By Toney Atkins
It's amazing how a little ingenuity (or, in my case, some unexplored common sense) can help one deal with life's crises when we happen to get hit by a financial curve ball that somehow empties our pockets.
Now, I'm far from being the smartest person in the world and it took some help from my late Dad who, before his passing on his birthday last August, had stocked his cabinets with canned pears, corn, green peas, green beans and even turnip greens. In his refrigerator was some frozen butter (supposedly with zero cholesterol) and a few spices. In recent months, I had already devoured all the soups and chili and pretty much ate out for burgers, fish, meat loaf and vegetables.
That was all well and good until April came along and I was slammed with a temporary (I hope and pray) financial crisis which forced an immediate change in lifestyle. While my brain and stomach demanded the delights of Golden Corral or the Country Cafe, I dined on bologna sandwiches during the afternoon and evening and oatmeal for breakfast and a midnight snack.
After the bologna and oatmeal were gone, I found myself one evening, sitting in an easy chair and morbidly and figuratively bathing myself in a sea of self-pity, listening to my stomach whine for a big meal at the Golden Corral buffet. Suddenly, it was a though Dad's spirit entered the room, slapped me across the head and yelled, "Open your eyes and think, stupid!"
I remembered the massive number of cans of pears in the cabinets, but I wasn't sure what else was there. First was a can of potatoes and then some tomato sauce. A few cans back were a couple filled with gravy. Then there were canned vegetables and the other previously mentioned individual canned items. The last job anyone would ever give me would be in a kitchen, but my mind went to work. I could combine some of these things and make a soup, but knowing me, I'd have that eaten in one day.
My dining habits have baffled people for years. I have a tendency of eating all of one item on my plate before I go to the next. I decided to try something. I opened a can of corn -- the average can, not the family size, put a little butter, light salt and pepper in the bowl. Three minutes in the microwave and viola! I had my supper. After relishing it along with a cup of coffee, I found that my hunger was satisfied. Later, I indulged in a can of green beans and a can of sliced pears before bed.
It became a routine of pears upon waking, a can of the vegetable of my choice for lunch and a different choice for dinner. Naturally, to support decent health, I took a multivitamin (with cholesterol-fighting ingredients) during the day. I was certainly eating better than the poor homeless folks who walk the streets who have to depend on churches and shelters, and I hadn't had to spend a penny for the food, thanks to Dad, who always worried about whether I was eating right.
For exercise, I've boogied down nightly to at least half an hour to my stash of disco music, shaking my groove thang and ample rump to hopefully improve my sexy, masculine image.
A physician would lash me 20 times at least for suggesting such a diet, but here is a definitely positive result: In less than two weeks, I lost at least 10 pounds. If that rate continues until payday in two more weeks. I will at least double that and start getting closer to the weight at which I'll be satisfied.
What my physician would not be happy about was that I was even able to have a smoke after my midnight snack -- after I rummaged through a bag that I had brought to Georgia last June. Admittedly, I don't know how long the three broken Parliaments had been in the bag before that, and they did give that rush of aged tobacco, but what can I say? Life is good.
Needless to say, when the check finally comes in the mail, the cabinets will be restocked for the next literal or figurative storm that comes along -- and for the interim as well.
Stay healthy, and spread love and peace!
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