It’s a hot topic right now: a push toward a greener earth, a rapprochement with international green thumb agencies, a call to redefine and rediscover our energy methods. I get it.
I find it silly, though, that in the wake of this wave, we are getting less and less fit. We find ourselves caring about the dumps in which we throw our fast-food wrappers more than the corporal wrapper we’ve worn since birth.
The average American consumes fast food over 150 times a year, which is about 3 times a week.[1] I don’t know about you, but the last time I went to a drive-thru I did not order a salad. If I did, I ordered some nuggets atop the salad, in a sweet, faux French accent to legitimize my pitiful gluttony. I was under the impression that as long as nuggets are contiguous—or touching—greens then they are transformed into healthy morsels, and the calories average out between the two foods.
No? This is news to me.
Versus this statistic, we visit the other end of the stem: How do I compare to the average intake of vegetables? Well, if you eat more than 1.5 cups of vegetables a day, you are in the upper-half echelon of Americans, at least according to your intake of greens.[2] You are the cream of the crop (like, some of the crop).
Now, if you are there, Is that a manageable intake? Could it be easier, or more difficult?
It’s not cake. (The cake is a lie.)
I reckon it depends on several factors: your work, your social structure, your habits and upbringing, and your supplemental help. I’ll get to that in a second.
Take, for example, a young buck (a smaller human), and look at his/her dietary habits. Eh, I’ll just recall my habits from “a few” years ago:
Breakfast: Some type of cereal, either one with or… with sugar. Top that off with some fruit (that has natural sugar, like grapes, strawberries, cantaloupe, etc).
Brunch: Poptart. Sometimes I’d deviate, but I would almost always choose the Strawberry one, because it was adorned with a galaxy of sprinkles that put me in Candyland with each bite.
Lunch: Chicken or a sandwich, or a chicken sandwich; or chicken and a sandwich.
You may have been more disciplined, with a guardian sneaking green mutant trees (broccoli) into your lunch; or you just preferred to eat leaves (salad) like the rabbits that run too fast for you to pet them.
But you get the gist. Unless you have the genes of a leek or the restraint of an acolyte, you’re gonna have a hard time getting all the vegetables you need. Here is probably the greatest of factors that will either help or inhibit your input of greens.
Work, lurk.
Unfortunately, the bulk of your eating habits–your potential to be green–revolves around what you do during the week. And if you’re like the most of us, you frequent something of a 9-5.
Most workers are in two categories: solid or fluid, as I call ’em.
If you have a solid work schedule, you are likely stationed in the same spot and are given the option to buy food around your work vicinity on lunch break (and doing so you may befriend the vending machine), or bring your own food from home (a sack lunch/Power Rangers lunch pail). For the first scenario, I’ll just tell you: I’ve seen only one salad vending machine in my life.
You may get up, squeeze that tight 30-60 minute time frame, get in your car, drive a mile and hustle to the nearest grocery store for a pre-packaged meal; or you may with ground-gazing eyes leer at the McDonald’s at the corner of the street (it’s only, like, 50 steps away).
A candid picture of Monday.You’re going to have a bad time.
But here you can also pack your lunch, provided you have the right foods at home (that were bought from the store when you weren’t hungry). I’d always recommend either shopping with an Allura Trim on you or packing one in your lunch. Work days are long (about half as long as Monday work days).
Then there’s the the fluid work schedule: the one in flux. Like molecules in the fluid state that fill and conform to their container, so a worker with a fluid schedule fits her lunch to her time frame. This avails her hardly any time to tactfully buy and consume food.
What’s near me? Oh, seventeen fast food chains? Nice. I’ll eat water (maybe choose a safer way…).
The verdict.
Incorporating greens in your diet is difficult. It’s going to take time and discipline–and failure and discipline, and then some failure–and then SUCCESS (with drops of failure, of course).
But we know you can do it.
What’s beautiful is that greens act as a natural detoxifier. They may not be so “gentle,” but they will assist in your daily bowel movements and bodily health.
And when you hike up the green intake, your body will react at first a bit strangely: “Why are you feeding me rabbit food?” Just kidding. It will put your weight loss and your overall bodily health in hyper mode!
So what are your green goals?[1] https://fastfoodnutrition.org/news/fast-food-eat-year-1357710862
[2] https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/mm6426a1.htm
I find it silly, though, that in the wake of this wave, we are getting less and less fit. We find ourselves caring about the dumps in which we throw our fast-food wrappers more than the corporal wrapper we’ve worn since birth.
The average American consumes fast food over 150 times a year, which is about 3 times a week.[1] I don’t know about you, but the last time I went to a drive-thru I did not order a salad. If I did, I ordered some nuggets atop the salad, in a sweet, faux French accent to legitimize my pitiful gluttony. I was under the impression that as long as nuggets are contiguous—or touching—greens then they are transformed into healthy morsels, and the calories average out between the two foods.
No? This is news to me.
Versus this statistic, we visit the other end of the stem: How do I compare to the average intake of vegetables? Well, if you eat more than 1.5 cups of vegetables a day, you are in the upper-half echelon of Americans, at least according to your intake of greens.[2] You are the cream of the crop (like, some of the crop).
Now, if you are there, Is that a manageable intake? Could it be easier, or more difficult?
