Frozen Food Is Your Friend

Okay, I am loving this woman, Jane Lear, and her thoughts in her article "Surprise! Frozen Seafood Is Often the Best Option".  First of all, I am a pescetarian living in a land-locked state, so fresh fish is often inaccessible, over-priced or low-quality.  Jane makes some great points about why and how frozen seafood is a healthy option, and she has some good links on there to help you determine which frozen fish is eco-friendly.  Second of all, I love her comment "I'm not sure when [convenience] became a dirty word."  

We are busy people.  We are often too busy to grow, pick, clean, peel, shuck or otherwise prepare our own fresh food.  Three cheers to all those folks who are capable of doing these things on a daily basis, but I hereby absolve the rest of us from frozen/packaged food-induced guilt.  

There are lots of lovely grocery stores around that sell all kinds of frozen foods and/or pre-cut, sliced, and diced foods that are perfectly healthy.  Sometimes they are even healthier than fresh foods that have been flown halfway around the world over the course of many days, losing nutrients all the while.  The key is to make sure these "convenience" foods have not been coated in sauces or preservatives (including salt) that transform them into unhealthy options.

Of course, local and fresh is ideal, but if it is a whole food, frozen fresh and unaltered, it is probably very good for you and your family.  Defrost with pride.

Fiona Apple is Haunting Me

I went to see Fiona Apple at the Ryman in Nashville last week.  She slithered around on the stage with her Holocaust eyes, howling at the moon.  She played brilliant piano and left space in her songs for the melody to land.  She was herself unchanged, and I was lost in 1998.  I couldn't separate her current self from the bygone moments when she accompanied me at 2 a.m. on the subway in NYC, coming home from God knows where - not entirely sober - and most definitely not at all happy.  She resides too deeply in my past for me to be able to take her with me into the present.

Back in 1998, she was so angry and gritty and skinny.  I was angry, trying for gritty, and desperate for skinny.  She was everything I imagined myself to be, except I was chubs. I found myself, this week, sitting in killer seats at the Ryman, married with a baby, a house, and a husband.  She was still angry, gritty, and skinny.  Every other song seemed to have a lyric about filling her skin, using her skin, getting under or on top of her skin. Her whole wold still seems to be about her skin.  I got lost in her psychology and could barely approach the music.  My skin fits pretty well these days.

I'm not angry anymore, not gritty (except maybe for the killer tattoo I just got), and I never got skinny like Fiona-skinny.  Some tiny, twisted part of myself spent those two hours wishing I could be like that, just to know what it feels like to cave your chest in, stick your collar bones out like blades, and barely feel the clothes hanging off of your body. But then I remembered that I like being happy and that means being healthy.

Sorry I couldn't hear the music, Fiona.  I'm too far gone to the other side.

It Was A Dark Day at Body Baggage

This Monday was a dark day at Body Baggage for Misfits... and our best day yet.

Everybody came in with failure of one sort or another.  We had injuries, bizarre medical ailments, lethargy, plateaus, and plain old lack of follow-through.  We had opportunities that were missed and goals that were accomplished but not acknowledged.  We put it all out on the table, chased it with a glass of wine, and looked forward to the coming week.  By the end of the night, we had numerous people in the group making dates to try new forms of exercise and a growing sense of camaraderie.

I don't have any deep thoughts here.  Just... new friends are good.  Truth is good.  We are moving towards good, and I am happy.  Thank you, ladies!

Why Juicing Is Not All Its Cracked Up to Be

I tell my clients all the time that juicing is not all it's cracked up to be.
- Liquids don't make you feel as full as whole fruits/veggies would.
- You tend to drink far more calories than you would ever eat.
- Cleansing fasts are unnecessary for good health and unhelpful for long-term weight loss.

Sorry!  I know I'll catch some hell for this, but I don't like what juice fasts do to a dieter's psyche.  The idea is to feel full and satisfied, strong and energized... not hungry and frustrated.  Every time I've had a client who loses weight on a juice fast, they always gain it all back, plus a few pounds.  And most people get bitchy and unfocused after a few days of liquid only "cleanses".

If you want to eat healthier, eat lots of whole fruits and vegetables.  So says me... and this nutritionist.  See?  I'm not the only juicing-naysayer out there.

Permission to Give Up and Leave

Body Baggage for Misfits had its second meeting last week, and we were discussing tricks we use to get ourselves to exercise.  I used to put my workout clothes on the floor by the side of the bed and get dressed under the covers before flinging myself up and out.  Another woman slept in her workout gear before meeting a friend for early-morning jogs.  Another put her alarm clock across the room to force herself to get out of bed.  Several others pack their clothes and bring them with them to work, knowing that if they go home to change, they're screwed.

All of those are helpful tricks, but what happens if you are lying in bed or getting ready to leave work at the end of the day, totally miserable at the prospect of exercising and having a debate with yourself about whether or not to actually put those clothes on and go?  I say, give yourself an out.  Do not allow a debate in your mind about whether to get up, put on the clothes, press play on the yoga video, or set foot in the gym.  Do those things without burning a bunch of mental energy on the debate, but know that if you get to the gym and you are standing on the treadmill and you are still completely miserable... you have permission to give up and leave without doing a damn thing.

I have done this myself, and I am proud.

If the desire not to exercise is that strong, don't do it.  But you still have to get your body to the gym or out on the sidewalk or wherever it is that you are planning to exercise.  Forget the debate.  The debate is killing your motivation.  Get to the starting point, and then make the decision.

Walk away if you must, but do it with swagger. 

Are You Hungry for Apples?

We had our first meeting of Body Baggage for Misfits last week, and one of the women came out with a little gem of wisdom that struck right at the heart of the question at hand.  We were discussing cravings and emotional eating, and she said a friend asked her once, "Are you hungry for apples or carrots?  If not, you're probably not actually hungry."

It's so simple and yet completely brilliant.  Obviously, we could amend it to say, "Are you hungry for apples, carrots, grilled salmon, brown rice, or tofu?  If not, you're probably not actually hungry."    If you want pizza, french fries, ice cream, chocolate, cupcakes, or beer, your brain is faking you out.  You are craving sugar, salt, fat, and diversion, not real food that will nourish you.

Sad to say, asking this question alone will not solve the problem.  You'll probably still want a giant bowl of pasta or an entire bucket of Trader Joe's Oatmeal Chocolate Chip mini-cookies, but asking the question is a start.  In fact, recognizing true hunger for what it is - is an enormous step toward healthy eating and a body you can love.  It is one of the most difficult and most important things you can do. So start by asking the question every once in a while and see if it leads you anywhere.  I'd be curious to hear the results.

Hot and Unbothered

My article for the June 2012 issue of Her Magazine... Hot and Unbothered

I am a better person in the summer than I am in the winter.  I mean… I’m not a bitch between November and February.  I’m just happier, lighter, more of a glass-half-full-kind-of-a-person in the summertime.  The scorching sun hits my body and all of the pessimistic bitterness of winter melts away.  I want to put on summer dresses and wander aimlessly through the streets after dark with the humidity wrapping me up like a warm blanket.  I love summer in the south.  It’s hot – unapologetically blazing hot.

Summertime makes me want to lighten up, physically and psychologically.  It makes me want to be lithe and strong, not because I want to look a certain way in skimpy summer clothing but because I want to be light on my feet, able to sway with the breeze.  My muscles are warm, and my mind starts wandering into previously restricted territory.  I begin to dream about things that seemed impossible when there were no leaves on the trees.  I start to allow myself to imagine – what would it be like to realize one of those dreams?  What if I actually did it?

I’m talking about realistic, achievable dreams, goals that have been set over and over again and abandoned just as frequently.  Everybody has them.  Maybe you want to lose twelve pounds, learn to speak French, or go back to school for a master’s degree.  Maybe you want to appear onstage at the Ryman someday but you figure you’ll start by picking up your guitar and playing a song for the very first time around a campfire with friends.

Summertime makes me feel like everything is possible.  It coaxes my imagination to come out and play.  Life seems to start sliding forward effortlessly each year as the dogwoods bloom and the crew begins building massive music stages in Manchester, TN.  Summer rocks; winter blows.

So here’s my question to my training clients in the summertime: What do you want?  Do you want to lose some weight?  Do you want to ease your back pain?  Do you want a different job?  What do you want??  Would you consider taking a couple of months out of your whole, big, long life to consider that maybe you can actually do it?  Perish the thought.

We spend vast amounts of time convincing ourselves that much of what we would like to achieve is impossible.  There have been countless things I have spent years convincing myself were too hard, too unlikely, and/or too risky.  Fortunately after enough years of fear and foot-dragging, I usually, eventually get restless enough to challenge my inner-naysayer.

I was convinced I could never find true love.  I followed my heart cross-country courting disaster and landed in the arms of a soul mate.  I was convinced I could never lose the baby weight if I got pregnant.  Off it came.  I was convinced I could never be successful or happy if I left behind a career that made me miserable.  I did it.  And then I did it again when the next career pissed me off. 

I had a therapist tell me once, “You always seem to get where you’re going.  You just take the longest, most difficult path to get there.”  Lovely.

Why do we spend so much time tearing ourselves down?  My clients do it all the time, undercutting themselves before they get a chance to see what might be possible.  We tug and pull and procrastinate - digging up all kinds of reasons why it’s too time-consuming or too far-fetched.

For an assumption to change, first you have to imagine that maybe you’re wrong.  Maybe it’s not too hard or too late.  Maybe it’s actually possible.

After my twenties passed me by like a streaker at a minor league baseball game, I began to consider the possibility that I should go after a dream or two before wasting years convincing myself that those dreams are impossible.  I’m pretty sure it was summertime when this occurred to me, sitting on the stoop of an apartment building, wearing a summer dress, feeling like my muscles wanted to be stronger, my imagination freer.

Now, if only I could bottle summertime, stockpile it in my pantry and take a swig of it in the dead of winter when I am in need of a boost. 

Hmm.  Maybe?

I Wanted to Hate Her. I Really Did.

There was a beautiful woman at the gym today with long, dark chestnut hair. She might as well have been ten feet tall and barely had an ounce of fat on her body. She could have been a model, though you don't see too many of those in Nashville... especially not at the gym.  She wasn't doing the usual thing waify girls always seem to be doing while working out. She wasn't aimlessly gliding away on the elliptical machine, barely breaking a sweat and flipping carelessly through a celebrity gossip rag.

She was fierce, attacking a series of plyometric exercises: jumping and pushing and pounding away. She used her body weight to create resistance and gravity to challenge her balance and endurance. This woman was not messing around. She had fire in her eyes. She was an athlete, a lithe, beautiful, determined and focused athlete.

I was walking past her at one point to return my balance ball to its rightful place. She glanced up, and I couldn't help but say, "You are killing it! Well done." At first she smirked as if she thought I was being sarcastic, but when she realized it was a genuine compliment, she cocked her head, warmed instantly, and said, "Thanks!" with pride and surprise in her voice.

It occurred to me that we, as women, don't encourage each other enough, especially in the rhelm of exercise and fitness.  This modely lady was clearly not accustomed to strange women reaching out to her. I'm sure she takes a lot of resentment from other women who are jealous of her looks or her body.  What the rest of us don't know is how hard she works for it. She was grunting and sweating with the best of them, and I, for one, was impressed and humbled.

So I'm reaching out today to each of you who show up at the gym or on the hiking trail, getting dirty and sweaty, fearlessly squeezing into spandex yoga pants and braving the world of weights and treadmills.  Skinny or fat, it takes strength to get up everyday, balance work, family, friends, and maintain focus on your long term health.

My first impulse when I saw those long, thin legs was to be bitter and jealous.  Shame on me.  To anyone who sweats like a pig, I honor you.  

Weight Loss Update - As Promised

Okay, I set a goal and promised to give an update at the end of April.  I am a few days late, but here's the deal.

I have lost 35 lbs since the end of my pregnancy.

I have lost 10 lbs since I got stuck and set the goal to lose 17 more.

I have 7 lbs left to go.

Though I am not moving as quickly as I hoped, I am deeply proud of myself for getting this far this fast, for sticking to it, and for staying focused through the exhaustion of early motherhood.  I am in the best shape I've been in for years.  Not only that - after decades of struggle with body image and sugar addiction, I feel my head clearing, making room for a peaceful, healthy relationship with my own body.  

Imagine that.

The Baby Made Me Do It: Finding Freedom in Motherhood

My article for the May 2012 "motherhood" issue of Her Magazine... The Baby Made Me Do It: Finding Freedom in Motherhood

I am effectively a prisoner in my house after 6:30 p.m.  I have a four-month-old baby who lays his little self down in my arms each night and closes his eyes at exactly 6:30 p.m.  There are no more spontaneous trips out to see a band or late-night runs to the grocery store.  My husband works late, so it’s just me and my sleeping baby boy in the house most nights.  The little man and I have found a rhythm, and as the fog of new motherhood has lifted, I have discovered something I never could have anticipated.  I found my freedom.

I always figured becoming a mother would be a horror show.  Everything would come to a screeching halt, and I would live out my days a slave to the needs of my child.  I would be fat and frustrated, resentful of my husband and forever saddened by the loss of a life that could have been.  It is true that I cannot leave the house without paying another adult to sit in my place, but on all other fronts, my experience of becoming a mother has been the opposite of what I expected. 

I have lost every ounce of apathetic procrastination that I had in me.  I have never been so driven and interested in revitalizing my own life.  I am filled with an urgent desire to step out of my comfort zone and live bigger, to stop postponing my goals and move with purpose towards the woman I want to be – physically, professionally, and personally.  

As I watch my son “age” through these first few months of life, I am more deeply aware of my own youth and the value I should be placing on it.  I’m aware of the passage of time in a whole new way.  I will not be a young woman forever, just as he will not be a baby for long.  We are going to age together, and, thanks to him, I understand in a whole new way the value of my days on this planet. 

Losing the weight tomorrow isn’t good enough any more.  Calling up my new friend to come over for a bottle of wine cannot wait another week.  Not speaking my mind in my writing isn’t going to cut it.  And putting off the tattoo that I’ve been dreaming of for over a decade is unacceptable.  The time is now.  So often these things get shelved for fear of failure and judgment… fear of breaking free of the good opinion of others.

I am no longer primarily a daughter and a girlfriend.  I am a mother and a wife.  It’s my show now.  I never expected those grown-up labels to carry such power, but, happily, they do.  After turning 35 and giving birth, I think I can officially claim my adulthood.  

I want my motherhood and my life to be openly, gleefully messy.  I want my son to understand that I will not be trying to squeeze him into a predetermined box.  I am not interested in defining who he is.  I hope he will be kind, compassionate, joyful, and excited about whatever he decides to pursue, but I can only set the best example I know how and watch as he becomes his own man.

He is so small and vulnerable, hilarious and full of life.  He challenges me every day to crack my heart open just a little bit wider, to be calmer and to love living a little bit more.  I may be chained to the house more often, but with my physical loss of freedom has come a powerful psychological freedom.  I may not be able to jet out to try a new yoga class at a moment’s notice anymore, but I am challenged to discover parts of myself I never even knew were missing.  Through my exhaustion after 4 a.m. feedings and endless hours of rocking and singing, I feel younger than ever.  I have a fire to get out into the world and take advantage of this body and mind while they are still in their prime.

I’m sure my little man has much more to teach me over the years, and I have a thing or two to share with him.  In the meantime, my job is to make sure he has a mom who is healthy and loving, who knows who she is and is always open to new adventures.  With his wide eyes smiling at me every morning, I don’t think it will be too hard to stay motivated.  I have to keep up.  Game on.