Fletcherizing - Considerations for Your New Year's Resolutions

Whatever your opinion of modern medicine, you can always find something crazier in the past. Take this little comic from an August 1909 issue of Punch Magazine.

Fletcherism
The Disciple - Now, waiter, you may bring me the fish.

Fletcherism or "The Chewing Diet" got its name not from a doctor, but from a San Francisco art dealer who purportedly lost more than 40 pounds through chewing his food until it became liquefied and the spitting out what was left. He also advised chewing not only solids, but liquids...so masticate that coffee, fella. And he believed you should only eat (if that's what you call chewing stuff up and spitting it out) when "good and hungry", angry, or sad...personally, being made to chew my tea only to spit it out would make me both angry and sad.

Fletcher saw the machine as an analog for the human body. He compared food to fuel, blood to steam, the pulse to a steam gauge, the heart to an engine, and waste to ash. It was the ash that seemed to fascinate him most, though. He advocated teaching children to examine their own waste, claiming if they were healthy it wouldn't smell and would have no evidence of bacteria.

Nine years after this cartoon ran, Fletcher died of bronchitis, or as he might see it a bad air filter. By that time calorie counting had already started replacing Fletcherizing. I never thought I'd be glad to count calories.

Of February and Gall Bladders

You might have noticed a drop in the frequency of my blog posts. Well, to be honest, February has been a bit of a wash for me. You see, it started with a trip to the emergency room followed by a three-day hospital stay, and a long recovery due to emergency gall bladder surgery. I'm all for being special, but not when that means having the "worst looking gall bladder" your doctor has ever seen.

The whole thing started the night of the Super Bowl. We had a few friends over, I made pulled pork, and things went just fine. That night, after clearing away all the dishes we turned in, expecting nothing more than being a little tired on Monday morning. Instead, as I lay in bed, I started having cramps.

The cramps worsened throughout the evening and eventually I became nauseous, so I thought I'd probably gotten the stomach flu. One of our friends who'd came to watch the game had recently gotten over a stomach illness and it didn't seem impossible that I'd picked up the same bug. So, I moved to the couch and turned on ESPN to watch the endless drivel and re-imagining of the season ender while I weathered the symptoms. The only problem was, the symptoms didn't get  better - they worsened.

By midnight I'd called off work, I spent Monday alternating between lying awake in bed and soaking in a hot tub (seemed to be the only thing that would dull the pain). Finally, at seven thirty Monday evening, I gave in and asked Kelly to drive me to the emergency room where I was probed, prodded, tested, and finally diagnosed as needing to have my gall bladder removed.

I'm home again now, and slowly getting back to normal. Still moving a little slowly and it'll be a long time before I'm doing any vigorous exercise, but I'm recovering and as my energy returns I'll be back to publishing with more regularity. So, just hold tight!

Coronet Films - 1950s Advice on Health and Fitness

With summer upon us and with it the dread bathing suit season, we're all probably a little more aware of our soft spots. Hey, I wonder what the kids in the athletic club have to teach us about being fit? Here's a 1949 Coronet Film on Health and Fitness.