Small Town Hermit

The American Heritage Dictionary (3rd edition) which sits on my desk defines the word habit with the following list: 1. A pattern of behavior acquired by repetition. 2. Customary practice. 3. An addiction. 4. Characteristic appearance or manner of growth, as of a plant. 5. A distinctive costume.

Since I have been thinking about habits lately and recently came to something of a realization, I decided to look up an official definition. I have not been thinking about plant growth or distinctive costumes, so I am going to leave out those two. The first three definitions are separate, but in some cases, especially when it comes to habits we are trying to change, they are close enough to be essentially the same. The line between habit and addiction can be fine indeed.

Which brings me to my realization: when a person tries to break or change and existing habit or form a new habit, she has to think about it — to concentrate — and I think that requirement is what makes it so difficult.

Years ago someone was telling me about how she quit smoking. “You just have to not smoke,” she told me, acknowledging that it was as difficult and as easy as it sounds. Every time she would normally smoke or found herself wanting to smoke, she had to stop and make the conscious, deliberate — sometimes extremely difficult — choice to not smoke.

I may have used that approach when I decided to stop eating from fast food and large chain restaurants. The chain restaurant part might have happened after I read The American Way of Eating: Undercover at Walmart, Applebee’s, Farm Fields and the Dinner Table by Tracie McMillan. That book made it clear that the big chain restaurants might look and feel more like “real” restaurants, but are really just fast food restaurants themselves. The example which made the strongest impression was the necessity of having the tomato sauce on a Domino’s pizza taste exactly the same every time at every single Domino’s everywhere in the world. Variation was not on the menu, as it were.

But I digress. The point is that every time I thought about grabbing a quick lunch at McDonald’s or Taco Bell, I stopped and made a conscious decision to eat something else. Eventually, those options stopped even occurring to me. Occasionally — as in, once or twice a year — I succumb to the craving for a burger and fries from Five Guys, but that’s about it.

I managed to do the same thing with a mocha frappuccino grande (with whipped cream as long as it was a location which used real whipped cream) from Starbucks. Looking up the calorie content was a big help there, too. I knew it was high. I just didn’t know how high. When I finally gave in and decided to treat myself one day, it tasted terrible — synthetic.

My current goals include giving up potato chips, Cheez Its, other assorted highly processed salty crunchy snack foods, and Coca Cola. The last one is going to be the toughest. None of this caffeine free Diet Coke nonsense. Oh no. I am a full-on, hard core devotee of the fully loaded Red Can of Death in all of its caramel-colored, carbonated, caffeinated, high fructose corn syrup glory. Pour me a well-chilled can over ice in a frosty pint glass, and I am in heaven.

I didn’t mark the day on a calendar and say “This is the day I give up Coke.” I did, however, make a conscious decision to not buy more once I consumed what I had, but it felt more like a “Let’s see how it goes” approach rather than “I am never buying soda again.”

It has been probably about a week, maybe a week and a half. So far I have been able to make the decision to not buy more soda when I am at the grocery store or make a special trip to a convenience store or gas station. Do I miss it? Absolutely. So far, however, I am making the correct, conscious choice, and it feels like progress.

Next step: building good habits to replace the bad.