Shawn Stevenson - Eat Smarter: Use the Power of Food to Reboot Your Metabolism, Upgrade Your Brain, and Transform Your Life

Sleep Smarter:
21 Essential Strategies to Sleep Your Way to a Better Body,
Better Health, and Bigger Success

This book is intended to supplement, not replace, the advice of a trained health professional. If you know or suspect that you have a health problem, you should consult a health professional. The author and publisher specifically disclaim any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, that is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book.

Copyright 2020 by Shawn Stevenson

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ISBN 978-0-316-53791-9

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Printed in the United States of America

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Dedication TK

I f you look up the definition of picky eater in the dictionary, youll probably see a picture of four-year-old me there holding a fish stick. I remember many days parked in front of the television watching Cartoon Express while dipping my fish sticks into copious amounts of ketchup. To me, food was just a delivery system to get as much ketchup into my body as possible. I loved that I always got to eat my favorite foods. And I had the perfect conditions to get away with it.

My earliest memories are from living (and eating) at my grandmothers house in St. Louis, Missouri. It was a magical, happy, peace ful place. Each day my grandmother would pack up my metal lunchbox (which Im pretty sure is a class II deadly weapon now) embellished with my favorite cartoon character on the outside. The usual lunchbox trappings were a sandwich (white bread, meat, and cheese only, please), potato chips, a fruit roll-up, and a thermos full of that sweet, sweet nectar called fruit punch. I fondly remember taking my lunch to school and often saving half of it to stop and have a picnic with my little cousin, Candi, on our way home. There was a little area where we ducked behind some bushes to sit together, eat, and talk about life. Ya know, kid stuff.

At home with my grandparents, my daily meals generally consisted of some type of meat, which was usually in nugget form, French fries (which were an important part of my vegetable group), sandwiches, potato chips, canned corn, canned green beans, and the occasional fresh broccoli florets that snuck their way in. Various cereals, orange juice, eggs, and/or sausage for breakfast. Mix in several meals from fast food restaurants and that was my weekly rotation. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Many people may have eaten fast food growing up, but I was really about that life. I even had my birthday party at McDonalds and, for me, it was a dream come true. I loved that place. The food (that always tasted the same), the toys in the Happy Meals, and the play area! The only thing that creeped me out a little was the cast of sketchy characters on the McDonalds team. The clown boss himself (think IT but with a worse makeup artist), Hamburglar (who was literally a criminal), Grimace (who was severely overweight and apparently in chronic pain, thus the name), and Officer Big Mac (who literally had a huge hamburger for a head). Even though they were weird, they were basically family. Our relationship had me hooked at a very young age and only grew stronger as the years rolled on.

Now, you might think, How on earth would a good parent/caretaker let you eat that way? And thats just the thing my grandparents were good caretakers. In fact, Id argue that they were the best. They taught me the importance of education, spent quality time with me, made holidays and special moments truly enchanting, and they always held me close and were proud of me, even though I was different.

I say that I was different because I was a little biracial kid living in a household with my two older, white grandparents. And this was during a time that it was definitely rare to see a situation like ours. But even though I probably stuck out like a caramel thumb with my curly afro when I was out with them, they never let me feel like I didnt belong. It was much later, outside of their care, that I learned I was different. But well get to that in a moment.

My grandmother, like many parents and grandparents, wanted me to feel like I was special. And one of the ways she did that was through food. In many ways, food is an expression of love. Its not just stuff we eat. Food can be an act of service, a gift, a means of quality time, a channel for words of affirmation, and, more than anything, food can touch our mind and body like few things can. If youve ever read the book The 5 Love Languages, this might sound familiar to you. As humans, we all communicate and receive love through five basic methods: Acts of Service, Giving/Receiving Gifts, Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, and Physical Touch. Food deliciously fits into all of those categories, and thats why food is one of the most powerful things in our universe.

Since my grandmother communicated her love to me through food and she wanted me to be happy, she always bought the foods she knew Id like. Whether it was homemade, fresh from the microwave, or straight out of a paper bag from a fast food joint, good vibes were attached to those meals. Plus, like many parents and caretakers, she just wanted to make sure the kid ate, period! I was already a skinny child, so getting those calories in me by any means necessary was only the right thing to do. You dont want a kid wasting away on your watch!

Add on top of that the brilliant marketing by food manufactures. Their messaging led parents to believe that these foods were the right choice for your growing kids. Its fortified with vitamins and minerals and gives your little ones everything they need. Plus, if you wanted some extra insurance, just have the kiddos pop a couple of Flintstones vitamins. And even though it was just glorified candy, at least it might prevent a few kids from getting scurvy.

Now, whats truly strange about this is that my grandmother and grandfather lived their lives differently from many of the people in our neighborhood. My grandmother tended her own vegetable garden (although I never touched any of her bounty), had a lush cellar where she kept jarred foods she prepared, and she even made ice cream from snow, one time. I know the wise saying is to never eat yellow snow, but that vanilla ice cream she made was pretty tasty. What Im trying to say is that she took a healthier approach to things, as did my grandfather, who hunted and foraged for many years as well. But the pace of life and convenience of heavily processed food eventually got its grips into them too.