TEN YEARS LIGHTER

Hokitika Guardian, 15 April 1918, Page 1

TEN YEARS LIGHTER

HEALTH IN LESS FOOD

(By F. A. McKenzie.)

An old friend whom 1 had not met for some time ran up against me in the street this morning. “What have you done with yourself?” he asl*:ed. ‘‘You look ten s*ears younger.” “I am ten years lighter,” I replied. I had just been examining my weight chart at the Turkish bath where I go. I found that m eightteen months I have lost well over a stone. And I certainly feel better for the loss.

My experience is a common one among men in the forties. “ Nine out of ten of the gentlemen who come here have lost weight during the past two years,” the 'bath attendant told me. ‘‘They are all Verv proud of it.” Middle-aged vanity!

Why this loss? > Undoubtedly because of the reduction in our consumption of food and drink. In mv own case the process was helped by a touch of trench fever acquired at Vimy in the winter of 1916-17 and bv a mild dose ot poison-gas in the summer. But most of us in the forties ate too much and drank too much in the old days.

Three years ago I would have a couple ol eggs and a j rasher ot bacon or one egg and two rashers of bacon for breakfast, I had toast and butter —plenty of butter. NowI have one egg or a slice of*bacon. As a rule my toast is dry. Two years ago my habitual drink at luncheon or dinner was whisky. I rarelv drank between meals. But - my one mild whisky-and-soda had a wav of running into two glasses, and I put a little more in the g’ass than years before. Whisky made a pleasant, neutral drink. To-day I do not have one glast of whisky a week, because my common sense tells me whisky is not \vo"th 15s a bottle, or half 15s. The whisk v habit has just fallen off me. And while t have made no good resolutions I am honestly coming to the conclusion that these mud g’asses of whisky did not add to mv mental alertness or business ,e Hiciencv. i * * * * * I ate the average man’s luncheon, a fish or meat dish, and sweet or cheese —usual!}’ cheese. I have much the same now. But my meat portion was then at least 50 per cent bigger than now. I had butter with my bread ; now I have none. Mv j cheese was usually one of the soft French kinds, which tempt one to eat them. Now I have Cheddar, and about a quarter of the quantity satisfies me.

I never was an afternoon-lea man, and am not now. But I used to dine out a great deal and have friends at home. Every dinner away from home or with friends at home tends to be twice as elabornte i as the cjuiet home dinner .There are more dishes, and in the old clays there were many rich sauces. Now it is an elementary truth that if jou have more dishes you eat moie.

To-day I dine out very • seldom When I do the dinner is about one. third of its old proportions. At home our evening table is simplicity itself. The cook who tempted our appetites with dainty dishes has fled to a region free from airraids. One portion- often cold— and cheese or an apple satisfies us. And the drink is water or one of the lighter French wines. lam better for this simpler diet. I have more energy. I had be<nm to slow down. Once I was a big walker, and twenty years ago my pace earned me the name of “ the young man always in a hurry. Three years ago I had acquired a more leisurely air. Yesterday I found myself swing down the street at the same old pace. I am doing more work than ever, and doing it more easily. Old dreams and plans are reviving. 1 owe Fritz gratitude for forcing me away from my old luxuries.

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