In days of auld lang syne...

Leave it to the Irish to give us something so mysterious, enduring and downright catchy.
"Auld Lang Syne," it's a bit tricky, isn't it? Sounds German, and no one quite knows what it means. In fact, it's Gaelic, and loosely translated means "good old days."

That's fine, but I'm all about the good new days. Life just keeps getting better and better!
And 2010 feels...different. Really fabulously amazingly wonderfully different...the days ahead hold much promise. Like, I want to reach out to the skies, jump onto the moon and dance on her craters. In bare feet. Arms raised. With reckless abandon. Let the stars gather in my hair.

Ahhh...reckless abandon. Good stuff, that. It's joyful stuff...and it's my intention for 2010: approach all its potentialities with joyful reckless abandon.

Now...back to work, but later today, and account of my trip to The Bonnie Hunt Show to meet Paul McKenna! The show airs Monday in syndication...

And the best part was meeting Paul, and thanking him for helping me change my life in such a positive way...details to come...

Ahhh, my long neglected blog...

Here I go again! I'd almost forgotten about this blog, and yet, it deserves my attention. Not for anyone else necessarily, but for myself. It's about a journey that will never end for me, a road I've chosen and embraced.

I love feeling well! I love shopping! I love love love life as a thinner person so much more than I did as a fat person.

It's a challenging road some days, but I know the changes I've made are changes for a lifetime. That's why I need to care for this blog.

I've spent the morning reading over my old posts for the first time in nearly a year, and I am still just so grateful for the person I've become. In the initial post, I mentioned finding my miracle: I Can Make You Thin, a book and hypnosis CD by Paul McKenna. It's still my miracle, but the best part is that it's now available in the U.S. I'm not sure what happy twist of fate directed me to find a book/CD that was only available in the U.K. at the time, but again, my gratitude is as wide as the Grand Canyon.

I have said goodbye to 140 pounds. Whew.

I've come so far. From a size 24/26, to jeans in a junior's size 9. Hope that doesn't sound like bragging; it just makes me so happy! I can buy the cute clothes that I once coveted and envied. So I hope you can celebrate with me...

So here we go!

Tomato Sandwiches

Mmmm, the bounty of summer! Delicious, garden grown tomatoes...mine aren't ready to harvest yet, but Baronner's Farm Market has bunches, and they're pretty darn good. When I drove past today the place was pretty much mobbed with patrons hoping to score some of their unparalleled sweet corn. It's the bread and butter variety, so called, I believe, because some of the kernels are such a pale yellow they are almost the color of bread, while the other kernels are a lovely shade of sweet cream butter, making a sort of checkerboard on the cob, and they all taste delicious. I ate that corn for three days this week!

The difference between Then and Now: As a child I slathered on tons of butter, a greasy smile on my face as I tore through ear after ear. And the corn was just the appetizer in my family. Then we'd move on to eating a burgers on buns, whatever salad might be served with dinner, and probably a potato dish too. Potatoes drowned in mayo. Or fried in more grease. Or baked, but topped with butter and sour cream. Lots of it.

Now I'm a vegetarian. Now I'm the whole new me, I don't need all that food. Two ears of corn are plenty for my entire dinner, maybe with a small fresh salad. And no butter. I love a little lime juice drizzled on sweet corn, topped with some organic unprocessed sea salt and chili powder.

Note: if you're going to put grease on corn, make it butter. Or olive oil. Don't even touch margarine. Not even the stuff that calls itself 'smart heart' or whatever. Just because something's name uses the word 'healthy,' doesn't mean it is. Do yourself a favor, and do a google search on margarine.

Tomato sandwiches...one of my favorite things! But the differences between Then and Now!
Then, some crap white bread bereft of any nutrition, lots of mayo (though as a kid I think I preferred Miracle Whip), iodized salt, and more mayo.

Now it's some Ezekiel sprouted grain bread, a little bit of Vegenaise, and good fresh tomatoes. Maybe a little bit of cheese, if I'm roasting an open-face sandwich in the oven. Mmmmm, it's what I am eating for lunch right now.

I still splurge now and then. I still love a few french fries--what's life without a good french fry?! I still love a little wine in the evenings...but the differences...once you've changed your way of eating, there's just no going back. All that fake food just tastes fake. And my body is thriving with real nutrition!

These are things we can all do!



I found some old photos at work today and I look at my old, fat self and am amazed I let myself live that way for so long.

As Dylan once sang: I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

Still getting used to the differences in the way I look...maybe it ain't Angelina Jolie, but I'm so grateful that it isn't the old me...

The Moment, The Scale, and Me

Da da da dum...

I didn't even dust off the scale this morning. It wasn't that bad.

There it was, facing me. It's LCD eye blank, awaiting the touch of my toe to awaken and...judge me. Foul Beastie. We pay money for these little monsters? We pay for this self-torture?

I can't say that I agonized last night, thinking about hopping on board the bitch. I mean, my jeans were fitting well, some of them even seemed just a wee bit looser. But it was on my mind.

"Oh please," I asked of the Universe, "please let the scale-beast be kind to me tomorrow."

Then the bargaining with self. "Well, if I stayed the same, that's ok. If I'm up more than two pounds...no, I won't think about that. I can't be. My jeans fit! but if I am, ok, don't despair. Work harder..."

And isn't it funny how a few pounds can change our bodies so much? But more than our bodies, those pounds change us. When we're down a few pounds, we walk a little taller. Straighten our shoulders a little more (I've been working on my posture; I find that yoga has begun to condition me to understand how important it is to keep a straight spine), move with confidence. But when a few pounds creep back on...we hold our arms across our tummies, or hunch a little...

But the scale was kind. I am down two pounds from my pre-holidays weight!!

Relief is a deep, deep pool of gratitude.

Eat Food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

The title quote comes from Michael Pollan. He's written books, and this wonderful article: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/28/magazine/28nutritionism.t.html?ei=5090&

Love this quote: Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.
That's pretty much all we need to know, isn't it? So simple, and yet...

The article is long, but well worth the read.

My friend Timberli came back from vacation with the book "Skinny Bitch." It kinda makes me feel all warm and happy inside! I've been known to bore my friends to politeness, watching their eyes glaze over while I blather on about health, health foods, the evilness of the FDA and food industries, etc. Then along comes something like "Skinny Bitch," and it makes all the stuff I've been saying for a long time fun and friendly; a colloquial, easy read. Thank you, Skinny Bitch authors.



Being vegetarian doesn't necessarily make one healthy. Potato chips, fries, cake, cheese puffys, all those things still come under the broad label of "vegetarian." But healthy they ain't.

Time to go home and do some yoga.
Fave yoga DVD: Beauty Body with Anna Brett and Ravi Singh. I have several of their DVDs, but that one has me feeling exhilerated at the end.

Countdown On!

Thursday or Friday, I'll be getting on that scale that I keep tucked under the desk in my bedroom. The beastie is a little dusty. How much can dust can weigh? Seriously. I need to know. An ounce of dust on a scale can be the barometer of our day!

I think back to my time at Weight Watchers, with all the ladies arriving wearing the lightest clothing they owned. Most wore the same clothes to weigh-in every week, to avoid unnecessary fluctuations. Then the games would begin, as they removed as much of it as possible, and took off all their jewelry too, before stepping up onto the Moment of Truth Machine. Every ounce counts on the WW Machine, and the mini-version lurking under my desk counts them too. So you see, "how much dust makes an ounce?" is a question not to be ignored!

I'll be sure to clean it well before boarding.

By the way, here's the thing about weigh-in day at Weight Watchers: after meeting, everyone would head to one of the local all-you-can-eat buffets. Weigh-in over, on to a food free-for-all.
Ugh.

My previous post, on the grossly obese who were featured on The Learning Channel, for the purposes of education and compassion, I'm sure (said with some sarcasm), might have been a little...insensitive. I'm considering revising it. Just a little of it. Not to censor myself, but out of compassion, sympathy, and empathy.

I work with a sweet young man who is nearing the point where he might one day crawl in bed and not get out. He told me, after his thin father had a heart attack, that it was time to get serious about getting in shape. At the time, he believed his weight to be in the low 400's, but it has been a long time since he was on a scale, and I would estimate him to be at least 450, but probably higher. Everything about his body looks...uncomfortable. His eyes are small slits that seem to be fighting the heavy lids above them. He walk is awkward, and he breathes with difficulty.

For all his weight, he is invisible. When you are that large, people don't see you anymore. And if they do, well, sometimes it's better not to be seen. People can be cruel.

A co-worker told me that one night when this young man came to work, he brought along three bags of groceries and a cube of Pepsi. He ate a whole pizza. Then microwaved a Hungry Man dinner. Then went to work on the chips and cakes.

What causes this insatiable hunger? What causes us to eat, and eat, and eat, as though we were hypnotized? Thoughtless eating.

Lots of things. I have many theories...thus this blog.

from Michael Pollan:

Eat Food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

It's Weight Loss Season!

We all got a little to ripe over the holidays, didn't we? A little too plump; it's time for pickin'.

Hey, I'm on that bandwagon too. Nothin' wrong with it. I did pretty well over the holidays, I suppose, but I'm still not getting on that scale. Nope. Not till two weeks. The Friday of the two weeks ending, because I always do the scale on Fridays.

Though I've been rethinking that. I always thought it was too obsessive to get on the scale every day, but maybe, to get that final 20 or so gone, I need to obsess a little more. I might have to work my way up to that. Start with two days a week and go from there. Because that scale certainly makes us more accountable, and that's part of what it takes.

Over the holidays I was watching some shows on The Learning Channel that were called things like "Big Medicine." Indeed. First, I love the irony of running those programs during the Season of Gluttony. If that's not a message not to reach for the cookies, I don't know what is.

These are the people at the max level of obesity. Piles of pale, rippling fat. Bodies that are bed-ridden, nearly unable to move. If these folks lie on their chests, the pressure on their lungs is too much to bear; the lungs might collapse, or they might have a heart attack.

They cannot bathe themselves. They cannot get out of bed to walk to the bathroom, and if they could, they would not fit through the door. The commode would not be big enough.

Man, you think when you're watching; there but for the grace of Goddess...

Television shows are created for one reason, and one reason only: to make money. No matter what lofty ideals might go into the creator's vision, it's a business in the end. Does that mean that all programming is created equally? Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely. A television show does not exist, if there isn't potential for it to make a profit.

Who profits from shows about fat people? There sure were lots of diet foods commercials during those shows. Diet foods that aren't good for us, don't nourish our bodies, and that are designed to keep us hungry and unsatisfied.

The lofty ideal is probably rooted in compassion. That we need to understand, accept, help, etc.

Uh huh.

You know, one of the men featured, who weighed in excess of 700 pounds, was filmed in his home with his wife. She was asked what her husband ate during a normal day. She seemed about to answer, when happy hubby interrupted and said "Now, you know I eat normally. It's not always about what you eat, it's your metabolism. It's wired into your DNA." That sort of happy crappy.

The camera panned through their kitchen, which was quite the mess, littered with pizza boxes, monster sized jars of Skippy, meal remnants, etc.

And I simply do not believe the guy. I can believe lots of impossible things before breakfast, but my faith falls short of eating less, exercising not, and weighing 700+ pounds. You'd have to prove it to me. I'd need a camera on that guy 24/7.

How do you get to that point? It's like there's a threshold, from being "morbidly obese," to "max obese." How do you cross that line? How do you crawl in bed one day, knowing it's forever, because your body has grown too big to move it? What kind of karma is it that you're living through?

My own body had started to have problems. I was more tired. If I stood for too long, the muscles in my outer thighs started to tingle, in a pejorative sense. Walking through the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my niece, my knee hurt so muc that I had to stop now and then to rest.

I thought my body was betraying me, because I'd always been so robust and healthy, despite the extra pounds. But it was me. I was betraying my body. I wasn't treating it well. Anthony Bourdain says the body is not a temple, but what the heck does he know? Treat your body well, maintain it, and it will do the same for you.

But I digress. Most folks at that weight never return. It's too hard. What's ten pounds gone when you have 400 to go? It's hard to measure success.

How does one get to the point of no return? I plan to never know.

Ahhhh....neglect of the blog has led to idle rambling on a Wednesday evening...
So, more of said idle rambling soon!

Two Weeks!

Ho Ho Hum.

So the holidays came. And went. And what do they bring but tons of food that I don't want to eat, but find myself nibbling on anyway? Food that makes me feel sick and bloated, but that I seem almost powerless to resist.

But I did practice lots of moderation this year. And thankfully, in my family, we have adopted themes for Christmas dinner. Last year: Italian. This year: Chinese. Yes, we ate egg rolls, veggie lo mein, stir fried snow peas, rice, etc., on Christmas Day. And we made everything ourselves except the egg rolls. So the dishes I made were plenty healthy, with lots of veggies.

Now Christmas Eve, well, that was another matter. Fabulous lasagna, salad, garlic bread...
and don't get me started on the wine and whiskey that flowed freely through the season...

So okay. It's now January 2nd, and I won't get on the scales for two weeks. Cop-out? I don't care. Two weeks.

But bravely, I did go shopping yesterday, hoping to find another of a favorite shirt that somehow sprouted a hole. No luck, but I tried on some jeans in my size (10), (and how crazy is that, to try on jeans on New Year's Day?!) and they still fit quite well. *Insert sigh of relief here!*

My indulgences are getting fewer. It's simple: I don't feel as well when I eat poor quality food. It weighs me down, literally and figuratively.

More soon...

Emaciatrix!

I was reading a review about the upcoming film Atonement by Kyle Smith for the New York Post (http://kylesmithonline.com/?p=736) in which he refers to Keira Knightly as an Emaciatrix. His exact quote:

Emaciatrix Keira Knightley, who is getting thinner with each role and is on track to disappear entirely by 2013

The term is new to me, but seems destined to work its way into the vernacular.

She's absolutely gorgeous. Who wouldn't want to look like her? And I can practically hear all the studio execs saying "Lose weight. Get thinner. The thinner you are, the bigger star you'll become." This to a woman who had a beautiful figure to begin with. Just watch Bend It Like Beckam to see how fat she wasn't.

Is it the execs fault that we worship The Stick?

I wish I could follow her around for a day and see what she eats. Jennifer Annistion, Angelina Jolie, all of 'em. Make it a week. One week to track their food intake.

To be continued...work beckons!

20 pounds is a lot!

Sunday evening...just finished half an hour on the rebounder. I was using ten pound dumb bells, and, dayum, they're heavy!

"Wow," I thought, "I can't remember what it felt like to have an extra twenty pounds on my body, but it must have been heavy."

That extra twenty pounds was work. I only used them for ten minutes, then reverted to the five pound weights.

I don't miss that twenty pounds.

I don't miss the gym, either. Saturday morning I sat at St. Sebastian with my mug of cappuccino, perched in the window seat, reading Atonement and listening to soft conversations around me. I also worked a bit on the poem I'm writing for Cassandra's wedding. I think I'll make this a Saturday morning ritual for now, because it felt so good. And I think I'll work on my novel there.

In fact, I think it would be lovely to find a way to sit there happily many mornings, blissfully working on my novel. Hmmm...

I want Angelina Jolie's body...

...in 15 minutes a day. Not her real body, because she's starting to look really scrawny (though still gorgeous). But her fake body in Beowulf.

15 minutes. Not enough? I'll go 30. No, seriously, 60 minutes a day, 4-6 days a week. No pressure, because you have to have a day off now and then or it screws up your whole system. Yes? I vote yes.

60 minutes a day of exercise is a big commitment. I'm not an athlete. I don't really want to be an athlete, but I wouldn't mind looking like one. In these times, it's a pretty fun body to have, or so they say. That's what every television commercial says: hard, thin bodies are the ones that are having fun.

I've thought a lot this weekend about my decision to stop going to the gym. I don't feel guilty at all. I don't feel like a failure. I am so happy to have made that decision. I love to exercise in my own space, at my own pace. I love exercise when it's something that brings me in touch with who I am, when it reveals my own secrets to me. I like peaceful exercise. And the gym was robbing me of that experience. Everything about the gym is loud. Peace is so much better. So I feel really happy about making the right decision.

This has been a wonderful weekend. My friends Joyce, Timberli, Bryan and myself won a little over $450 on some lottery tickets. We were sitting in a local pub, ready for lame small town comedy night, scratching away...and Joyce looked at me and said "This is a $400 ticket." It was like I didn't hear it at first, it didn't completely compute. I said "Yeah, look I think this is a $50 card."

It was limbo for just a sec, and Timberli came to the table. I said "Hey, we just won $400! Well, $450!"

And the celebration commenced! I feel very lucky, and, at the end of this long busy Thanksgiving weekend, I feel thankful. For family, for friends, for good fortune and abundance. Luck is a cool, funny, mysterious thing. Four of us got a lovely piece of luck this weekend. I'm thrilled for all of us, and I think with proper appreciation for our good fortune, we will find even more good luck coming our way. And I for one am thankful.

My landlord died today. I'll miss him; he was a very good man. I've been missing him for a while, because Alzheimer's has been destroying his mind for years. Best of luck on your new journey, Mr. K.

I Hate the Gym

Well, it's more precise to say I hate going to the gym.

I love exercise. It's part of my life now.

But going to the gym. It took entirely too much of my time. Yes, I used past tense, because I'm not going any more. It was a huge weight off my shoulders when I was home yesterday, the Friday after Thanksgiving, having blown off going to the gym, when I realized, you know what? There's nothing compelling me to go. I want to be at home. I want to do yoga and watch the cats. I want to work on a poem I'm writing as part of a friend's wedding gift. I don't have to go! So I'm not gonna go! I'm free!

Felt good.

At the end of the work day, driving 25 minutes to the gym, working out for an hour when the trainer would have loved two, driving home another half hour...I was lucky to have dinner by 7. It left me so little time in the evening for myself.

And...at the gym, you can't find your own head-space. I know that sounds like some kind of 70's hippy jargon, but it's true. Too many people, too many TVs, too much erratic energy. At home, I'm relaxed, I am in my own space, with my own voice...

I love that.

My work out is so much better when it's peaceful.

Today I rose early, did some yoga, worked with some weights, tortured my abs, had a lovely shower...went to the cool little coffee shop I frequent on Saturdays, sat in the window with my cappuccino and novel, flirted with a cute guy a little bit...ahhhhh....

Passion vs. Obsession. Part One.

I went to Weight Watchers. Several times. That seems to be the pattern: people join, lose some weight, get frustrated, quit, join again, moan and commiserate at the meetings about all the reasons they failed and why they've come back...and I was certainly a part of that cycle. I can rattle off the names of lots of women who have done the same.

So let's see. We start out with high hopes. Obsess about fat/calories/fiber. Succeed a little bit. Then...fail.


And then we do it again. Ummm. Isn't this a faulty equation?

I've done the WW thing several times. I had my little slide rule, and like all the other women, I tried to find the most food for the least amount of points. What that leads to is eating a lot of "false food." White bread bereft of nutrition, microwave meals, etc. No matter how many times they write "HEALTHY" on that microwave meal, please, please, let's not kid ourselves. The first clue is the list of ingredients; it's a mile long! And you can't pronounce half the stuff! C'mon! Then it's microwaved--and we don't call it "nuked" for nothin' do we?!

I gave away my microwave. Sometimes use the one at work, because I must admit it's handy when you want a cup of soup, and we don't have a stove in the lunchroom.

So anyway, for me, Weight Watchers was obsession. I wasn't paying attention to my mind/body/spirit. I was just eating, with all my thoughts concentrated on how much I could eat and still stay in my points range.

I did not want to do that anymore. That's not freedom.

So...on passion. I prefer it. The better my food, the better I feel, whether I say goodbye to this last 20 pounds or not.

I did not count calories, did not count fat. What I did do, is pay attention.

I paid attention to labels, and put into action all the things that I knew in my heart and soul were true: that we have to nourish our bodies with whole foods, and indulge now and then, because life is fun, food is good, we should celebrate both together.

I pay attention to my body; I listen to it. When satisfied, I stop eating. When I'm hungry, I eat. I love to eat!

And listen, here's the part of the secret: We are set up to fail. I have read many books and articles on food and nutrition, and I have come to believe what many on the fringe have been saying: there are additives and ingredients in food that are meant to keep you from reaching satiety. There are ingredients that are put into food to ensure that you never feel full!

Is it evil? Oh yeah. Do the research. Type "high fructose corn syrup" into Google and see what you find. They type in "MSG." And food manufacturers, they are clever. They have found ways to hide the MSG! If you see "natural flavors" or "spices" on the list of ingredients, you are eating MSG (there are other ways it's hidden, too). A meal or two of that stuff probably won't kill you. But if your morning cereal contains MSG, and your microwave lunch, and your snack of low-fat chips (that probably also contain hydrogenated oils and other nasty non-foods), and your evening meal...it adds up. The ketchup on your eggs: probably loaded with sugar, HFCS, and MSG.

Think about your favorite munchie, whether it's chips or microwave popcorn, whatever. Think about sitting in front of the TV with the bag. Do you go into a sort of mindless eating stupor, where one chip just follows the other till the bag is gone? You just eat, and eat, and eat, not even tasting or enjoying the food anymore. And it's not joy, is it? It's...obsession.

How does that happen?
You don't go into that mindless stupor when eating apples.
So how does that happen?

Do the research and you'll see: the food industry wants you to eat like a pig. Don't let the industry win! We can change all that. Even Weight Watchers...do they really want you to succeed? I wonder. Because if you succeed, you don't need them.

I sure don't need them! Yay!

To be continued...

On Fat Kids

A thin woman was expressing concern about her young daughter, who was just entering junior high. The daughter has become a little chubby, and mom doesn't know what to do about that. Should they have frank talks about nutrition? Should she try to restrict her daughter's food?

That's a start, I guess. Asking the right questions. Because here is the truth: there is nothing she can do. If her daughter wants to be fat, she will become fat. If she doesn't consciously want to become fat, she still might become fat.

Is it harder to love a fat daughter?

I mean, the girl can control that, right? She should be able to control that, shouldn't she? Should mom try to teach her control?
If she had been born without a leg, or with Down's Syndrome, or freckles, whatever, well, those things aren't controllable. But being fat, that's a choice.

So, is it harder for a thin mom to love a fat daughter? Is she disappointed? Or genuinely concerned?

And here's another thing: I wonder what that 14 year old girl's generation will think of being fat. When I was in grade school, there were maybe 3 fat kids in any class. But now, what, at least a quarter of the kids are overweight? So will it seem much more normal to them to be a little bigger/softer/rounder, or will they still worship the elusive stick?

We are starting to become obsessed with our health, as a country, I think. I'm hoping we don't become a fat nation; I'd much prefer that we become healthy and happy.

But what should mom do about her daughter?

I don't have kids, so this is a challenge for me. I have to give it more thought.

For me, my memories suggest that I was a reasonably happy child. Everyone else was far more concerned with my weight than I was. I'll have to find some pics and post them here.

To be continued.

Saturday Thoughts

t's a really good morning. After an exhausting Friday (when I dragged myself home after work, skipping out on going to the gym, forced myself to do half an hour of yoga while building a very comfortable fire to keep me warm, and having a nip of medicinal Jameson), I got a pretty good night's sleep.

At the gym first thing this morning. I like the Saturday morning work-out. At first I was alone, but the place filled up pretty quickly and I loved the buzz of people up doing something positive for themselves.

It all got my mind to wandering, and lately, more and more, my mind wanders to issues of weight and health. As we discussed in the seminar the other evening, there are so many books/theories on how to achieve lasting, harmonious, effortless weight reduction, all of them in one big contradictory heap, that it makes your stomach churn.

Run to the goodies 'cause there ain't nothin' workin' for no one. That's how it feels sometimes, for me at least. You work, and work, and work...I've maintained my weight for a couple of years now, within about 8 pounds of fluctuation. In other words, there have been times of indulgence that led to no more than eight extra temporary pounds. But there's another 20 pounds (maybe 25, but we'll see) that I really want to say a big hearty "Adios, muchacha! You've been a good friend, you've been whatever I needed you to be at the time, but now, it's time to go. I nurtured you for a long time, I kept you well fed, and parting is bittersweet but it's not sorrow, off with you know, be happy somewhere else! Don't come back now, y'hear?"

And I can get pretty hard on myself about that. I think: why haven't you done it? You must be a failure, you can't reach your goal. You're weak.

So yeah. That's a great thought process for goal-achieving.

I forget sometimes to celebrate where I am. I accomplished a lot, and I'm really proud of that. It's been a profound journey for me, in ways that I am just beginning to comprehend.

It's not about restrictions. It's about becoming free. That's what I want to say to myself. You're so much more free now, isn't that fabulous? Isn't that a reason to jump for joy? And isn't it joyful that you can actually jump, maybe even in public, without being too wobbly? Instead of looking Jabba the Hut, now perhaps you look like a small, not unappealing bowl of pudding.

It's important to be gentle with ourselves. Food should be more ecstasy than agony. If we could savor every bite...if we could delight in our food, and delight in ourselves...

For I do think obesity has itself locked up in some kind of sadness. When I was really fat, I don't think I understood that. And I definitely didn't understand much about nutrition and giving your body what it needs. There are a lot of foods that I rarely eat anymore, but the funny thing is, I don't miss them much. And if I do, I eat them. Yup, sometimes I still feel guilty about it, but I'm working on that...

Happy Day!
Namaste.

Meet Asian Women!

Or not.

I was a bit dismayed by the content of the Google ads I allowed on my blog. I guess it was naive, but I thought when they promised to tailor the ads to my site content, we'd see things that, well, matter. But ads for diet pills that don't work, promises to lose 55 pounds in a month, meet Asian women (which really had me scratching my head, till my friend Timberli said it was probably because of the mention of shirataki noodles)...nope, in good conscience, I can't allow that kind of taint on the message I'm trying to get across. They're all lies, promises with no foundation, that ignore the real problems (if, in fact, the weight issues that you and I have are problems; I can only truly speak for myself on that, but I have yet to meet a fat person who is truly happy to be fat).

So. No more false advertising! Not on my blog. My weight/health journey is too important.

Last night I attended a small seminar with Charles Eisenstein, during which he spoke on his books The Yoga of Eating and Transformational Weight Loss.
Held at a lovely little tea shop, with an intimate group of people, it was a very good night. Now, Charles is a thin man who has never had weight issues, but his life's journey has been a quest for mind/body/spirit wholeness, or at least, that's my perception of him, after hearing him speak and reading some of his works. I can't presume to speak for him, and I certainly don't wish to misrepresent a man who has such a powerful message to share. But I can tell you he glows from within, has one of the warmest, most genuine smiles you'll ever see, and is a gentle, intuitive spirit on earth.

I'm exhausted this morning, not because of the travel and late night, but because my cat Boris insists on challenging me in the small hours of morning. He's twenty years old, and he has...issues. I inherited him a few years ago from ex-friends who, at the time, were going through a divorce and would no longer keep him. Boris is a big, lanky tabby, the most laid-back kitty you'd ever encounter, most of the time. But he's had some health issues, and some control issues, and 3 a.m. seems like fun to him. So does 4 a.m. and 4:20. And 4:36. And 4:52. And 5:05. You get the picture. He must be here to test my capacity for compassion. I love the little guy dearly...but somedays, he leaves me depleted...
Send him a little healing energy, if you wouldn't mind.

My point is that I'm not expressing myself well today, because my mind is foggy.
I'll write more later.

Namaste.

Clean Your Plate

What a ridiculous thing to tell a chubby girl.

"Clean your plate." Make sure you finish every bite, or you can't leave the table.

Give mom the benefit of the doubt, and assume she was trying to thwart the desire to snack later on, but...come on.

And my grandmother, on the other hand, I think she was just plain stubborn. Or she thought mom was too lax on making sure I finished every bite.

I didn't like most meats much at all when I was a kid (and when I could, I would run to the powder room across from the kitchen and spit it out), but I absolutely hated any kind of boiled meat, like that in soups, or pot pie. Just the mention of pot pie gives me the shivers and almost turns my stomach.

It kinda sounds good, doesn't it? "Pot pie." If you'd never heard it before, you might envision apples, cinnamon, sugar and sweet dough, bubbling in a deep pot, some sort of delicious concoction to serve on a winter day with warm milk or tea.

Uh-uh. Yeah, we ate it in the winter, and everyone else loved it, and there is dough in it. But it's dough slices cooked in water with boiled chicken and whatever else you can throw in the pot to make it all grey and disgusting and oily...

Ugh. And I'm eating breakfast right now. Ah well, let the memory roll on.

Once, on my birthday, Gran made me sit in front of a bowl of that crap till I ate it. It got cold and even more disgusting. Mom came home; reprieve! I didn't have to eat it, and mom chastised Gran a little bit. What sweet relief.

I've never been one to reflect too much on the past. We are the sum of our days, I suppose, but as adults we make our choices. If we allow our perceptions of the past to cripple us, if we blame circumstance for who we are, we stymie ourselves.

Still, I can't help but wonder if little things like that didn't have their own influence on my psyche.

"Clean your plate." I cleaned a lot of plates. And I've spent the past few years un-learning that.

We live in a world of plenty. There is always food around. I don't have to worry about running out of food. So now, I don't clean my plate. I always leave a couple of bites of whatever I'm eating (unless it's a piece of fruit). It's part of the process of un-learning that I have to finish all the food I'm given. Another one of those things I learned from Paul McKenna's I Can Make You Thin.

And now, my cereal bowl is nearly empty...

What I eat. Part Two.

Anything I want.

It's true. No food is off limits. That would give the food power over me, and anyone who knows me well, knows that I don't give up my personal power. Nope. Not even to food.

As soon as I say "I'll never eat cheesy poofs again," the cheesy poofs are in control.
They become all I want. I look at them longingly in the grocery store. I read the label; oh god, how much hydrogenated fat per serving? And what are those six things I can't pronounce? Shouldn't they just be made of poof and cheese? Exactly what are natural flavorings, and how do they compare to that stuff that just doesn't seem natural at all? And can't I just have one bag? One leetle bag?

No! says the internal food nazi. No cheesy poofs for you! Only fat girls eat bags of cheesy poofs!

OK, I say to the food nazi. What if I buy the cheesy poofs from the health food store?

See...that's how it is. The food becomes obsession. If I want cheesy poofs, I have them. It's just that I don't want them much anymore. They leave me feeling...tired, bloated, sick. I ate one barbecue potato chip at work today, just to say I could. It tasted disgusting.

I know how it feels to be terrified that all that comfort food might be gone, forbidden. When your road is paved with junk, it's hard to see the beautiful yellow brick underneath. You and I, we love the junk.

I hated the idea of eating strictly healthy foods. It was a sometimes very rocky path that brought me to this point, and I'm grateful for every wobbly step.

So what do I eat, really? Oh, the things that scared me not so long ago.

Here is today's food intake:

Breakfast: smoothie (banana, a little frozen fruit, and a bunch of nutrients that don't taste so good unless disguised in a smoothie)

about 3/4 cup Ezekiel almond cereal, with a handful of raisins and a few extra nuts

snack: a delicious locally grown winesap apple. I bought a half bushel of these beauties.

Lunch: two Ezekiel tortillas topped with a couple of small tomatoes, red bell pepper, cucumber, capers, and a little vegenaise (it's a yummy mayo substitute) mixed with dijon mustard. And about an ounce of delicious organic raw cheddar cheese.

Dinner: small handful of Mary's Gone Crackers, one Qorn fake chicken pattie, and a veggie stir fry made with olive oil, onions, garlic, carrots, mushroom, and asparagus. Small handful of dates.

I don't count calories or fat, either.

To be continued...