For the record, I love Halloween and fully appreciate the creation of Special Dark Nuggets and Take 5 candy bars.  I also believe in never settling for sub-par joy food.  If you’re going to eat it, eat the stuff that makes you drool.  If you’re really in the mood to splurge, actually allow yourself to enjoy it.  Before, during and after.

The main reason why I’m not focusing on the candy treats of Halloween is because The Joy Diet definition is so much broader.  A treat, in this context, is anything that makes you spontaneously smile.  It doesn’t have to cost money, take much time or expand your waist line.

Here’s the idea:  Every day, give yourself at least three really good smile inducing treats.  One in the morning, one in the afternoon and one after every risk you take.  No excuses.  Especially if your first reaction is “How self indulgent is that?!”  If you feel guilty at the thought of treat abundance, you can smile in private.  It’s so much more fun, though, to share the smile with others.

In the pursuit of permanent weight loss, treats are a must.

But wait… don’t you generally “cut out” treats when you try to lose weight?
Yet, reducing your treat intake is NOT part of the Joy Diet.  What to do?

Increase your number of non-edible treats each day in direct proportion to the number of ”not-hungry-but-still-eating-for-some-reason” snacks you take out.

Since emotional eating is often disguised as a well deserved reward, advance preparation of a list of emotional calming treats is a must.  When you think “I deserve a tasty treat,” go to this list.  Often.

For example, I have found that listening to classical piano music works better than ice cream to calm my nerves.  (Despite my initial defiance that this couldn’t possibly be true.)

If you need some idea sparkers, here are some treats I’ve consumed this past week by using The Joy Diet’s “Catalog of Sensory Delights” outline.

I love the sight of:

• our camellias blooming in November.
• pictures of my kids with that “I love you mom” smile.
• my to do list written in silver Sharpie on bright red paper.
• our puppy running home at full speed, ears flying, for a treat.
• the sunrise over the mountains out our back window.

I love the feel of:

• a cool breeze.
• my son playing with my fingers as he falls asleep.
• “doing nothing” in the morning and feeling my brain relax.
• my muscles relax after doing yoga. (For the first time!)
• a bear hug from my husband.

I love the smell of:

• good coffee.
• a rose.
• firewood burning in the fire place.
• fresh baked pecan pie.
• fresh cut Fraser fir trees.

I love the sound of:

• classical piano music.
• my kids laughing.
• the whole family laughing at America’s Funniest Home Videos.
• firewood crackling in the fire place.
• toe tapping music.

I love the taste of:

• that fresh baked pecan pie.
• in season berries.
• a double tall soy latte.
• homemade, salted, hot sweet potato fries.
• my mom’s cheese grits.

Yes.  Include taste.  But sidetrack this piece of the list when the treat isn’t a treat, but a dodging device for a heavy emotion.

I also added
I love the thought of:

• pointing my snow skis over the edge and letting gravity take hold.
• how I’ve reinvented my life this past year.
• my new like-minded friends.
• the connections & reconnections with old friends.
• knowing that everything I decide to do from this moment on is my choice.

Note… what’s fun for me might not be fun for you.

Make up your own list.  What brings a smile to your face?

Lather in smiles.  Rinse.  Repeat.

Losing weight doesn’t have to include deprivation from all things delicious. 

As a matter of fact, I encourage you to joyfully indulge.  Not all the time.  Then it wouldn’t be special.  More like 10% of the time.  That’s not to say that the other 90% of the food you eat can’t be wonderful.  There’s nothing better than fresh berries or a grilled chicken kabob.  Joyful indulgence is different in that no nutritional value is required.

Let’s clarify.  When I say indulgence, I mean love every bite, close your eyes in ecstasy, make-moaning-sounds-because-your-taste-buds-are-on-sensory-overload-joy-in-your-mouth indulgence.

I actually googled “indulge” to see if I could find a more delicious word to explain and found a favorite:   Rollick.  To rollick is “to move or act in a carefree, frolicsome and joyous manner; to behave in free, hearty and jovial way.”

Joyful indulgence really has no rules other than:

1.       Don’t do it if it isn’t wonderfully delightful to your senses.  Indulgent in the planning process.  Delicious in your mouth.  Totally allowed in your mind.  There is no secret stash or sneak eating in private.  There is no sin involved and no beating yourself up afterwards.  Pure joy before, during and after.  Over the top absurd degrees of rollicking.

2.       Stop eating when it stops bringing you joy.   Think about that favorite ice cream.  When does your tongue become so cold that you don’t really taste all the yumminess anymore?  If that’s five bites into the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy… then stop right there.  Think about it.  If you can’t taste it, is it really joyful?  Clever name for the ice cream, but it really isn’t a good therapy solution.

3.       Stop at 10%.  One moderate serving per day of whatever delights you… or a joy meal every so often.  Enjoy festive holiday meals… but maybe not a whole week of hog wild abandon.  Too much of a good thing is actually too much. 

This is all about your choice of delicious.  Your definition of yummy rules.  Don’t settle for the Crisco icing grocery bought sheet cake unless that’s your picture of over-the-top goodness.  Don’t settle for pleasing Aunt Gertrude if mincemeat pie isn’t really your thing.

Since I get to choose my 10%…  I don’t settle. 

One of my favorite things is pecan pie.  My grandmother used to make it from the pecans that were picked up & shelled from her yard.  (At least that’s how I remember it… possibly they weren’t all from her trees.)   If I’m going to eat it… it’s going to be homemade with local pecans and sweetened with those southern Alabama memories.   What this means is that I’ll only eat mom’s pecan pie now because she uses Grandmamma Mac’s recipe.

Because it really isn’t just about the pie. 

It’s about the memories of hulling pecans, shelling peas, jumping on hay bales and smelling the rose garden.  It’s about family and things that are special.  Just writing about it is as delicious as eating it right now.  It’s about the joy that my definition of pecan pie brings.   Any other pecan pie simply isn’t worth the calories.

But can food really bring joy?  Sometimes yes.  Sometimes it just pretends to for a few minutes. 

Tell yourself the truth about which is which.   Then indulge in edible joy when it’s totally worth it and it doesn’t feel like settling.

When do you indulge?  And when is it simply not worth it to settle?

PS – Hey, Mom?  This didn’t start out to be a ‘hint, hint’ type post… but can we make some pecan pies over Thanksgiving weekend this year?