The Blog

The most difficult thing about being Katie’s mom is letting her see how much I still have to learn.

On the one hand, it’s great. I’m still learning! On the other? She shot past me on so many fronts years ago, and it’s embarrassing to have her so far ahead.

It makes her feel pretty good about herself, though. When she helps me break a bad habit -- like apologizing out of habit -- it reinforces her already healthy self-image.

And, really. Who better to polish me than her? There’s no ulterior motive with Kate, no hidden agenda. We help each other be the best versions of ourselves. It seems silly to worry I’m getting more out of the arrangement than she is.

I do wonder how it’s possible for someone to be that much younger and wiser. Then I remember Katie had certain advantages growing up. To listen to her and Darrell tell it, chief among those was…me. That’s why being a parent is healing. You give your life over to someone, and she inspires a better version of it. Everybody wins.

A million billion years ago (or so!) I was negotiating with a soon-to-be ex partner. He wanted to know what I wanted for my share of an asset. “Four thousand dollars,” I told him. “How about thirty-five hundred?” he said, before telling me all the reasons he thought that was fair.

“If we’re talking about a difference of five hundred dollars,” I told him, “it doesn’t matter what I think. I’ll take the thirty-five.”

Sometimes it’s better to have a clean break than the last penny.

Candace JohnsonI’ve been talking about The Willpower Workaround a lot lately. I promised. I promised the woman you see here, anyway. Candace Johnson’s not only my editor but the latest addition to my cheerleading squad.

You need one. You need someone who isn’t afraid to nudge you to be more of yourself. Who promises that being more of yourself is a good thing.

Thanks, Candace!

Five years ago I offered to give my first presentation on what would become The Willpower Workaround. I’d been free of junk food for almost three years at that point, and I was eager to share what I’d been learning. “It’s too specific to you,” the woman said, “and requires willpower most people don’t have.” I thanked her for the consideration. And I thought, “She’ll come around. This actually requires less willpower. She’ll see.”

She did come around. A couple of years later, as a matter of fact. I teased her about needing -- what? -- science to catch up with me. Seriously. Sugar’s widely regarded as addictive now, but you didn’t hear much about that in those days. When I gave my presentation at her library, she was as delighted by the turnout as I was by the interest.

And, hey. I should probably give the gal credit for inspiring that book title I love so much. Nothing says “I don’t have unlimited willpower,” after all, like needing a workaround for it!

When I set out to write The Willpower Workaround I considered collaborating with a doctor or a nutritionist for credibility. The response was, shall we say, underwhelming. The professionals I approached kind of patted me on the head and acted like there was no way someone without their credentials could come up with anything worth sharing.

I’d smile. I’d thank them for sharing that. Then I’d keep writing.

I wasn’t writing it for them, after all. I was writing it for you.

The best ideas often follow this pattern: “That’s crazy.” And then, “That’s really interesting.” And finally, “That’s genius!”

Ever notice that?

It’s one reason, when I told a friend many years ago about what would become The Willpower Workaround, I hadn’t flinched. She’d thought it was crazy. I knew better. Her reaction didn’t bother me a bit.

Well, maybe a little.

But not for long!

The Willpower Workaround cover for the home pageIf you need to lose weight but you don’t know how, maybe I can help.

Here’s hoping!

Darrell and I found ourselves in unfamiliar territory recently, sharing an apartment with someone who has a pet turtle. Every night I’d tiptoe back to our bedroom through the kitchen where that turtle holds court in his cramped aquarium. His eyes follow your every move. It’s creepy.

After a couple of nights I had a stroke of what felt like genius. I decided not to look at the turtle anymore.

It reminded me that all of life is a test of focus.