Donut of shame

Did you see this the other day?

Twinkies. Nutty bars. Powdered donuts.

For 10 weeks, Mark Haub, a professor of human nutrition at Kansas State University, ate one of these sugary cakelets every three hours, instead of meals. To add variety in his steady stream of Hostess and Little Debbie snacks, Haub munched on Doritos chips, sugary cereals and Oreos, too.

His premise: That in weight loss, pure calorie counting is what matters most -- not the nutritional value of the food.

The premise held up: On his "convenience store diet," he shed 27 pounds in two months.

For a class project, Haub limited himself to less than 1,800 calories a day. A man of Haub's pre-dieting size usually consumes about 2,600 calories daily. So he followed a basic principle of weight loss: He consumed significantly fewer calories than he burned.

His body mass index went from 28.8, considered overweight, to 24.9, which is normal. He now weighs 174 pounds.

Oh, the ramifications.

Since sometimes in my 20s, I've battled a weight problem. I go up. I go down. I get, uh, bigger. I get smaller. On and on and on. And when I enter those convenience stories, there they are. My nemesis. Powdered donuts. Oh, the beauty of them all. Those little round holey bits of pleasure.

And now...they're diet food. Whoadthunk it?

Finding something in the Bible about powdered donuts is difficult, I'll admit, but I'm not weak. I discovered the 39th Psalm which says, "I will guard my ways that I may not sin with my tongue; I will keep a muzzle on my mouth as long as the wicked are in my presence."

That's the way my wife Mary and I have lived for most of this year. We measure carbs with every meal. Good ol' white bread, the fount of my every blessing, has gone the way of John Wayne. Pizza, my favorite food? Have the find the right carb count and it must tasted like cardboard with a bit of tomatoe sauce on it. And on and on.

Then comes this report, from a NUTRITIONIST mind you. Not some quack. Not some bimbo. From a guy, you know, a scientist, a mind, a guy who knows. Who lost 27 POUNDS.

Dare I sneak out of the house some evening and go to Clyde's up the street and walk in, where the cameras can't see me, and grab 10 bags of those little wicked tiny but sweet powered donuts? Dare I?

While pondering, I happened to look down further into that Psalm and I read, "Lord, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is."

Seems about right. One donut in, one day gone. Don't know that's worth it. So I'll stay away.

It's not pounds that is my problem. It's doing the next wrong thing. "While I mused," David wrote, "the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue."