On Tuesday, June 27th, 2011, I picked up Michael Griffin’s food journal on the T, and placed it in my purse. It was 7a.m. at the Boston College stop, and I was alone on the car. The black bound notebook sat untouched on a seat, and I thought briefly about handing it in to the conductor, but decided that I would have to be the one to return this artifact to its rightful owner.
Later, I flipped through to look for contact information, and found that Mr. Griffin of Poughkeepsie, NY had been cataloguing his food intake for about one week. Carefully counting the calories of every iced latte and slice of pizza, he tracked his nutrition using the same ease and precision with which I follow Channing Tatum’s love life.
As so often happens (not just to the hypothetically occupied green-line conductors that I had envisioned), life got away from me, and so did M. Griffin’s meticulous notebook. It sat in my purse for a week, then a month, then a year. Now, my friends tell me it would be weird to mail it home to Poughkeepsie, in the same way it would be weird to finally call a year after the first date. Either way, I owe MG a big thank you, because he has turned me on to the importance of paying heed to what I eat.
The New York Times Education Blog features a great article that encourages young people to avoid Atkins-era diets (as well as Atkins-era shoulder pads) and consciously consider everything consumed. Food journals are celebrated (thank you Michael Griffin) and common sense is required.
MG’s food journal is finally being put to good use by yours truly, and knowing that I will have to jot down every cookie and crab rangoon is helping me wise up about eating economically.