Beans beans the musical fruit, the more you eat, the longer you live… wait what?

I have never been on a diet ever, and I’m not starting now. I am not trying to lose weight or tone my tummy. If you think you can lose weight or get fit by going on a gimmick diet or buying a piece of exercise equipment, I hate your stupidity.

But I am starting to try to eat healthier just because I have two small kids and a wife who keeps begging me not to die like I’m a protagonist in an action movie. I think it’s cute that she’s so sure she’s going to outlive me, as if it’s not even a remotely competitive contest.

So I’m eating more beans. Not just, more as in, “more than before” — I mean, more as in, “more than you might think necessary or possible.”

But why beans? Why now? And why so many goddamn beans?

So… YOLO

I got the idea to eat a buncha beans while listening to a segment on NPR about blue zones. I can’t remember which show it was on because I think it was on multiple NPR shows. The news item was that perfect mixture of interesting and glibly superficial that every show from Wait Wait to Morning Edition, RadioLab and Marketplace probably mentioned it.

Blue zones are places in the world where people regularly live well past their 80s and living over 100 years is not uncommon enough to even remark about. Places like parts of Italy, Greece, Japan, Costa Rica and California.

Obviously something is going on. The perfect mixture of good diet, regular exercise, pleasant climate, culture, lifestyle and the appropriate attitude apparently leads to long healthy life.

For a red-meat-blooded American man entering his early middle age (I just turned 35) this news is kind of annoying and not very surprising to me.

I was raised by a generation of baby boomers who were themselves brought into this world by 9 out of 10 doctors who smoked Pall Malls while they deliver — for flavor AND health.

We inherited their drop-side cribs that were covered in slightly less lead paint than when they used them, only because they ate most of it before we came along.

“Gotta die o’ somethin’” is usually what a baby boomer will say when you remark on the dangerous or unhealthy behavior they’re engaged in.

So this news is annoying because it means I should probably do something to increase my odds of living a not-shitty last quarter of my life, and to postpone that quarter of my life for as long as reasonably possible.

It’s not surprising because as much as everyone would like to think, the fates don’t conspire to strike us down at a precise, preordained moment in time. We can control our health by taking action.

In short, and to steal a really dumb saying from the generation that came after me: YOLO.

Now before you congratulate me for coming to this realization, understand something:

My diet is generally poor. I’ve gone entire weeks without eating a vegetable except in chip form or because I didn’t notice the garnish before it escaped into my gaping maw while still affixed to the burger.

I am NOT planning on moving to the Mediterranean to consume fishes and olives and radicchios while gently puttering around in a garden and enjoying (just 1!) small glass of red wine per day.

I am not planning on ever ridding myself of the stress associated with the modern American work schedule. I am not going to engage in after-dinner talks, walks or spend time doing tai-chi atop a Japanese mountain.

To be perfectly clear and open: I’m only going to make one change to mimic the freaks in the blue zones.

I’m not going to alter my diet otherwise. I’ll continue eating factory farm meat, on top of the 5–10 cups of coffee and 3–9 beers I pour into myself each day. I’ll continue getting a modicum of exercise chasing down my kids, spending irregular time outdoors skiing, running, hiking, swimming, and “husbanding” while indoors, mostly.

I will make no other efforts to mimic the lifestyles of the old and healthy.

Yes, I know it’s cargo-cultish to assume only one facet of a complicated process and to think it will have a meaningful effect. And no, I don’t actually believe that making one small change will help me live forever.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Jtpf8N5IDE

According to the NPR stories, there was one common denominator among the blue zone inhabitants: beans. They ate lots of beans, on average.

How much beans? 1 cup of beans per day.

So I’m on day 2 of eating 1 cup of beans per day.

Results so far:

Eating 1 cup of beans is extremely filling. I typically eat 2 lunches while at work, but beans are sticking with me, keeping me pretty full on just one lunch.

My bowel movements have at least doubled in frequency. I’m usually a 1 poo-per-day guy.

Gas is not nearly as bad as I thought — I’m guessing because I’m much more thorough on the shitter on a more regular basis.

I had a vegetarian friend once tell me that it’s not normal to have to exert much effort while pooping and I rolled my eyes at her. I laughed, guffawed and possibly made her feel uncomfortable, teasing her about her naive poo theory.
Now that I’m slamming down 200 grams of beans a day, the effort is really more in getting to the toilet in time. I exert nearly no force in expelling my bean-hastened waste.