PSA: Kroger's Great Value Tortilla Thins Full of Delicious Lies

I feel the need to make a Public Service Announcement: the Kroger Great Value/Private Selection Tortilla Thins Tortilla Chip nutritional information is grossly incorrect.

The nutritional label states that a serving size is 1 ounce, or 22 chips. I have weighed out 1 ounce from three separate bags now, and it's only 9 or 10 chips.

BOO!

22 chips is more like 2 ounces. That's more than double the Points, calories, fat, carbs, etc. ARGH!

I kept buying the Thins because I could have SO MANY with each meal--seriously, some brands have, like, a serving size of 7 chips. We have gotten bag after bag of the Tortilla Thins because there is a HUGE difference between having 7 chips and having 22 chips. 7 chips with salsa is a light snack; 22 chips with salsa is a meal. 7 chips with melted cheese is a side item; 22 chips with melted cheese is a dinner platter.

I'm so disappointed with Kroger. I tried to call and email them about it, but they just brushed me off saying they'd look into it. This was a few weeks ago, and the bags haven't changed. They don't seem to get it. I mean, 9 chips versus 22 chips is a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE. I was calculating the wrong Points for months. But aside from my own petty complaints, this could have serious health repercussions for people.

A diabetic closely monitoring carbohydrates knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 18g and 36g of carbs.

A heart patient monitoring sodium knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 75mg and 150mg of sodium.

And anyone monitoring fat or calories knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 140 calories/7g of fat and 280 calories/14g of fat.

And anyone one Weight Watchers knows there's a BIG ASS DIFFERENCE between 4 Points and 8 Points.

This is really dangerous misinformation.

And I'd venture to call this false advertising as well. I was purchasing a product specifically because of the information presented on the label, and it was incorrect. I like the Tortilla Thins because they're good, but I BUY them because I thought I could have 22 per serving for 4 Points. LIES.

Anyway, I've been thinking of this every time I see the chips, so I wanted to share. I'm now really careful to weigh out my food instead of going by the product label, but it would be nice to live in a world where you could actually trust the packaging.

Naughty Kroger!

Trauma Club

My mom is having heart surgery today. She has already had open heart surgery (as have I) but this time, she's having a stent put in to try opening her Superior vena cava. There is a good possibility that the balloon they're using to open the SVC could rip through the old scar tissue, causing her to bleed out or go into cardiac arrest. There's also a good possibility that everything will go perfectly and she'll leave with totally restored blood flow (or at least better blood flow than she has now...it can't get much worse than it already is).

My mom has worse luck than me. She has lupus, fibromyalgia, diabetes, COPD, sleep apnea, Raynaud's Disease, and she also had her open heart surgery for a freak reason: she lived near the airport for many years and the pulverized pigeon shit on the runways became airborne and entered her lungs, leading to histoplasmosis which caused severe scarring and started blocking veins.

On top of that, my mom is big. Large. Shorter than me but rounder. I still envy her, though. She was tiny and beautiful when she was younger. She went to modeling school. She was, like, 110 pounds. I'm jealous that she's at least had a chance to be thin. But then she got pregnant with me and never lost the baby weight. 30 years later and she's bigger than ever. I'm sure she blames me for making her fat just as I partially blame her for making me fat. In the end, I guess we can only really blame ourselves. Her fat drags her down as much as mine drags me, but her additional health problems make her situation even more grim. Not like anyone is going to convince her to lose weight (or stop smoking when she's on her third bout if pneumonia or bronchitis or pleurisy in a season, or wear gloves when her fingers go numb and turn white, or stop eating cookies for breakfast when her blood sugar is 250).

With all of her health problems, you'd think that going into heart surgery she'd be worrying about what could go wrong in the operating room, what complications they might run into, bad reactions to the anesthetic, waking up in the middle of the surgery and feeling everything...the usual concerns (for me, at least).

Not my mom.

Instead, the thoughts that have occupied her mind and driven her sick with anxiety are all pre-operative. She's had this procedure done before--although it was years ago, and the blood flow is much more restricted now, making surgery even riskier--and she still remembers the steps they took.

To insert the cameras and tubing, they go through her groin. This makes a scary procedure instantly transform into sheer torture. First, they have to wash you. THEY wash you. I know first-hand how miserable and humiliating that is for a fat girl. I had the misfortune of being rushed to the cardiac ICU to treat a blood clot on my artificial valve once, and they pumped me full of clot-busting blood thinners. Because of the risk of bleeding, they confined me to my bed for several days (I even had to use a bed pan. Seriously one of the worst things I've ever been through.) and, because the cardiac ICU is apparently sterile, I had to be bathed when they brought me in. They wouldn't let me get up or move, so I laid there in horror as a team of orderlies wiped me down EVERYWHERE. And when I say everywhere, that includes under my rolls. Yes, someone had to push my stomach up to sponge me off. If I could have willed myself dead at that moment, I would have.

Which brings me to the second step my mom is dreading. In order to have unrestricted access to the entry point near her groin...they actually tape up her stomach. They push it up and hold it in place with tape throughout the entire surgery. Once, around three years ago, my girlfriend unconsciously reached up and nudged my stomach while she was going down on me and I haven't let her go down there since. That's something I have to get over...otherwise, I may never have sex again. That's a depressing thought, especially when I have such a hot girlfriend. But touch my stomach and I will never forget it. Just like my mom, whose belly will be shoved up by a stranger this morning in a room full of people.
 

Lastly, they shave her "down there." This may be the second step, I don't know, but I do know she is incredibly embarrassed by having someone push her fat around enough to shave her pubic hair. I can't imagine anyone doing that to me. That seems like something else I'd never get over. I keep myself shaved anyway (at least when it's not winter, although there isn't much of a point if I don't let my girlfriend anywhere near there) but if someone else had to get down there and shave me as I stared at the ceiling, I might die before I even made it into the operating room..

So that's what's on my mom's mind, and on mine too. I'm a little scared for her (okay, absolutely fucking terrified) but I also feel really sorry for her. That's a lot to go through in a day. Not to mention the other pitfalls of being in the hospital...having people struggling to shift you from one bed to another; not having a hospital gown that actually closes around your stomach; being in a bed with a scale embedded and knowing that one accidental button push will reveal your weight to the whole room; having to wait for a wheelchair wide enough to fit your ass...

At least she won't be alone. And I really understand where she's coming from. My sister will be there too but she can't relate--even at her biggest, she was still the small one. She wears size 6 jeans and is still losing weight. She will never know what it's like to face what my mom and I go through. Good for her. But I do know what it's like, and it sucks. It really sucks. My grandma knows too, probably more so than me or my mom, and that makes me sad. It's like we're all part of a Fat Girl Trauma Club. It's a club I never wanted to join, and I'm trying like hell to get out of it. I wish I could get my mom out too.

The Food Trap

It's day two of my Simply Filling week and it's actually going alright. I was lazy with lunch and had reheated broccoli cheese casserole (6 points, leaving me with 39 points for the week), but I managed to have a Power Food-only supper and I'm satisfied. Well, for now...I'm sure I'll still have some kind of dessert. Old habits die hard!

Really, though, I guess I can only hope that supper counted as a Power Food. I'm still a little unclear on the Simply Filling rules, so I'm not sure if the two teaspoons of olive oil make the cauliflower a non-Power Food. So confusing.

Eating right at work was fine--apart from the casserole--because I just brought nothing but fruits and veggies and light yogurt.

Then I almost derailed completely when I encountered what I'm pretty sure is my biggest trigger ever--my parents' house. Wow. I stopped by for a little while after work and I had to fight SO HARD not to go straight to their junk food drawer. They have an entire drawer in the kitchen full of the most wonderful candy and chocolate. Hershey Nuggets, Snickers, gummy bears, fruit snacks, oatmeal cream pies, chocolate covered peanuts...all of my weaknesses. That's usually my first stop at their house. Then I check the jar next to the microwave to see if it's full of Plain or Peanut M&Ms. If they're Plain, I'll grab a few. If they're Peanut, I'll grab as many as I can fit into my hand (and maybe an extra mouthful too). God, I love Peanut M&Ms. They also keep chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar at ALL times. And today, they also had two bags of those chocolate chip cookies from McDonald's that were still warm and smeary with chocolate. You know, the cookies that are so greasy and delicious, they taste like they've been fried for a few seconds. They smelled so good.

But I did not have a single thing. Nothing. My mom had a bag of Cadbury chocolate hanging out of the side pocket of her purse. (Not a snack bag, either--like, a legitimate BAG of chocolate. Yes, my mother is diabetic, something that terrifies me. I obviously come from a long line of women who make healthy food decisions. My grandmother is somewhere around 460 pounds, but that's a story for another day.) Plus, there was an extra bag of Christmas Peanut M&Ms on the table. Oh, yeah, then she gave me a chocolate Advent calendar (six days into December, so a calendar with six pieces of chocolate demanding to be eaten).

Still, I didn't have anything. I don't know if I've ever gone over there without taking at least a fistful of cashews, a swig of pre-mixed chocolate milk, a chunk of cheddar or Colby, an ice cream sandwich, or some buttery crackers with Easy Cheese. They have all of my favorite comfort foods, and they have them all the time. It's honestly like being in a trap with everything I crave but know I shouldn't have.

It doesn't help that the kitchen is the center of their home, both literally and figuratively. It's the central location, it's where everyone goes to visit. I'm already dreading Christmas over there, which is just like a smorgasbord of deliciousness. We stand at the bar, surrounded by food, and I'm supposed to resist all of the temptation right at my fingertips?

I did resist, and I'm glad. I came home and ate a really healthy supper (steamed broccoli with tomato sauce, onions, garlic, basil, and fat-free mozzarella, sauteed and then baked with a little more fat free mozzarella on top; I served the veggie casserole with crispy cauliflower bites and I'm still full). My girlfriend ate the Advent chocolate, and all was well. But being at my parents' and working so hard not to snack dredged up some pretty shameful memories that I hate thinking about. My cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk full of chocolate or gummy candy, spraying whipped cream onto oatmeal cream pies and trying to shovel it all into my mouth before anyone came home, stealing candy bars or Little Debbie's one at a time to minimize the chance of anyone noticing.

I'm proud of myself for staying on Plan today. And I'm proud of myself for losing 30 pounds, even though I still feel so huge. And I'm proud of myself for being proud, instead of feeling deprived or bitter about missing out on all the chocolate.

On that note, I think I might have some fruit for dessert instead of a Smart Ones. Ha, just kidding, I totally want the Smart Ones. But I'll still have 35 points for the week, so screw it :) I resisted enough today!