#57 Dharma Schmarma

Sometimes kids say the smartest things...

During the 3 hour car ride to camp visiting day, I usually sleep and/or read. However, this year, we had company. One of Erica's friends, 15 year old Sam was hitching a ride to visit with his old camp mates, and another mom (visiting her daughter) were with us. Because I had a captive audience, I decided to read the babble that I was working on (#56 Smart Vaginas don't Cut Through Dark Alleys). Sam, other mom, and my husband all had some interesting things to say, but it was 15 year old Sam that made me stop and do a double think.

As we approached the noon hour, we talked about stopping for lunch. Sam told us that he's a healthy eater. I asked him if he eats this way because his parents are healthy eaters or because this is what he chooses. He told us that when he eats healthy, he feels good and looks good. Then he said to me, it's kinda like your babble. He was referring to the part about using the analytical side of the brain and not the emotional side. He continued by explaining that in choosing what to eat, he uses the analytical side of his brain because if he let the emotional side make his choices, he'd probably make a lot of unhealthy ones.

All righty then. Since this conversation took place around noon on Friday, I decided I had all weekend to test his method, or in other words, to see if I could make non-emotionally based eating decisions. I'll tell you right now, I failed. At every meal I started out with the best intentions, but sooner or later, I made non-analytical ones when I saw something that I wanted. I mean, who can pass up institution-style vanilla pudding? Obviously, not me!!

Each morning, I started out with my usual breakfast - my homemade quinoa muffin, PBII peanut butter (only 53 calories per 2 tbs) and a cup of decaf with a little half and half. By lunch, I was dipping my fingers into the bowl of potato chips, drooling over the assortment of peanut butter and jellies, and with something akin to lust, eyeing the amazing looking and smelling bouquet of breads. Oy, so many why nots, what ifs, and what the hells were silently argued in my head. If this was a real battle, and not one of my weak willpower, I'd be Bobbie Sue black and blue.

Recently, I read in a blog (http://www.refusetoregain.com/) that the little voice in our head that says, I really want that chocolate cake, or I can't run another mile, is really the emotional side of the brain trying to take care of you, protect you, feed you. The blogger, a doctor who treats overweight people said, if you can push that voice away and tell yourself something that makes you think logically, non-emotionally, then you are a step closer to getting what you really want... that thin healthy body or another mile under your belt. Martha Beck, a well known life coach and author, says the fight between your cyber brain (analytic) and your beastie brain (emotion) will always be won by the more primitive beastie brain. She says you need to stop fighting your body's nature (wanting to stay nourished when it feels like your depriving it) and instead, develop a "normal relationship" with food. From her mouth to my brain.

Reading my Yoga ezine the other day, I learned about dharma. Dharma is "the path you follow towards the highest expression of your own nature - and towards the fulfillment of your responsibilities to yourself, to others, to your society, and to the planet". Although this word can actually have many meanings, the writer says that for most people, your personal dharma really asks, "What is the right thing for me to do now?". She also writes that conflicts we experience with our dharma can sometimes be the clash between our desires and competing responsibilities. Pertaining to this blog, I see this clash as me wanting something sweet and carby vs being responsible to my body by choosing something healthy. Needles to say, the emotional side of my brain says: Dharma schmarma.

Sunday morning arrives and visiting weekend is over. We check out of our hotel and head back to camp to bring Erica home. Once there, we load the car, collect Sam from the boy's camp, prod Erica and Sam along as they hug, kiss and cry their way to the parking lot, and finally off we drive. Around noon, we pass through this quaint little town and decide to stop for lunch. We find the town diner and as we walk in, I smell pancakes, or maybe it's waffles. Sam orders first and I hear him ask for an egg white omelet with cheese, mushrooms and wheat toast. I can't order waffles or pancakes now, so I decide to let my analytical brain do the ordering.... until the waitress asks, "do you want toast or a bagel with your scrambled egg whites?". The emotional side took over and the calculator that lives in my head added 250 more calories to my weekend's tally.

Sometimes adults do the stupidest things...

Quote of the Day: "No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted"
Aesop (620 BC - 560 BC), The Lion and the Mouse

#56 Smart Vaginas Don't Cut Through Dark Alleys

Sitting at an outdoor cafe this evening, I told some friends a story. This story took place in Washington DC, back in the 90's during a date with my boyfriend [now my husband]. The story went like this: My honey and I were on our way to theater when he recommended that we save time by cutting through an alley. I looked at him and said, "I have a vagina". He started laughing and asked me what that meant. I told him smart vaginas don't cut through dark alleys. He took my hand, and still laughing said that he and my vagina needed to pick up the pace if we were going to get to the show on time.

My friends were laughing at the sillyness of this, but the seriousness of the story was definitely understood. In the book, Burnt Toast by Terri Hatcher, she writes that for most of her life, until pretty recently, she was ruled by fear. I can't empathize with her, but I know for a fact that I haven't done, gone nor experienced many things because of fear.

In my experience, life provides examples of situations where one learns to fear where there was no fear before. I learned about dark alleys through such an experience. I used to go to the movies by myself before my night shift in the emergency room. It was during one of these night shifts though that the decision to end my solo movie jaunts was made. While suturing a trauma patient's wounds, she told me that she was attacked on her way home from her friend's apartment [something she had done many times before]. She was hit on the back of the head, pulled behind a dumpster in an alleyway, and threatened with a knife. With a gash to her head and blood dripping into her eyes, she said she fought like crazy because she knew that she was going to be raped and/or killed. Thankfully the assault was interrupted by a group of college kids who heard the scuffling and struggling noises and were nosy enough to do a look-see. Later, while writing up her chart, I saw on the police report that she was attacked one block from "my" movie theater. Reading that report made me realize that I could have possibly been the one being sutured. Since then, evening movies alone are not on my to do list.

This brings me to handstands. In Anusara yoga, inversions [handstands, shoulder stands, headstands] are part of almost every class. The first time I heard that we were going to do handstands, I didn't join in. I watched. I was scared. Actually, I was petrified. I couldn't think logically about this new asana [posture]. Forget the fear of falling, in my mind, I was so scared I thought I could potentially die. It was after seeing people in their 50s and 60s do this pose that I decided not to let fear make this decision for me. It took a few more classes to find the guts, but the day came when I decided I was ready. I listened to the rules of handstands; I put my hands flat on the mat, looked up between my arms, put my shoulders on my back, walked my legs as close to my body as I could, lifted my right leg and pushed off. Ouch!! I fell and hit my shoulder and elbow on the floor. Long story short, I was even more scared the second, third, and fourth times, but I persevered and finally got my legs above my head. What a feeling; what an accomplishment.

While writing this babble, I reviewed times in my life that I didn't let fear stop me as well as those times that I allowed fear to win. This is what I can share --the next time you stop yourself from doing something because of fear, remember my story. I'm not advocating bungee jumping, or cliff diving, or walking on dark streets alone, or finally calling "that" guy, but whatever it is that you are scared of doing, weigh the risks [dark alley or the long way], and decide with the analytical side of your brain and not the emotional side. Believe me, overcoming fear builds one's self confidence, helps you grow emotionally, and shows you that you are capable of more than you think. Next on my list, jumping off the highboard at the swim club. Yikes!

Quote of the Day: "The mode by which inevitable comes to pass is effort" Oliver Wendell Holmes

#55 Sad, Sad, Sad and Angry!

My good friend Perry died today. It wasn't expected. I am so sad, sad, sad, and angry. Angry because I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. What's even more upsetting is that 3 days ago, I sent myself an email reminding me to call a few people I haven't spoken to in a couple of months. I got to a few, but not Perry. Why is it that we remember to call people when we are in the shower, or at the movies, or when it's 10:30 at night?

This is the second time something like this has happened to me. A couple of years ago, the husband of a coworker called to tell me that his wife, my friend, had died. I had just spoken to her in April and all was well, she was in remission. This phone call came at the end of May. I wanted to ask why he hadn't called me sooner, like when he knew she was dying? I was so sad, sad, sad, and angry. Angry because I didn't get to say goodbye. Looking back, I can see that during her last weeks, calling Bobbie was probably the farthest thing from their minds, but how I wish they had. I went to the funeral to say goodbye, but I have to admit, it made me feel no better.

In the past couple of years, I've really tried to stay in touch with people without letting too much time slip by. This needing to stay connected started about three years ago when weeks after the fact, I learned that a friend's father had died. It was around Thanksgiving -- when everyone was busy getting ready to travel or getting ready to cook that big meal for incoming family and out-of-towners. Life gets hectic and we focus on ourselves and our needs. Before we know it, weeks have gone by. And, I don't mean keeping in touch with just out of town friends, I mean the friends around the corner or even next door. Sometimes, weeks can go by without my speaking or even seeing my neighbors.

There are a number of friends of mine who I speak to or see maybe twice a year. It seems, in these relationships, I am responsible for calling or initiating an email. Years ago, I wondered if they still wanted to be my friend. Yet whenever I call, they are always happy to talk and it feels like no time has gone by. Sometimes I resent my job as caller and think, if they are my friend, they will call me. I've tried, on occasion, to wait out their calls, but soon, I begin to worry and end up calling them. It's not like we haven't talked about this, my non-caller friends and me, we have. There are no hard feelings; we understand each other. I accept my "job" and realize that we are mutually happy just to be connecting and sharing.

I guess that's what having great friends is all about. The give and take is mutual, but the contributions are different. Perry was a wonderful, kind and generous man, a master carpenter, and a sweet, tender-hearted friend. My old house, with new moldings that he matched up to the 200 year old ones, the 3 room master suite he built with his son during their summer break, the master bed that he copied from a magazine photo I gave him, the walls that no longer weep mold, the beautifully crafted shelves and furniture, and the venison he shared with us after his hunting weekends are all a testament to this wonderful man and his talents. However, his talented hands couldn't compare to the abundance of his heart. Perry was an angel, and if he treated all his clients and friends the way he treated me and my family, then they were as blessed as I.

So hear me out my friends, I will continue to call and check in because I don't want to ever have to say again --- I was sad, sad, sad, and angry because I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.


Quote of the Day: "Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst" Walter Weckler

#54 Bobbie's Buxom Blues

In the Oprah Magazine, there is one page that is dedicated to a famous person's Aha! moment. I'm dedicating this page to mine.

The background
I am in high school. My boyfriend of one year is going off to college. As far as I know, we are still dating. When I hear he is back home visiting, I wait for him to call. He never does. I find out through his friends that we are no longer an item. I spend a lot of time alone, and a lot of alone time eating. I feel abandoned and go to food for comfort -- no talking to someone, no alcohol, no drugs, no shopping -- just lots of comfort eating . During this time, I am also developing physically [at an exponential rate] and find that the attention my body attracts makes me uncomfortable. I start getting heavy and notice this causes less attention to be directed my way. I have learned to cover my new curves with blubber.

The Middle Time
These are the school years. Throughout high school, college and graduate school, I gain and lose, gain and lose depending on my confidence. If I start losing weight and get the right kind attention, I continue to lose and feel good. If, on the other hand, I feel the attention I am receiving is solely based on my body and am uncomfortable with the feelings that this evokes, I start eating to cover my [what I see as my] sexiness. Up and down I go. It doesn't matter if I have a boyfriend or not, the weight goes on and off. And to make matters even more disturbing, I never share with anyone why I gain and lose because for some reason, I believe it is all my fault. I believe that I must be doing something that attracts the more lascivious and lewd than decent and chaste attention.

Nearing my Aha!
I am a graduate of The George Washington University's undergraduate and graduate schools. I am 39, married and the mother of two young children. I am the Administrative Director for the Emergency Department at The Albert Einstein Medical Center in Philadelphia. Over the past 6 months, I have lost 25 pounds. I am walking up the stairs of an outside pavilion heading into our local supermarket. I hear a car honk. I turn to look thinking it's someone I know saying hello. In the car, there are guys whistling and hooting at me. I turn around and walk into the supermarket. All I can think about is shoving food [lots of it] into my mouth. Later that night, I share this with my husband.

My Aha!
I tell my husband how having those boys/guys/men honk at me brings back all those feelings that I thought were long gone. I tell him that perhaps I was dressed too provocatively [I was wearing black capris, a white t-shirt and sandals]. I give him more reasons for why I attract "this" kind of attention. I can go on and on with self blame, but he stops me. He says, [not in these exact words, but how I wish I could remember them] you are not some young over-budding pubescent teenager anymore. He says, you have a graduate degree and are the administrative director for a busy city emergency room. He says, you are a mother, a wife and a wonderful friend. He says, you have great siblings and parents. He says, you have bought and furnished [on a shoe-string budget] a 250 year old money pit while working full time in the ER. He says, you are an intelligent, fun and loving wife and a fantastic mother. I think I see sparks in front of my eyes. So this is what an epiphany is like I think - this eye opener of great magnitude. I realize that everything he has just said about me, I knew, but I had never stopped and given me the credit for achieving, having, doing and becoming all those things. I can't tell you how it felt, but I can give you the visual.... it is like the weight of an elephant being slowly lifted off one's back. This weight, a physical and emotional one, is suddenly gone ----- just like that.

It's been close to 8 years since that discussion and not once have I felt the need to eat to hide me. Now at 47, the hoots, horn honking and whistlers come fewer and more far between, but on the rare occasion when it does happen, I just smile, take a deep breath, and feel really good.

Quote of the Day: "Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life" Sophia Loren

#53 Oy Chew-wawa

I just finished reading Elizabeth Hasselbeck's book, The G-Free Diet. It's about her years of stomach upset and discovering her intolerance to gluten. She has Celiac Disease, and her case is so extreme that she has to be very careful that no flour, wheat, barley, oats and rye get into her diet. I'm not going to go in depth about what she wrote, but she did say something that I thought was very smart and caught my attention. I'll paraphrase: you can't remove things from your diet; you need to replace them. We dieters know this very well. The minute we take away or deny ourselves something without finding a substitute, that's the beginning of the end.

Here's a perfect example, A friend of mine has been a member of Food Addicts Anonymous for years. I'll let you know you this up front, this program does not replace what it takes away. Members of FAA follow the AA [Alcoholics Anonymous] rules, except, in place of alcohol, they cut out all white flour products and sugar. From years of experience as a "user", I can say with great authority that sugar is a drug. I crave it, I love it, and when I "do too much" of it, I get bitchy and tired, and of course worst of all, crave more. However, just to see if I could, I decided to cut out both sugar and white flour. I allowed myself the freedom of no time limit, or as AA, OA, FAA recite, just one day at a time. Day one, no prob. Day two, no problema. Day three, oy chew-wawa!!! I went through major withdrawal or detox or whatever you want to call it. I was craving something sweet all day; I was nauseated, shaky and so tired all I wanted to do was lie down. On day 4, I was a normal person again. All in all, I was able to stay off white flour and sugar for 10 days. I lost a couple of pounds and felt great. However, like Elizabeth wrote, when you deny and don't replace, you're going to have trouble in the long run. On day eleven I went to one of my favorite restaurants, Blue Sage, and had my favorite sandwich -- the Farmhouse Cubano [roasted eggplant, melted brie, tomato preserve and garlic aioli on grilled focaccia]. I truly believed that I would be able to enjoy this meal, be "clean" for the rest of the day, as well as start the following day flour and sugar free. I am sure members of FAA, AA, OA and, any other addiction group acronyms, are laughing at me right about now. After that lunch, the rest of the day was pure torture; I was exhausted and craving sweets. I came to the conclusion that I just didn't have the fortitude, discipline, self control nor the desire to do without flour or sugar any longer. But truly, most of all, I just didn't want to stop eating those things with sugar and white flour. Alas, at 47, I want what I want.

On another note, I was having a really interesting discussion with a friend's husband over the 4th of July about targeting different body parts for weight loss as well as building lean muscle. He was telling me about an exercise program [The PX90] that he swears made a big difference in his physique. He went on to say that when he's biking, eating healthy, toning his body and feeling good, he wants to continue to feel, be and look that way. I came right out and asked him if he ever sabotaged himself. He sort of tilted his head [you know, the way dogs do when they are trying to understand what you are saying] and gave me a blank look. I told him that I too love to work out and eat healthy. I love the way I look and feel when all is working as it should, but sometimes I feel so good and like the way I look so much, that I get a big head and think, one double scoop, hot fudge sundae with whipped cream won't hurt. He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "No, I don't ever feel the desire to do that". Can you believe him? What a weirdo!!

There's no major lesson to end this babble. There is some personal insight though. I am truly glad that my addiction [if this is one] is to food and not alcohol or drugs. What I have learned in my years of dieting, gaining, losing and maintaining is that what's most important, for me, is self control -- a kind of leniency with a firm hand. And although I think I am a strong person, 10 days does not make a recovered addict. Over the years, it's become more apparent that although I want to be thin, what I want more is to be healthy. I'm fine when I know that I can have some ice cream [the real kind] every once in a while, and if I want bread, I try to eat stoned ground or gluten free brands because at least I know I'm eating healthy. And that's the crux - you need to find what works... for YOU.

Quote of the Day: "The greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances" Martha Washington

#52 The Game of Love

I was talking with my sister the other day about the game of love... tennis that is. She was telling me that one day after tennis clinic, she and her partner [let's call her Serena] talked about their games. Serena reviewed her own game telling my sister how she loved her new serve, that her forehand was really strong in the second set, and how her footwork was helping her game a lot. After playing in a clinic or a match, my sister would review and lament her mistakes instead of looking at all the good and right things she did. When she told this to Serena, Serena said that when she makes an error, she knows exactly what she's done wrong, tries to work on it right away, and doesn't dwell on it. Rather, she tries to remember what she did right so that she can do it again and again. What a concept, huh?

Why is it that we tend to hone in on all the bad and wrong things we say, do, and experience instead of the positive? To illustrate, I have somewhat thick, straight hair. No matter the weather, it is always straight. I know people who would kill for my hair, and yet, I hate my hair because when I curl it, 2 hours later it's uncurled. An acquaintance has the most beautiful cheek bones and facial structure, yet all she can see are her big ears, and I have a friend who is very smart, yet never feels that she sounds intelligent when she speaks. It's sad that we don't recognize the positives in ourselves as easily as we see them in others. After my sister told me her tennis story, I have really been making an effort to see me and what I do, and say, and experience in a more positive way.

Talking about the game of love, seeing the positive rather than the negative in our love relationships is also really important. After being with someone for an extended period of time, we start to expect the same responses. It's like when I hit a short cross court forehand to my husband, I know he is going to hit a low deep return to my back hand. I set myself up for this -- losing the point. I know what I did wrong and should not to repeat it. BINGO!! LIGHT BULB!!

I am that someone in the game of love. I am that someone I've been involved with for an extended period of time. I am that someone who expects the same responses over and over. With all my successes, I continue to do things that set me up to fail. In dealing with my bane [food], I do this too. If I know that eating pretzels will most likely trigger a desire for something sweet, then I need to hit a backhand slice down the line instead of the cross court shot to the forehand, i.e. stay away from the pretzels. Instead of dwelling on falling off the wagon and/or bemoaning my own "bad game", I need to allow myself to see all my positives, review them and do them over and over.
We all need to be more like Serena -- see the negative, deal with it, but don't dwell on it. Then, we need to take all the positives like how long we've maintained our goal weight, or how many miles more we can now walk, run or bike or how I am finally able to hit a deep forehand down the center of the court instead of where my husband can kill the return. How about allowing ourselves to see and enjoy the positive - review what we have done that has worked - and do it again and again.

You know the saying, "It's not if you win or lose, but how you play the game"? Honestly, I don't care if I win or lose in tennis, but in the game of self-improvement, I for one, want to be a winner. Here's my strategy: to win the game use positive reinforcement; to win the set, adopt new habits when old ones don't "serve" you, and to win the match, practice unconditional self-love -- again and again.

...And if all else fails, buy a new tennis racket.

#51 Botox and Feet-Binding

Julianne Moore, known for wanting to age gracefully, said in an interview that she uses the analogy of feet-binding when discussing plastic surgery. She says, "I feel we have decided that being expressionless and young-looking is the most beautiful thing.” Yeah, her point? What's wrong with wanting to look youthful, or beautiful? Don't we all want to FEEL youthful? Isn't there a saying that says "youth is wasted on the young"? Looking youthful and/or beautiful is a positive thing. I think the problems begin, as with anything, when it goes to the extreme -- when it gets weird, dangerous, disfiguring. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then who is The Beholder? Who decides what is beautiful?

During the school year, my son came home from his world civ. class and told me that he learned that Chinese women used to bind their feet. All in the name of beauty, I said. He looked at me like I was crazy, but I told him it's true. Women have been known to do some extreme things to feel and look beautiful. For centuries women of all cultures, colors and religions have been primping, pulling, nipping, tucking, expanding, cutting and shaving body parts all in the name of beauty. I told him he just had to look in any fashion magazine to see today's modern foot binding -- a young model wearing 5 inch stilettos with a 20 degree angle pointed toe.We women [ok, not all women] do get pretty crazy when it comes to beauty...

I love my Spanks!! I love that my spanks give me a smooth silhouette and suck me in on all sides, but I also love that my spanks don't disfigure me nor make me want to faint. Where did this modern marvel come from? From corsets of course. Corsets have been around since before 1700 BC. Cave pictures were discovered depicting women wearing bodices [probably made from animal hides] and stone dolls were discovered adorned in corsets made from hides and feathers. Corsets were used not only for beauty, but for flaunting status and wealth. Over the centuries, corsets went from animal hides to iron [1556]; from iron to wood, ivory and metal in the 17th century, and to whale bone that was so rigid that it worried the medical professionals of the 18th century. Women's diaphrams were known to become disfigured from cincing the bodice too tight [13" waists were required in the French court of Catherine de Midici] and fainting spells were not uncommon. During the 1920s, the freedom of the "flapper dresses" made wearing corsets a thing of the past, and it was only due to Madonna bringing them back [as outer-wear] in the 1980s that they came back into vogue.

Only Brooke Sheilds made thick eyebrows look good. The rest of us wax and tweeze them into shape. Well, not all of us. Joan Crawford used to rub hers with yellow vaseline and castor oil and brush them the wrong way every night to make them grow. In a biography on Bette Davis, the author quotes her as saying [about Crawford] that, "those eyebrows wound up looking like African caterpillars".

The pompadour went out of style, thankfully. This hairstyle and all that went with it sounds almost as debilitating and painful as feetbinding. During the 18th century, a woman's real hair and some fake hair were piled high on top of the head, sometimes 2 feet. Because it took so long to create this "do", women didn't wash their hair for a week, at the least. Sanitation was still not a "modern" convenience" nor was hygiene a daily practice and because of this, women in their beautiful silk and satin layered dresses would douse themselves with perfumes and toilet water to mask their "aromas". However, not only did their bodies smell, but their hair began to have its own distinct odor. Another problem with the pompadour was that it was so heavy that it caused major neck pain and headaches, and because it was washed infrequently, lice found themselves a home. Interestingly, both the pain and the lice became acceptable parts of the life of an 18th century woman of means. These women also used Belladona [from a poisonous plant] to enlarge their pupils so as to make them more attractive. I think it's just plain safer and easier to choose a restaurant with dim lighting -- dim lighting causes the pupils to enlarge. Voila! Beauty!

Just the other day I took my 13 year old for a bikini wax before she went off to camp. She was asked if she wanted "a Brazilian". A Brazilian bikini wax entails ripping out the hair from your pubis, vulva, and around your anus, thus leaving you a thin, short "landing strip". You should have seen my daughter's eyes when this was explained to her [no Belladona needed here]. "Nope", she said, "just a snip and tuck please"... bless her heart!! However, I'm not holding my breath. Who knows if in a couple of years having no pubic hair will be considered the standard of beauty?

And last, for the most ridiculous if not the most ditsy way to look sexy, Marilyn Monroe purposefully had the heals on her stilettos cut so that one was shorter than the other. Why, you wonder? She found that by doing this, she swayed and sashayed more. This, she believed, and perhaps it was true, increased her sex appeal by making her look more vulnerable. Good Grief!

My friends and family will tell you that I'm all for feeling youthful and beautiful, well at least trying to feel them. Many of the strange things you just read above were styles of the times. We can look back and have our opinions or make our judgments, but people 100 years from now may look back and think that the way we colored our hair or perhaps that we even colored our hair was a disgusting and barbarous thing to do. Dare I go blond again?

Quote of the Day --"My mother said I must always be intolerant of ignorance, but understanding of illiteracy. That some people, unable to go to school, were more educated and more intelligent than college professors" -- Maya Angelou

#50 The Gates of Speech

When my son was about 8 years old, I told a lie. It was a white lie, but boy did it snowball. I was supposed to take my son and his friend to a birthday party. It wasn't until I received a phone call from the boy's mom that I realized I had not only forgotten to pick up her son, I had forgotten about the party. It would have been so easy to tell her the truth, that I had forgotten about the party and would be over in a second to pick up her son, but I didn't say this because when the boys were in kindergarten I had left them stranded at school because I had forgotten it was my turn to drive. See, my record wasn't pearly white with this family and I lied so that they wouldn't think that forgetting [specifically their child] was my norm. We each ended up taking our own children to the party, and when I received a call from the mom later on saying she would bring the boys home, I was happily surprised -- thank goodness, no hard feelings. You're thinking end of story, right? Wrong. This is where my nightmare begins, but also a life transforming moment.

To continue the story - My son gets dropped off after the party and I ask him if everything was ok on the ride home. He says, "yeah, I told them the truth". I nervously looked at him and said, "what truth?". He said, "I told them that you lied". Oh--my--goodness, my 8 year old outed me!!! I was so angry and embarrassed and humiliated and did I say angry already? I started yelling at him and telling him he had a big mouth [which is sorta true] and so on and so on. My husband came into the room, asked what was going on, and intervened by saying that Logan had told the truth and isn't that what we want from our children? Ok, that penetrated, which made me stop my tirade and apologize. The next morning when I was feeling no better, but calmer, I explained to Logan what a white lie was and how because of this experience, I would never again tell one. I quoted the saying, "oh what a tangled web we weave when we first practice to deceive", and explained what it meant. I apologized to him again and that was the end of that....well sort of. Most people grow up using white lies so as not to hurt the feelings of others, but whenever I think of telling one, I remind myself of the above experience and the shame I felt -- so ashamed that I lost my appetite for days. Losing my appetite is something that I had never experienced before, nor since.

Oh, I wish I knew then what I know now. During one of my yoga classes, my ears perked up when I heard my instructor talk about mindful speaking. While we moved from pose to pose, she shared The Gates of Speech with us. She started by telling us that being aware of what we say and how we say things are equally important. By asking ourselves if what we are saying is truthful, kind, necessary, and timely, we learn to "really" think before speaking.

I think the Gates of Speech is a powerful tool. Since the focus of my blog is: "thoughts on life, living and and the pursuit of the perfect body," and of course mindful eating, " I thought I would try to ask these 4 questions as they relate to these topics.

1. Is this true hunger?

2. Are you being kind to yourself by eating this particular food?

3. Is eating this particular food necessary?

4. Do you need to eat this particular food right now?

I've been known to be a little impulsive when it comes to speaking. Training myself to pause and go through the gates of speech is something I want to incorporate into my life. Being a compulsive eater, I will also incorporate those 4 questions above -- my own 'Gates of Eat' into my life.

This may seem difficult or daunting, but when did self improvement and/or personal growth become easy? Even baby steps hurt when you fall on your rump. So, I say to you and me: Be aware of what goes in your mouth and what comes out. Install a comfortable, but sturdy set of gates, and remember to close them for your own protection.

Quote of the day: "A mistake is simply another way of doing things" Katherine Graham