Ghrelin and Leptin, Our Dietary Aids!

Experimenting on myself seemed like the right thing to do. After years of reading that clean eating is, in and of itself, the only mechanism that the body relies upon to tell us to stop eating, I decided to test the hypothesis. Would the hormones leptin, the feel-full hormone kick in after ghrelin, the hunger one, had reminded me to eat because I was hungry? Time would tell. Or should I say, food would.

I have always loved fruits and vegetables, salads, soups and some meat. Desserts were there, too. Now they had to be of the utmost 'clean' variety, after all, dessert are not a part of the food pyramid. Today, my metabolism is slower with a malfunctioning thyroid, the culprit. Knowing the sources of the ingredients in my food is of paramount importance. When I make dinner, everything is 'made from scratch' It has to be. Ghrelin and leptin depend upon my healthy choices to play their critical roles in health and weight management. Healthy fats form a healthy part of my diet, too. For they help with the delivery/absorption of A, D, K, & E. My organic trio of carrots, celery and onions are at the basis of many dinner time meals. (I think I am in love with onions.) My sluggish thyroid gland makes me ever-so-vigilant of the things I eat. This gland is my director. (I do not drink soda pop.) I do not eat anything with high fructose corn syrup or its derivatives or additives in general. Our daily choices could be the difference between health and disease.

As the selection of food grows in the marketplace, nutrient content has not necessarily kept pace. When I was a little girl soda pop was for parties, not intended as a daily menu staple as it is today. There was no HFCS either. How we 'treat' the food we eat will ultimately determine if it takes its revenge upon us later. I never craved food till the instruments of torture - additives and HFCS - arrived on the food scene to begin their assault on my body. Is The Momsey's rhetoric over the top? I don't think so. These 'modified' foods have unnerved our equilibrium, made eating a constant interruption, for many of us. In the heat of the moment - hunger - we grab what we can and call it lunch or dinner. Hopefully, it is a healthy choice. When we eat out, anything goes if we have not prepared for it. I remind wait staff of my 'no added salt' rule. Head office says otherwise, I have learned. No thanks. It's my food, my body, my rules, not yours.

Plain and simple rules my life. It must also rule the kitchen and the reason that room was created in the first place: for the daily maintenance of human health. This is the room of the tasty, delicious and clean. The body responds as it should when food is made simply. Even potato chips (low salt, 3 ingredients) or caramel pop corn, with real ingredients, can be eaten without undue 'harm'. A small bowl or a handful and that is it for me. Listening to body cues makes all the difference. It all makes sense now.

To be truly healthy and happy, the body must always be in charge. Home cooking must be our goal, though at times, it is not possible. Our health is at stake. The ghrelin and leptin hormones work when we cook, simply and with integrity. Some food companies, in the interests of their bottom line include the additives, preservatives and 'complex' sugars in their food line-up to change our 'bottom' lines! We eat more, then buy more. Our eating experience has been altered dramatically because of this premeditation to increase the taste and shelf life of the foods we eat. The hunger hormones, ghrelin and leptin, do not know what to do. They are confused. (Aren't we all?) And so we eat, we crave and over-indulge in the wrong foods.  Produce, however, cannot be moved! It serves only one purpose: to satisfy real hunger in a small serving of nutrient dense foliage, seeds, fruit and blossoms. Easy does it. We are then at peace with leptin and ghrelin, our allies in energy management.

Our health problems are epidemic. Commercials attest to this. Ads promoting assorted drugs/vaccines to fix us were never seen on the screen when I was young. But food was simple back then. Our middle son, the family's health 'inspector', says that the body can heal itself. We simply need to be 'listening' to it. Ghrelin and leptin, these 'insiders' that dwell deep in our gut can guide us to health. It is possible to reset our metabolic rate by eating the food our bodies were meant to eat, simply and cleanly. Eating raw and steamed 'clean' vegetables, regularly, is a good first step. (Some nutrients are accessible only through this minimal 'processing' step). Look at all product labels. The 'almost' truth is there in print. Always be skeptical of claims. Eat locally grown food, whenever possible. Try something new from the produce aisle. Eat hormone/antibiotic free meats and only occasionally. These protein sources are now beginning to appear slowly in grocery stores. Experiment with different small appliances. I love my Phillips Air-Fryer but not for its original intention. Healthy fats are not the enemy. I have resurrected my pressure cooker. What a dream! (More later on these small appliance gems of Momsey's kitchen.)

One of my favourite childhood meals is homemade noodles, served with 'creamed' cottage cheese and accompanied by a large salad of green lettuce, green onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, dressed with lemon juice and a dollop of sour cream, all mixed together. (I use organic flour to make the noodles.) Once cooked, the fresh, hand-cut noodles are doused with an absolutely thick layer of delicious sauteed onions (organic always), with the cheese slathered on top. Oh My. It is a magical meal for me, a family favourite that has stood the test of time. (My family loves it as much as I do.) ... 

I listen for my body coach - ghrelin - to tell me it's time to eat. Leptin, his assistant, then tells me when to stop. Listening to the wisdom of the body's own 'calorie counters' - ghrelin and leptin - is to return to a simpler and healthier way of eating. Diets just serve to confuse us. Eating real food is what counts.

Big Poppa and Little Boy

I'd heard the cavernous bark, a few times. I knew he'd be big. The last time I had heard a sound that gigantic, engulfing the air around me, I'd been watching the movie blockbuster, Jurassic Park. 'He' was simply saying “Hello”. Someday, we would meet. I just knew.

He was my next door neighbour, the giant furry son of a lovely couple and brother to their daughter. A few months after the family moved in, we went over to welcome our 'neighbours' to the area. On that day, the big boy was out and about, as dogs generally are, on their property, in the country. There were trees and bushes between us and different types of special fencing keeping him there. (He had rules. We all do.) But today we were visiting or trespassing, not sure which, according to him, when the bounder came out of nowhere for a closer look. He galloped towards me in all his youthful canine exuberance. (Once upon a time, we were parents to a giant retriever, weighing in at 125. But Big Poppa was over 200, I learned, in short order.) Nearby, the family's pick-up truck stopped the plunge that was about to happen as 'puppy' jumped to greet me, using both front paws as leverage. I almost laughed but stopped, knowing he would think it was O.K. to do things like that. It wasn't, of course, but he was a happy boy, trained well, by his mom and dad, to be polite. And he was. In a moment of genuine hospitality, he had pounced upon me, to say hello. Had pheromones played a part in this sudden dance of the two species? I did not know. I was amused. He was adorable. That was all there was to that.

As time passed we got to know this gentle bear whenever we walked over to visit 'mom' or 'dad' or when my husband babysat him. One day, we learned Big Poppa was to get a baby brother - just like him. Wow. Two of them, side by side, one for each of us. Then 'Little Boy' arrived, a moment of celebration, a playmate for bigger boy. The little guy debuted early one morning, being carried for his first ever puppy appointment. (It was the last time he was carried). Later, it was the leash that managed him off the property. 

 

Little Boy's distinctive markings on his face and ears made him a unique looking member of his breed - just like his older brother. I would get to see Big Poppa and 'Little Boy', up close and personal, when joining my husband during his treks, next door, whenever he reported for duty. Big Poppa and Little Boy are mirror images of one another, two adorable peas-in-a-pod creatures, with personalities to match, but distinctive, too. From afar, they remind me of beautifully sculpted book ends with dark piercing tops and lightly coloured 'bottoms'. But up close, simply adorable creatures, members of the canine species I love. 

 

The fence that surrounds our properties, a mix of bushes, trees and space, is fortified with an invisible one, too, giving the awesome majestic guardians the freedom to run about, with ease, but with certain restrictions in place. The property is a picturesque bouquet of the beauty found in things outdoors, not at the mall. Life and living happens here. Both pups see and hear the sights and sounds our 'Sally' and 'Mr. Wiggles' make as they ramble to and fro in their fenced enclosure. The 'foursome', a pair on each 'side', engage in conversation, not quite knowing who will have the last 'word', but knowing there will be another day.

From the beginning, Big Poppa refused to come inside his parent's house, a respite from the very cold, even when temperatures dipped to -29 C. “Too confining”, he would say to his dad. “I'm right at home here in Mother Nature's outdoor oasis, with the shelter you have created for me.” I was learning much from this new member of the canine species. He had so much to teach us. As the days and weeks passed, we saw his baby brother's majestic puppy size grow and his persona evolve. His beauty defied description. How do you describe perfection, anyway? 

 

Through the tiny spaces in the chain link fence that surrounded their immediate outdoor home, I would talk to the adorable Little Boy and Big Poppa, as though they were mine, all mine, just like my own 3-year-old Mr. Wiggles and Sally. Sometimes, through the door of their winding two 'bedroom' home Big Poppa, the older, wiser brother, would appear, suddenly, as if to say, “What are you doing little brother?”What's the fuss all about?”, he would remark. “Oh nothing”, was all Little Boy would say, hoping he could visit a little longer with me, from across the way, without the penetrating gaze of his big brother on him. I could see the younger 'twin' solo play, from time to time, a sign of a burgeoning intelligence. You are quite something, Little Boy.

The brothers listen when my husband arrives to feed them and give them the freshest water available. With me, however, they would want to play and jump. ... If only. ...These giant dogs, with a friendly ease, are a double joy to behold. Cute and cuddly. Their size is indiscernible to me. I listen to their 'calls' as they move about during the hot, humid days of summer while mom and dad, business owners, are away, providing for their family. ... 

 

Once, during a hot humid spell of summer, Big Poppa 'spoke' over the 'air waves' reminding me that all was not well: the water bowls were empty, having been tipped over when Little Boy decided to engage his older brother in a prolonged playful moment of "Who's the boss of me?" A 'walk on the wild side' with these innocent little characters stops the insurrection and the power structure is restored, once again. The bowls are cleaned, refilled and all is well with their world and ours.

It is night time now, a peaceful time for all. Yet, occasionally, I hear the voice of the magnificent Big Poppa, trying to tell us he is here and watching over all. I know. “Sweet dreams, you incredibly adorable critter, hear you in the morning, if I do not see you.” You are both good boys, after all.