#35 Chocolate Covered Anything

It's been a while since I wrote about food/food issues, and although some friends and family members would say this is good, since they think I obsess about food too much anyway, others maybe wondering if I'm "cured". Well I'm not, but thankfully, other things besides food have been on my mind lately.

Last night I went to a Bat Mitzvah party. Since my daughter turned 13 this year, we've been attending many of these events. One thing for sure, there is always a lot of wonderful food, and the cocktail hour is a favorite time of mine. Thus, I tend to over indulge during the cocktail hour, under indulge during the meal and am always good for a bite or two of dessert, but last night I thought I was in hog heaven. You should have seen the smile on my face when the waiter placed a plate of dark chocolate covered pretzels and dark chocolate covered marshmallows in the middle of our table.

As usual, I limited myself to a tasting and enjoyed every bite, nibble and finger lick. As my kids will attest to, dark chocolate covered anythings are my favorite treats. Truthfully though, when the end of the evening arrived, I began to fantasize about stuffing my evening bag with chocolate covered leftovers. Unfortunately, the size of my cell phone prohibits much more than lipstick from fitting in my purse, so that was that. [Note to self: buy bigger evening bag]. Talking about fantasies, I recently read an article in Ladies Home Journal about a women in Weight Watchers who decided to eat everything she wanted in a one day gobblefest. As she stood in line anticipating getting weighed, she looked around and became annoyed at all the skinny people she saw. In a fit of, well, I'm not sure, she decided not to get weighed and instead headed for all her favorite foods and food haunts. She started at Dunkin Donuts, worked her way through a malted and cheeseburger for lunch, an afternoon turtle sundae with extra sauce, and then a huge steak dinner with all the fixins. After I finished the article, I went back to the first page to see who the author was, and it was only then that I read the smaller print under the title that said, ..."author imagines what it would be like to act out some extreme food fantasies". I felt duped! Not that I would have picked her food choices, but it was kind of a by proxy sort of splurge for me. I'm sure SHE carries a large evening bag....

Reading this article comes on the heels of watching an Oprah segment earlier in the week on extremely obese people. It was heartbreaking. One young man who weighed over 700 pounds asked that obese people not be judged. The road to obesity, he said, was not the same for everyone. Another woman, who was once 600 pounds and who loves to go dancing and "partying", said that obese people have very good ears and can hear the mean and hurtful things being said about them. In the Good Housekeeping article the author also alluded to how fat people are seen by "normal" people.

I decided to share the article with some friends [not letting them know that it was only a dream binge]. Some were grossed out and couldn't believe a human body could pack away that amount of food. Some were surprised that she didn't stop halfway through the day out of sheer self disgust. And some were jealous that she just let go and went berserk for the day. How did I feel after I read it? A little jealous, a little disgusted and a lot worried.

My worry is for our future generations. At least once a week I read an article or hear a news report about the growing number of obese [American] people. We know so much and yet we are still filling ourselves with over processed, over salted and over sugared foods. Billions of dollars are being spent on taking care of weight- related illnesses. Restaurants continue to serve Herculean portions and the fast food industry is still a conveyer belt deliverer of high fatty meals to our youngsters. Thankfully, some restaurants have chosen not to cook with hydrogenated oil and others are starting to list the calories and/or ingredients on their menus. I've also heard about schools that have started healthy food and exercise programs to try to give children "life lessons". The hope is that the children can integrate these life lessons into their lives and those of their families'. This is great, but it makes me think about our country's current fuel crisis. Are we perhaps doing too little and doing it too late? Eating healthy and exercising has to become PART of a person's lifestyle and not something you ADD ON intermittently when you want or need to.

So, for those friends and family members who say that I obsess, I say perhaps more of us should. Dr. David Zelitch, the creator of Trevose Behavior Modification http://www.tbmp.org/, said that you can either obsess about food in a bad way, as in "I shouldn't have eaten that" and "I'm a fat pig" -- or you can obsess about it in a good way, as in "I need to have the right foods in my house", "I am going to count my calories", and "I am going to bring my own snack to the movies". My vote is for the latter obsession. Dr. Zelitch lost 100 pounds doing it this way. What I'd like to see in our future though, is a nation of people who are at healthy weights, not morbidly obese. No one should get near being 100 pounds overweight. For my children and the generations to come, I would like to see the healthcare industry spend a lot more time, money and resources supporting events and programs on how to live a healthy lifestyle versus spending so much time, energy and money taking care of people with illnesses related to bad nutrition, obesity and couch potato life styles.

Quote of the Day: "The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what we want most for what we want in the moment." Anonymous

#34 Bunny Lines

The metamorphosis of "husband Marc" to "cosmeceutical savvy Marc" happened over a 2 year period. I may be stepping out on a limb by lumping your men folk into the same category with my husband, but I think that many husbands and boyfriends stop really looking at you after they've been around awhile. I can't tell you how many times I've gone from blonde to brunette and back again without his blinking an eye. But this babble isn't about my hair, it's about Marc's Y chromosome evolution. It begins with the simple act of me looking in the mirror and seeing the signs of aging... the delicate crinkles around my eyes, the bunny lines on the bridge of my nose, the tiny red capillaries on my cheeks, etc. And I do mean etc.

It was in my early 40s that I started going to an aesthetician for facials, peels and it seems to spend ridiculous sums of money on the most up-to-date products. At first I tried to hide these bills from my husband. I don't think he would have said anything [I too was bringing home a paycheck], but honestly, I was embarrassed. Anyway, about 4 months into my new regime and 3 major facial peels later, my skin was looking dewy and softer, the lines were finer and 80% of the freckles and age spots had disappeared. Guess what? He noticed. Actually, he didn't notice, but a friend told me how nice my skin looked in earshot and that's when he noticed. So, my totally non metrosexual husband asked me what I was doing. I told him. After I shared that, I shared the bills with him too. I figured it was good for him to see that our money was being well spent. In spite of the peels and facials, the clock continued to tick and it was around the time I turned 45 that I decided to try botox - peels and facials can only do so much. This is when the second half of his metamorphosis took place.

A funny thing happened on my way to get botox. My husband stopped me. As you now know, his history was non-involvement in my beautifying, so I was pretty surprised when he said something. However, this time it was the doctor and not the husband that stopped me. He said that it was ridiculous to spend that kind of money [I won't even tell you what I was quoted], and that if I could wait, he would go get training and learn how to do it. I think we all know that this was a no brainer. I took a few little jumps for joy when he wasn't looking and then got on the phone with my girlfriends to share "our" good fortune. Of course not only would I reap the benefits of his new training, but any of my friends who wanted to slow down the signs of aging would too. I mean, he would need a few guinea pigs in the beginning, wouldn't he?

I'd like to say right now that this babble is not an advertisement for botox, nor any other cosmetic or plastic procedure. It is but a story about my husband's change of view. Getting old sucks, but he wasn't able to appreciate the effect it had on women as compared to men when it came to our faces. However, when he saw how my skin looked after those peels and facials, he was a convert. As he undertook his training with a cosmetic surgeon and then more training with a pair of oculoplastic surgeons, I saw him looking at me and women differently. During his training, he was able to see how a small amount of botox in the right place and some filler to plump those deep grooves around the mouth and nose, could rejuvenate a 60 year old woman. She might look a couple of years younger he would grudgingly agree, but as a surgeon, he saw the aesthetic benefit. I guess the icing on the cake was during an evening out with friends. My girlfriend mentioned that she was thinking of getting botox. The husband made some derogatory remarks and used words like vanity and narcissism. Marc, in his calm doctor/patient voice said, "Actually, I used to think like you, but I've seen what a small amount of botox can do to someone's features and how that little change can make a person feel". I squeezed his leg under the table and gave him "that look". You know, the look that says "You are sooo getting lucky tonight!!".

Marc has always been a sensitive man and has a keen ability to understand other's emotions. However, his sensitivity didn't carry over to understanding a women's vanity nor the aging female. Well that has changed. Over the past two years, he has seen what a peel and filler and botox and facial cream can do. His metamorphosis is complete. He understands what his cosmeceutical clients want and is able to deliver. He is honest with us females. He will tell anyone who sits in his chair that his objective is to make them look rejuvenated, softer and relaxed, not 20 years younger nor a Grace Kelly look alike. Alas, that would be nice though....

In conclusion, I am blessed. Not only do I have a wonderful husband, but I also have a husband that is now more sensitive to and understanding of women. Don't get me wrong, he's still from Mars in many respects [do plates left in the sink ring any bells?], but on the issue of understanding a women's desire to age gracefully..... maybe with a little bit of assistance, we speak the same language.

Quote of the Day: Minds are like parachutes. They only function when they are open. Sir. James Dewar, Scientist

#33 Bye, Bye Bravado

I've been blogjammed [as my college roommate coined]. Over the past few weeks I've had a lot of ideas flitting in and out of my head, but nothing seemed to stick for long. Then yesterday I heard about Natasha Richardson's skiing accident. Today, I learned of her death. For those of you who don't know who she was, I will tell you. She was a very talented actress, a stunning women, a wife of many years to Liam Neeson and most importantly the mother of two teenage boys.

Why after being blogjammed did this seem like a topic to write about? It's because her accident really hit a cord. I gave up skiing 10 years ago because of fear... fear of hurting myself so badly that I wouldn't be able to care for my family, that I would damage myself so terribly that perhaps someone would have to take care of me. Silly, perhaps. Felt by other moms, definitely. When I was telling some girlfriends at lunch today about this babble, I learned that one of them had given up scuba diving a couple of years ago for this reason, and I heard Kelly [Live With Regis and Kelly] say on the show that it's a parent's worst nightmare to leave your children young without having told them all you think they need to know. I felt validated. I read an article in Esquire Magazine [The Rationality of Personality by A.J. Jacobs] that said our brains are flawed; that they are not rational. Well, fears can be irrational, but they can also be very real. Nonetheless, the fear that came to mind when I heard about Natasha Richardson was primal. It was the motherlode of motherhood.

Momma's fear [pronounced mommasphere] - adverb - the global all encompassing, perhaps unfounded, real or imagined feeling that something may happen that will stop you from being able to care for your child/children.

Ask anyone who knew me before I had kids and they will tell you that I was a bit wild. I drove fast, played hard and wasn't really scared to do many things. Well, I might have been scared, but I did them anyway, and as I got older, bravado usually got me over the fear hump.

Exit bravado. My first experience with momma's fear came as a wedding gift. Friends bought Marc and me a pair of his and her roller blades. I'm not sure why, but it wasn't until our son was about 8 months old that I finally put mine on. This is an embarassing and ugly story, but the end result is I fell... badly. It was actually a crash landing where I knocked my head, saw stars and got the wind knocked out of me. I went home and slept for five hours straight. The next day I learned that I had broken my coccyx. I told Marc that I was never ever going to put on roller blades again, that luckily all I did was break my coccyx, but it could have been my back or neck or skull. What went through my mind on that day was, who would take care of my baby? My family? My dog? I gave the roller blades away toute suite.

Momma's fear and I became reaquainted in 2000 after 9/11. Marc and I had scheduled a trip to Europe for our 10th anniversary. The date we were supposed to leave was October 8th. Regretfully, I had to put the kybosh on this romantic getaway. He didn't understand that I was actually more scared of being stranded in Europe without a way to get back [G-d forbid something happened to the kids] than of getting on a plane. "What about my chidlren?" was the litany that ran through my head and out my mouth until my husband agreed to cancel the trip.

As I read my babble above, Spock comes to mind [from the TV series Star Trek]. Spock and his race, having dispensed with emotions, live their lives logically. That's food for thought. I mean, I wouldn't want to give up emotions like love and humor, but maybe a little bit of fear and worry could be bred out of us over the next couple of centuries. I know it sounds irrational, but why not. There's a saying that goes, "What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?" I think I'm going to coin a new phrase concerning motherhood -- "What would you do if you didn't have to worry?"

Quote of the Day: Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That's what little girls are made of; the heck with sugar and spice. Bethany Hamilon (top female surfer)

#32 Oh Dear, My Face Fell and Can't Get Up

It was about 10 years ago during a yoga class that I had my first encounter with falling body parts -- in case you're wondering, they weren't mine. Since then, I've learned that time and gravity are a bitch.

However, back then, I was young and still innocent of aging body parts. Actually, I was still dealing with post partum body parts. At 36 I felt young and in my prime. Picture this - I am in a yoga studio with about twenty women. We are all standing on our mats facing forward with our legs stretched as wide as comfortably possible and our hands are on our waists. We are told to bend forward so that the crown of our head can rest on our mat. So there I am, hanging upside down, looking between my legs into a full wall of mirrors. I take a look at my caboose sticking up in the air and decide to look elsewhere. I move my eyes to the right and see a woman in the mirror next to me with .... hanging facial skin. At 36, what do I know from sagging skin. The skin on our youthful faces and bodies is still connected very nicely to the underlying skeleton no matter what direction our bodies are standing, leaning or lying. I'm not sure how old this woman was, but in this position, her cheeks were hanging so loosely that the skin almost covered her eyes, and her breasts, well they were resting very comfortably on her chin. I smiled to myself and wondered if this would ever happen to me. At this point, if you feel the need, get out of your chair, stand with your legs spread apart and slowly bend until your head is lower than your waist. [Warning: major freak-out possible if you do this in a mirror and are over 45]

Like bras and panties swaying on a clothes line, I noticed other body parts. If you are still in the above position and your hands are on your waist, you may [or may not] want to look at your upper arms. Some of you may be used to seeing, feeling, lamenting your granny arms or whatever you call that hanging loose skin. Well, in this position, that skin is now hanging in the opposite direction - not something you see everyday let me tell you.

Leaving class that day, I felt energized and vibrant and young. Now comes the truly horrible part, I'm fast forwarding 10 years. I am now 46. I am in yoga class and the teacher asks us to transition from Warrior one [see photo at left] to Triangle Pose [see women in red below]. I've done Triangle Pose many times and getting into that pose has never really been a problem. However, this time something got in my way... and it wasn't a tight hamstring. I, of flat stomach and rounded butt, wasn't able to get into position because loose stomach skin was being painfully pinched between hip and ribs.

In Triangle pose, you are standing with your legs spread about 2 feet apart. Having moved from Warrior One to Triangle, both your arms are straight out at your sides. Continuing into the pose, you bend at the waist [lets say to the left] allowing the back of your left hand to slide down your inner left leg until it rests against the inside of the left ankle. The opposite arm is stretching up into the sky so that the body is completely aligned and you are looking up at your right hand. And of course, your derriere is not supposed to be sticking out, but rather pulled under. To deepen this pose, the teacher tells us to take our left hand and place it flat on the ground to the outside of the left ankle. It is at this point that I got pinched. I stood back up, used my right hand to hold the skin up while I tried again to go deeper.

It was also during this moment of horror that I remembered the yoga class from 10 years prior and the falling body parts. As I stood there in Triangle pose bending deeply to the left, I looked into the mirror and saw that my left cheek was trying to follow my left hand, down my left leg to rest on the floor next to my left ankle. I smiled to myself, a bit lopsidedly, and decided to take the high road. Looking in the mirror at my pretzeled body, I said to myself, "Self, you are one silly looking skin drooping roll pinching 46 year old VERY LIMBER LADY!!!

"Perseverance is failing nineteen times and succeeding the twentieth" Julie Andrews

#31 Foodgasmic

Have you ever had a foodgasm? It's that feeling one gets after biting, licking or slurping something so yummy, so wonderful, so extraordinary that you close your eyes and groan. Over the years, I've been privy to a number of whispered tales of "gasmic" experiences, but sadly, my role was as a voyeur and confident. I was a foodgasm virgin. I had never succumbed to that overwhelming "oh-my-god-I'll never-get-enough-of-this" feeling.... until about 6 years ago.

Before I get into how I lost my 'foodginity', I need to share some personal facts about myself. I used to smoke. Besides it being a habit [and terrible and disgusting], I smoked to keep my weight down. A cigarette was my dessert. Instead of eating something sweet at the end of a meal, I'd light up in lieu of a slice of chocolate cake or a brownie. You get the idea - I traded my chocolate addiction for a puff and suck on a cancer stick.

About eighteen years ago, Marc and I moved in together, and it was on that day that I had my last cigarette. Life was good, and because I knew Marc would never order dessert for himself, I wasn't tempted to order one for me. And when I really felt like I wanted something, I'd either have coffee or order a dessert and have a bite or two. Don't get me wrong. I didn't give up desserts or chocolate, but I found that just a bite or two of something sweet was all I needed to satisfy me. Sometimes Marc had a bite, but most often not. He never ate dessert. And surprisingly, I have had absolutely no desire for a cigarette since that day 18 years ago.

Now, onto my Deflowering

Six years ago Marc and I went out to dinner with 2 other couples. During the meal the waiter walked over and told us that if we wanted to order the chocolate souffle we needed to put the order in then so that it would be ready by the end of our meal. The two other couples, having had this dessert before, told us that we had to try it. It was decided that a souffle would be ordered for each couple to share. The souffles arrived and as I cut into ours, this warm, dark chocolate goo started to flow out. By the way, did I mention that a dollop of vanilla ice cream was slowly melting on top? Ok, so I mixed a bit of cake with some ice cream and took a bite. OMG!!!! So this is what the girls had been talking about. I closed my eyes and swirled the warm chocolate and cool vanilla in my mouth and had my first foodgasm. As I came back to awareness, I took a quick furtive look around the table to see if anyone could tell what had just happened to me. At this point, Marc leans over and says to me, "that good, huh?'. I must have groaned out loud for he then plunged [can you believe this is G-rated?] his spoon in and took a taste. After that, we dueled fork and spoon for the rest of the 3 minutes that the souffle lasted. It was so good, that even my non-dessert eating husband couldn't resist.

Since that night, I have, on occasion, had the pleasure of sharing other molten lava cakes with Marc and other friends. However, I have to admit, that although each one has been pretty wonderful, not one of them has ever caused that same hot flush, nor intense feeling of abandon, nor carried me to the heights of ecstasy as that of my first.

Quote of the Day: If it's so beautifully arranged on the plate - you know someone's fingers have been all over it." ~Julia Child

#30 The Cankle Gene

A few days ago I was in a neighborhood store chatting with one of the sales associates/friend about body parts. As we were sharing body part information, a woman standing near us piped in and said that she hates her legs because she has "low calf muscles". I looked at her and asked, "do you mean you have cankles?. I happen to know this word intimately because it has been used to describe my lower appendages. My calves pretty much run into my ankles... leaving me with less than shapely gams. At my most dehydrated, I may have some small indentation above the ankle bone, but really not so that anyone would notice but me.

I was playing tennis the other day, and since my partner is on the injured list, I was playing with a substitute I had never met before. As we were walking on the court, she said to me that she usually leaves her warm-up pants on because she has sturdy "Irish legs" or, as her husband says, "fire plugs". I looked at her legs. They looked normal to me and sturdy, but most importantly they had ankles.

It seems that everyone has a body part that gives them angst, is their bane, ruins the look of a piece of clothing, etc. Had my new partner not said anything about her legs, I never would have noticed that they were short and sturdy. I would have noticed that she has ankles. Some women check out other women's breasts or eyelashes or fingernails or hair, but not me. I just look at your ankles and perhaps envy the strappy sandals you might be wearing. You see, because of my ankles, I hardly ever wear dresses, and when I do I try to either wear them long or tea length. And, I love cold weather for one reason only -- I can wear knee length dresses with boots. I have dressy boots, suede boots, patent leather boots, brown boots, black books, high heels, low heels, and so on. I think you get the picture.

One time I went into a beauty supply store and asked if they had cover up for those red/purple spider veins that some of us are unlucky to have. The clerk showed me what they had and asked if I wanted to try one of the shades. When I pulled up my pants leg to try what I thought would be my shade, she looked at me and said, "Girrrlll, who would have thunk it? Your upper part doesn't match your lower part". What she said didn't shock me, nor did I feel insulted. I have heard this on many occasions from both men and women.

Back when I was living in Washington DC, my ankles were loved, desired and complimented. It seems that black men [of all nationalities] and Hispanic men loved my thick ankles and many women of African American descent who had the loveliest lower legs I've ever seen desired to have my lower legs. I told them that I would willingly and gladly trade in a heartbeat.

Sadly, I am third generation cankle holder. Of my mother's two daughters, I was the lucky one to inherit this gene. Yeah me! Over the years I've hoped for miracle cures. I've dreamt of reshaping my cankles with liposuction. I've wondered if there was a way to lose weight in just that area. At 46 though, I've pretty much tried, hoped and dreamed of everything. Although I will have to live with my "heritage" until I'm a doddering old biddy, I can happily say that the cankle gene stopped with me. My daughter, whose legs go from here to eternity, did not get my ankles. Hallelujah!

#29 Exercise Boosted by Aging Memory

It's amazing that I'm not emaciated from all the exercise I get just running up and down the stairs in my house. I've always needed to get things from the second and third floors, but this excessive exercise is a somewhat new phenomena. I've been in my three story home for the past 13 years, but it's only in the last year or two that my memory is beginning to go.... leading to this new "exercise routine". What I've realized is that since my late 30s I've been spending almost all my time trying to keep my physical body from aging and that I forgot my mental organ.

I read a blog the other day where the writer shared how her ability to focus isn't the best and that she may leave one room to go get something from another room only to start doing something else and return back to the original room without getting what she left to get in the first place. I'm exhausted just writing this and I think maybe she lives in a single story house because she didn't make one complaint about her knees.

Anyway, here's a perfect example of my aging brain. I'm getting ready to take my daughter to the orthodontist and decide that I want to bring my book. When I head upstairs to my night table to get said book, I see that nobody has brought the laundry basket up, so I do so. I carry it into my room and notice that one of my son's electronic gadgets is lying on top of the clothing so I take it down the hall to his room. I tell him that I'm leaving with his sister and that he shouldn't forget to feed and play with the dog. I open my daughter's bedroom door and almost faint from the mess and tell her to clean up and be ready in 15 minutes. I then proceed back to my room to put away the clothing. I finish that and decide that since I have a few minutes I'll go to the third floor to inspect the kid's play room [where I found a plate of 3 day old pizza last week] and notice that there are no towels in the bathroom up there. I run downstairs to the linen closet and back up to the third floor to put the towels in the bathroom. I tidy up the third floor and go back to my room to get the laundry basket to bring back downstairs. I put the basket in the laundry room and realize that I've left my cell phone on my bed. I run back up, get the phone and off my daughter and I go to the orthodontist... without my book. See what I mean? I sat in the dentist's office reading the same People Magazine I had read earlier in the week [at a different kid's appointment] instead of reading The Devil in the White City, which is a wonderful history about the building of the Chicago Worlds Fair - something that would really massage my brain. Oh yeah, and I have a book on my iphone, but I didn't have my headphones, which I had meant to put back in my car the other day, but forgot to do when I put them down on the kitchen counter to answer the phone.

I guess I'm not really complaining about the amount of exercise I'm getting. All that climbing and running is burning calories, working on my quads and helping lift those sagging butt muscles. However, I think it's my sagging memory muscle that disturbs me. I'd like to believe it's as my blogger friend says, "her inability to focus", that is causing my new exercise regime, but I've never had that problem and so I think not.

So, to improve upon my memory lapses, I'm going to increase my brain exercises. I already do crossword puzzles and computer word games and read copious numbers of books per month, but obviously more is needed. From now on when I don't know what a word means, I'm going to look it up. From now on when I don't understand a mathematical problem my children ask me, I'm going to stoke those old memories back into the current data base. From now on when I can't figure out the crossword and leave it for my husband to fill in, I'm going to persevere. From now on when I'm running up and down those stairs, I'm going to push even harder and faster. Perhaps I'll even leave some free weights at the bottom of each landing so that I get the full bang for the buck or ask Marc to chase me.... or not.

#28 NAMASTE

Remember back in January I wrote in blog #24 that I was searching for meaning and purpose? That this is my year? Well, I'm happy to report that I am on my way. Starting in March, I will begin a 9 month immersion class in Anusara Yoga. I'm very excited and also a little nervous. How did this decision happen? Well... truthfully, by answering a lot of questions. When I kept coming back to the same answers, wanting to share knowledge and be healthy, I sent out an email query.

I wrote to a yoga instructor whose classes I had taken in the past and asked her how one goes about starting a yoga practice [practice defined as: repeated performance or systematic exercise for the purpose of acquiring skill or proficiency, as in incorporating this into your life]. She emailed me some questions and said that it would help her [to help me] if I answered them.

I wrote and re-wrote my answers, each time digging a little deeper, until I was able to put them all into a cohesive and understandable letter. I then sent her a copy. Below is my response:

Dear B,

I love the way I feel after yoga [and it doesn't matter what kind]. My head, heart and body feel calm and at the same time invigorated. Some teachers are better than others, but I take and give in each class what I am able to physically, spiritually and as a student. Almost 100% of the time I leave feeling "good" in the ways one should after yoga. It's one place where I don't expect anything from myself and am always happily amazed when I see that I am able to move/stand/pose/breathe/bend/stretch better or more comfortably or further than the last time.

Ten years ago when I was doing yoga almost everyday, my body felt like a well oiled machine. No neck aches, back aches, pulled muscles or tendons. I actually grew a 1/2 inch. I felt sore after some classes, but the kind of sore that hurts so good. I was so limber in many ways, and yet, I was unable to attain many poses. I'm now 10 years older and what I wanted in and for my life then is not what I want today. Spiritually and emotionally, my temperament has changed. Physically, it's going to take a little longer to get that muscle and joint elasticity back, but I can already see some improvement. I'm not a vegetarian if that means anything, but I try to eat and teach a healthy diet for myself and family.

I write a blog, and in January I wrote about this being my year. I have learned that when I feel best is when I have helped others feel their's. I have given a lot of thought to what I could do that would make me feel happy, healthy, stimulated, stimulating, inspired and inspiring, and I decided one way to achieve that would be to teach something that I love.

I don't know if you were aware of this, but I have taught anatomy and physiology over the years at different institutions and enjoyed it greatly. It is intellectually stimulating and I love it when I see students really enjoying learning it, but this doesn't make me healthy or calm or feel physically improved. It would mean more to me if after teaching a class, a student would leave feeling a renewed sense of personal awareness, a calmness, physically in touch with their abilities and inabilities, etc. I guess I would want them to say to themselves, "That was a really good class. I liked her voice and what she had to share. I'm going back to that one next week to see what else I can learn about myself".

So, although getting a "weekend certificate" would be great in many ways, I'm not sure that it would benefit me in my quest for meaning and purpose. I've had the chance a couple of times to teach a yoga class when the instructor didn't show or was late. Obviously I like to teach based on my past, but I truly loved this. As you recommended I looked at the Anusara site [on the internet] and honestly, it seems a little more intense and involved than I was expecting. However, after some thought, I came to the realization, "What's the rush? I'm not going anywhere and I'm sure not getting any younger [to which my knees can attest]!". So, when is your immersion course starting?

Fondly, Bobbie

Quote of the day: What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals. Zig Ziglar

#27 Tyra and Marilyn, Size 8?

The summer between my freshman and sophomore year I interviewed to be a receptionist for an Ophthalmologist. I was told during this interview that if I got the job, I would have to wear dresses or skirts. Fast forward to shopping for those dresses and skirts. The time is 1981 and I'm on the thinner side of my weight loop. As I shopped for my office attire, I automatically went to the racks that had size 10 and/or mediums. Back then, even at my thinnest, I bought size 10. When I got married in 1991 [10 years later], I was 126 pounds and wore a size 10 wedding dress - nipped and tucked here and there, but still a size 10. Truthfully, there was no way I could have worn a size 8 without the seamstress letting it out... a lot.

Why am I telling you this? Because today, as you know, I range between 134-138 lbs. What you probably don't' know is that I wear a size 6. Don't you think that's weird? Sharing this new found knowledge with a good friend of mine, she nodded her head in agreement. This is one of the few people I know who, besides gaining pregnancy weight, pretty much maintains her size and weight from year to year. She told me that for most of her adult life she has been a size 2. However, now when she shops, she has to buy a zero.

I wonder what size Marilyn Monroe would wear today? I did a little research and discovered that she was a size 12 during her hey day. Well, if the camera puts on 10 pounds and she was a size 12, just shoot me now. I mean she was curvy and buxom, but not what we consider a size 12 in 2009. If I worked as a sales associate in Bloomingdales today and Marilyn asked my advice as to what size dress to try on, I would send her to the size 8 rack. I would also recommend a more natural shaping bra instead of the double missile launcher on her chest and also recommend that she love herself and stop looking to men to make her feel complete [but that's another babble].

Look, I understand why the designers do this. It's a psychological mind game they play with us crazy women to make us feel better about ourselves. In the end though, I guess it comes down to how you feel about yourself - without the outside influences of people or garment size. Maybe we should all be a little bit like Tyra Banks. She supposedly weighs 40 pounds more than she did when she was modeling and feels just as good and just as beautiful and just as sexy as she did then. It sounds banal, but if you know your true self, then YOUR self image should shine through and the size on the clothing tag really shouldn't matter... much.

Quote of the day: People often say that motivation doesn't last. Well, neither does bathing - that's why it is recommended daily" Zig Ziglar

#26 Street Walking

I saw this poem many years ago in a Trevose Behavior Modification monthly newsletter. I keep it pinned to the bulletin board above my desk and every once in a while I take it down and read it. This poem could be about anything. Perhaps Ms. Nelson wrote it about procrastination or drinking or smoking, but for me, it's about dieting and weight control. I don't know this author personally, but I hope that she "continues to walk down another street".

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

by Portia Nelson

-1-

I walk down the street

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I fall in

I am lost....

I am helpless

It isn't my fault

It takes forever to find a way out

-2-

I walk down the same street

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I pretend I don't see it

I fall in again

I can't believe I am in the same place

It isn't my fault

It still takes a long time to get out

-3-

I walk down the same street

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I see it there

I still fall in.... it's a habit

My eyes are open, I know where I am

It is my fault

I get out immediately

-4-

I walk down the same street

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I walk around it

-5-

I walk down another street

What I can share about my "street walking" is that although I too have found another street, I sometimes decide to take the short cut and find myself back in the hole. It's very frustrating and I get down on myself for my inability to keep to my healthy eating and exercise regime. Knowing all that I know about keeping a healthy lifestyle, I ask myself, How can you let this happen.... again? I think I finally found the right answer. I can let this happen because I'm human, and not superhuman. I recently responded to two different blogs. In one, I told the writer to stop being so hard on herself and in the other, I told the blogger that we all have good and bad days and that hopefully [when it comes to dieting] there are more good than bad. I need to take my own advice.

I am a positive person. I am a strong person. I am a hungry person. I will fall into the hole on occasion, but most of the time I know which streets to go around. However, I'm thinking that my future should have more Avenues, Lanes and Drives.....

#25 Bobbie's "Skinny" Foods

Many people know that about 8 years ago I lost 25 pounds. What a lot of people don't know is that this is the same 25 pounds I gained in 9th grade, and have since lost and gained more times then need mentioning. During my mid 20's I remember my dad once saying to me, "honey, do you really need that?". I probably gave him the "look" and told him not so nicely that I had gained and lost hundreds of pounds [those same 25 of course] without his help and that I didn't need it now. Of course he was only trying to be helpful, and there I was being an overweight defensive bitch. Obviously I knew I didn't need whatever it was that I was eating, but I wanted it anyway. So here's a photo of me around 20 years old weighing about 165. OY!!!!

It's now 2009 and I've maintained this 20-25 pound loss for almost 8 years. It hasn't been easy truthfully, but the alternative is just so abhorrent to me that I won't, will not, never ever go back to being FAT! How have I maintained this loss? Well for starters, I don't eat "diet food". Those frozen pre-packaged lite/low cal/diet meals are just too salty and I would have to drink even more water than I already do to flush all that sodium from my swollen ankles and fingers. In addition, those sugar free, fat free, diet cookies and cakes and those 100 calorie packages are just a gimmick, and it's too tempting to eat more than the allotted amount, AND most of the time they don't even taste that good. I still love to eat brownies, muffins and cookies, however instead of buying them, I make them. Here are a few of my favorite recipes [modified to reduce fat and calories] and some of my favorite products that help me maintain my weight.

Brownies

I buy Arrowhead Mills gluten free mix. I like it because it has little chocolate chips in it and because when I eat gluten free, I don't feel bloated. I follow the recipe on the box, but instead of oil, I use Natural Applesauce with no added sugar, and instead of 2 eggs I use 2 whites and one yolk. By exchanging applesauce for oil, it reduces the amount of fat from 7 grams to 1.5 grams per serving and about 70-80 calories. I also cut the brownies about the size of a packet of sugar and this way I can have two and not feel like I've gone overboard.

Quinoa muffins [gluten free]

1/2 cup of brown rice flour

1/2 cup of quinoa flakes

2 tbs of honey

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

2 very ripe bananas

2 eggs

Above is the recipe off the box of quinoa flakes. In addition, I add flax seed and whey vanilla protein powder [18 grams of protein per serving]. Because I add dry ingredients, I also need to add wet ones; about 1/2 cup all natural applesauce and water as needed. I sometimes also add raisins, cinnamon and carob chips. I don't happen to like really sweet muffins, but if you do you can add xylitol. These muffins are dense and filling . I don't make them as large as the box recommends and this way I get about 14 muffins instead of ten. Their baked muffin is 131 calories. Even though my muffins are smaller, because I add raisins, applesauce and protein powder I would say that they are about 125-135 cal. per muffin.

Peanut Butter

I love peanut butter and although I eat the all natural kind [Crazy Richard's is my favorite], it's still a lot of calories and fat. I'm going to tell you about this great product and when you first read what I'm about to tell you, you are going to think "no way". That was my reaction, but loving PB, I decided to give it a try. This product is from Bell Plantation in Tifton, Georgia [http://bellplantation.com/] and it is real peanut butter. PB2 has 85% less fat calories than regular peanut butter, but I swear it still tastes the same. The oil is squeezed out of the roasted peanuts and what you receive in the mail is a peanut butter looking container with powdered peanut butter. You just add a tablespoon of water to 2 tablespoons of PB2 and mix. You'll love it and it only has 53 calories and 1.87g of fat per a 2 tablespoon serving. I eat peanut butter guiltlessly now on my gluten free waffles, breads, and of course my red delicious apples. And guess what, I found this PB while reading someone's blog [I wish I could remember which one so that I could thank her]. See, blog reading can be fun, interesting and educational!!

Adora Calcium Supplements in Dark Chocolate

A friend told me about these and I thank her every time I pop one in my mouth. They are a little larger than a quarter and much thicker and they also come in milk chocolate, but I like [ok, LOVE] dark chocolate. Each piece is 30 calories and has 500mg of calcium plus vitamin D2 and K1. I give these out as snacks to girlfriends when they come over and I have to buy 3 bags at a time because they sell out so quickly at my local Whole Foods. Sometimes when I'm really craving chocolate, I pop one of these babies and it's totally satisfying.

Turkey Chili [serves about 4]

white meat ground turkey [or any type of turkey]

1 can of black beans [drained of fluid] - I read somewhere that beans, but especially black beans, are really good for you.

1 can of Trader Joe's tomato sauce [no added sugar]

15-20 cherry tomatoes [cut in half]

1/2 chopped onion [whatever type you like]

1 can or jar or fresh mushrooms [rinse the ones in the cans and jars]

chili powder [to taste]

red pepper and black pepper [to taste]

salt [to taste]

In a pot sprayed with Pam [or olive oil] saute onions til soft and getting brown. Add turkey. When the turkey looks like it is almost done, add the mushrooms and tomatoes stirring every few minutes. After about 4-5 minutes stir in the black beans. When their is no more raw turkey, add the tomato sauce, chili powder, peppers and salt. I keep the pot uncovered and let it simmer on low for about 20 minutes. I then cover it and turn off the stove. During this time, it gets a little watery from condensation. About 10 minutes before serving, take the cover off and cook on a medium-low flame stirring every few minutes. Serve with a salad and I promise you will be satisfied. Bon Appetite!!!

Here are just a few other items and ideas:

- if you are trying to stay away from breads, try melting a slice or two of light Jarlsburg cheese on tinfoil. It's like picking the cheese off the pizza.

- Fiber One Bars - keep them in the fridge - these taste like chewy candy bars and are only 140 calories. Have a 1/2 or whole. Oh yeah, they're called Fiber One because of they have 9 grams of fiber per serving. They will definitely help you "go".

- 'Skyr.is' Plain Yogurt - this product is from Iceland and tastes like the Greek yogurt that is so popular now. However, this 6oz serving has 22 grams of protein, zero fat grams and only 110 calories. I make this a meal by adding blueberries and/or raspberries and/or blackberries, pistachio nuts, sunflower seeds, almonds, flax, and sometimes a gluten free cereal. Just mix it all up, but remember to measure whatever you are putting in there because those calories can add up quickly.

"The body is a bundle of careful compromises" ~ Randolph Nesse and George Williams, Why We Get Sick