A week of Zen hell on the Okinawa Diet

By Kathryn Lilley

My sister, that guru of body wellness, put me on to the Okinawa Diet recently. The Okinawans are reportedly the happiest, healthiest people around.They're not only the longest-lived people on the planet, but they have a good time while they're here—reportedly, they have great centenarian sex. And if that's not a reason to hang around Earth for a long time, what is?

Unlike in the United States, where youth is worshipped and age is shunned, Okinawan elders are revered. Women in particular are the keepers of the spiritual bonds between the present and the past. In Okinawa, age is celebrated with healing rituals. They promote lifelong health through the practice of dance and martial art, which they believe nurtures your chi.

This was all sounding very good to me. I could do with less stress, more chi, and I could definitely do with more exercise and a better diet.

But then, I tried living the Okinawan way.

I read that the Okinawan diet staples include green tea (good), seaweed sheets (not so good), tofu, and eggs.

So I launched myself on Week 1. The first day’s breakfast was actually pretty decent: Toaster waffles, orange juice, and jasmine tea. Hmm…not that different than what I usually ate, if you substituted four cups of milk-laden coffee for the cup of tea.

Lunch was a bagel with nonfat cream cheese, salad, and more juice. By now, I was hankering for a little protein. Was the whole day going to taste like breakfast?

Dinner was much better. Beef Teriyaki with brown rice, ¼ cup low-fat vanilla ice-cream with strawberries (for which I substituted a scoop of Light Phish Food by Ben & Jerry’s), and papaya.

I enjoyed a newfound emphasis on exercise and de-stressing techniques. I bought little stones that say “Peace,” “Harmony,” “Positive Energy.” But was I supposed to carry the rocks around with me all day, or just arrange them on a shelf where they’d emanate good vibes my way?

My hometown lacks shamans, which are evidently critical to the Okinawan health practices. But there is a local masseuse in town who acts a tad shaman-like—she hums Zen-ish ditties as she shakes drops of tutty-fruity oils on your back during her aromatherapy special. She also does a nice ritualistic laying-on of cucumber slices over your eyes. So I payed sixty bucks to be turned into a fruit basket, and chalked up the fee to the cost of going native.

I have to say, after a few days on the program, I did feel more relaxed, centered, and I’d lost a few pounds. But honestly, the whole thing was a lot of work. Every day involved different menus, various healing stone messages to study, plus a valiant struggle to down something called Mugwort tea. I also confused some of my friends, who were surprised by my newfound, desperate desire for social connection, which is something else that helps the Okinawans live a long life. Ufortunately for the diet, my friends and I always do our social connecting at Houston's, where we wouldn't dream of bonding without our ritual of a shared pot of spinach-artichoke dip and tortilla chips. Probably real Okinawans let their hair down over something healthier, like stirfried sea horses.

Exercise, on the other hand, was a roaring success all week. I walked down to the beach each day and chatted with a guy who does Falun Gong exercises every morning on the sand. He’s a mondo harmonious, peaceful fellow—or at least he became peaceful after he made a running escape from mainland China. Evidently in China, they feel threatened by too much harmony. I'll bet anything they don't live as long in Beijing as they do in Okinawa.

Frankly, I don’t know if the Okinawa lifestyle is right for me. That’s my problem with diets. I’m stellar for a week or two, and then suddenly, I never want to see a sheet of seaweed or a “Joy” stone in my pocket again. And next thing you know, I’ve slipped back into American fast food slumming, which involves hanging around the corner of 31 Flavors and Mrs. Field's. And those good ole Yankees always welcome me back with open arms and a free cookie.

Kathryn Lilley is a mystery writer and a recovering journalist. She recently broke the Okinawa Diet by diving into a pint of Brownie Madness. If pint-diving qualified as an Olympic event, the judges would have given her solid "10s" for angle and speed of entry.