of sweet tarts and fun-size chocolates like it’s a bag of microwave popcorn, then the candy zombies have won.

Trick #3: Balance things out

It’s all about balance when maintaining weight. You probably hate hearing that—hell, as a dietitian I hate saying it—but unfortunately it’s the truth. If you eat candy, balance it out with exercise or cut back on a snack or beer later in the day. It’s easy to burn off 200 calories—just hop on the nearest elliptical machine for a quick 15-20 minute stride, or take a walk or two around the block and admire the dead (colorful and beautiful) leaves. Or if you don’t want to exercise, and would rather be a sedentary snail, opt out of a second helping at dinner or pass on the late night soda, chips, pumpkin ale, or goblet of wine.

You have a long haul ahead of you this holiday season. It’s important to get off to a good start. There’s a big fat turkey with cheesy potatoes and pumpkin pie waiting in the wings, only to be followed by calorie-laden holiday parties filled with grandma’s Christmas cookies and ginormous feasts large enough to feed the city of Whoville instead of a family of four. Without a little discipline, it’s easy to gain 5-10 pounds in two months. Over your lifespan that adds up—and if you’re not careful—you’ll be 70-years-old and 300 pounds, and the undead crawling up your front yard won’t be holding candy, they’ll be holding heart and diabetes medication.


Fat is on Your Freeway. Understanding Good and Bad Fats

Gone are the days when we simply looked at the Total Fat value on a nutrition label and could tell if a food was healthy or unhealthy. If the fat was too high, it was bad for us; if the fat was low, it was good for us. Done!

Well, it’s not the 1990s anymore. We now know there are many different types of fat—and we need to distinguish between them. For example, a fat could be saturated or a trans fat. Or it could be an unsaturated fat, which is an umbrella term for many different types of fat, including: monounsaturated fatty acids, polyunsaturated fatty acids—and Omega-3, Omega-6, and Omega-9 fatty acids.

Omega-WHAT? Sounds like Omega Supreme, the old-school Transformer that transforms into a giant space rocket!

No, these fats are not the names of Transformers, even though some may sound like it.

Not only do we have to decipher their pronunciation, we also have to figure out which are healthy, which are bad, how much are in our food, and how much we need to eat—or not eat—everyday!

This can wrinkle one’s brain. So here is my attempt to unwrinkle it.

Evil Fat
Saturated fat and trans fat are the bad guys—the antagonists of our story. These fats are solid at room temperature and include foods like lard, shortening, tallow, stick butter, coconut oil, marbled meats, and partially hydrogenated oils.

Saturated and trans fats are bad because if you eat them, your cholesterol levels increase. This could lead to blockage in your arteries.

Imagine these villainous lipids sludging around your bloodstream like semi-trucks or “OVERSIZE LOADS” on the freeway. They move slower than the rest of the traffic, take up a crapload of space, and impede your blood’s progress as it seeks to drive downtown and deliver oxygen, nutrients, and other cargo to the heart, brain, or any other one of your body’s megalopolis of organs. Too much evil fat leads to nasty bottlenecks and traffic jams, restricting your bloodmobiles from getting to their important destinations. If they get stuck in traffic, say goodbye to downtown—power’s out—and say hello to blood clots, aneurysms, strokes, hemorrhages—AND the number one cause of death: heart disease.

Good Fats
Unsaturated fats, on the other hand, are the protagonists. The good guys. These fats are are liquid at room temperature. Common food sources include fish, seeds, nuts, nut butters, and vegetable oils. These good fats zoom down your body’s interstate, forcing semi-trucks and oversized loads to pull over at truck stops and weigh stations (where they belong). Unsaturated fats help improve our cholesterol levels and protect us from heart disease, clearing the freeway for our bloodmobiles to make it downtown.

How Much do we Need?
According to the latest dietary guidelines, we need about 40-80 grams of total fat per day (about 20-35 percent of our total daily calories). Simply put, we shouldn’t eat more than 20 grams of saturated fat per day. All other fats should be good fats.

Trans fat will be banned from the food supply by January 1, 2020 (they are no longer recognized as safe by the FDA), so you probably won’t need to watch out for these vilifying fats much longer—unless you’re eating deep-fried pigs feet at the county fair—then you might have other issues to worry about.

To find out how much unsaturated fat is in a food, look at the total fat value on the nutrition label, subtract the saturated and trans fat—and presto, not only are you the next John Nash, you’ll also know the amount of good fat.

So the next time you see a high total fat value on a nutrition label, don’t freak out. It’s not the 1990s anymore. Look closer. Most of the fat could be your body’s protagonists clearing up your freeway, enabling your bloodmobiles to cruise downtown and do their job: keeping you alive.

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A Day in the Life of Mike the Mirror

This is the first story that I ever wrote (that I can think of). I was ten-years-old and very proud I received an “A.” Below is the transcription of the scanned copy with the grammar and spelling EXACTLY how it appears in my 4th grade creation. Enjoy!

A day in the life of Mike the Mirror.

One time I was asleep, and all the sudden I woke up. John walked into the bathroom and he was going to comb his hair. He had brown hair with blue eyes. I can tell because I am a mirror.

I smell like dirty hands and I have fingerprints all over me. I have a handle on me and if you pull on it you’ll see medicine in me. I am dirty because I am used alot. I want to be alone sometimes.

I have barely any friends. Only Willy the Window, Barry the Bathtub, and Arny the Airfreshener. No one likes me because they splash water on me and then wipe me with a rough cloth.

Another reason why some people hate me is because they make funny faces at me, and they stick out there tonges they breathe on me and I have to smell the odor of there mouth. And that’s why they don’t brush there teeth and I have to look at there teeth and John has twenty cavitys.

I eat Tylenol, my favorite, I like the aftertaste. I don’t like Bayer. I don’t like daylight. I don’t like it because it reflects off me and I blind the people looking at me and they blame me for it, and the sunlight blinds me I wish I was a bathtub.

The door slammed, that means John and his parents left to go to there grandparents. I might as well talk to Willy the Window, Barry the Bathtub, and Arny the Airfreshener. We were talking about no one liking us. Arny the Airfreshener say no one likes him because his head is always pressed down. Willy the Window says everyone treats him the way they treat me.

When we were done talking John came home. Barry the Bathtub was the only one treated right, he is washed every 15 minutes. He likes water and I can’t stand it. He drinks dirty water to. HA!! HA!! HA!!

UT! OH! It’s Lanny the Lightbulb – he always makes fun us, because no one likes us and he is always turned on. We can’t wait until he burns out.

The end.

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