#38 Birthday Babble

I've recently been emailing back and forth with a cousin I haven't seen nor spoken to in a very long time. She emailed me a recent photo, and upon viewing it, I thought she looked exactly the same as the kid I remembered [photo circa 1980]. When I told her so, she wrote back that maybe she looked the same, but that she was very different from the little cousin I remember. That got me thinking. I'm turning 47 this month, actually in a few days, and I've been doing a lot of "life reviewing" and looking at how I've changed over the years -- not just the chronological physical aging, but the self assurance and confidence that comes with time going by.

Back in my early 20s, I worked in the Emergency Room. During one typical shift, I was with a team of doctors and nurses taking care of a woman who was having a very difficult time breathing. We had an oxygen mask on her while the team was busy getting an EKG, starting an IV, drawing blood, and so on. We were all working very quickly and quietly and all one could hear, besides the beeping of the monitors, was the patient saying, "oh my god", and "I can't breathe", and "help me, help me I can't get my breath". After about a minute of listening to this, I looked up from drawing her blood and said very plainly, "if you'd stop talking you'd be able to breath better". She stopped talking and of course was able to catch her breath and breathe just a little easier. I remember thinking to myself, why didn't anyone else speak up? I, the youngest and newest one there, was the one who said it. After the patient went upstairs, the attending physician came up to me and said, "good job calming that patient". Speaking my mind is something that I have always been able to do, and because of this [and maybe because of my sometimes gruff NY twang], people have always assumed that I am a confident person. Truthfully though, it's just that I am a truthful person. After telling the patient to stop talking, I questioned myself for days wondering if it had been the right thing to do, even though the doctor had commended me. The confidence didn't come to root until my 40s. I might have said what was on my mind in my earlier years, but I was never sure of myself after speaking. How do I know this? Because if someone questioned me, I would almost always doubt myself - even if I knew I was 100% correct. Now, in the latter part of my 4th decade, I can say with confidence, that when I say something, it's with confidence.

I'm the middle child. I have an older sister and younger brother, both whom I adore. I don't think we were your typical siblings growing up [we hardly ever fought] nor was I the typical middle child, except maybe for one characteristic. Middle children [it seems] are the peacemakers. I'm not so sure this was so much a part of my personality as a kid [although I hated to see anyone bullied], but as a young adult, I didn't like to see things out of sorts and so I would try to make "it all better". Over the years, peacemaker, for me, has morphed into the "giver inner" and the "lets not make waves" and the "don't hurt anyone's feelings" person. I've thought about this recently as it relates to my "food issues" and I think a lot of my EATING was due to resentment [can you relate?]. Because I didn't get what I wanted and didn't have the confidence to say what I wanted, I shoved down my feelings with food. Of course, I only had me to blame, but back then, I didn't understand me. I didn't have 40 some odd years of experience and wisdom behind me. Today, what I can easily see and readily admit about myself is that I don't really have strong opinions about a lot of things. Now when I "give in", it's because I'm not inclined either way. Don't get me wrong, I have preferences and I will speak up if I feel strongly enough, but now in my 40s I realize that if and when I really want something -- say Indian and not Chinese food -- I'll say it out loud, without fear of rocking the boat, and with the confidence of someone who knows what she wants.

And last, for this babble could go on and on, I have learned that I'm a good writer. I say this with confidence. Not because many people have told me so, but because many people have told me that I wrote how they felt, that I wrote what they couldn't say, that they were laughing so hard at the visuals, etc. I'm tempted to qualify "what a good writer is" so that I don't sound like I'm bragging, but that's the difference between being in my 40s and what I would have done in my 20s and 30s. Now, I can graciously accept a compliment without feeling undeserving. My parents [look left] told me that I could do anything I set my mind to... even though I was never really convinced. Now in my 40s, I think, why not?

And so, I'm curious. I'd like to hear from you, the reader, about changes that were obvious enough for you to realize that you had grown/matured/expanded as a person. Share by commenting on my blog [you can show your name or go anonymous] or send me an email.


Quote of the Day: Happiness is not a goal; it is a by-product ~Eleanor Roosevelt

#37 You Can't Live on a Diet

In the past week, I must have had about 5 people mention my weight or ask about my weight or comment on my weight. The common theme of their remarks was "how do you keep it off? Why can you, unlike others, stop yourself at 3 or 4 or 5 pounds gained and turn it around before it becomes 10 or 15 lbs?" This isn't the first time I've been asked these questions, nor are they questions I haven't asked other weight loss maintainers. I'm curious, too.

I recently read in a diet newsletter about the three S's: starving, stuffing and skipping. Well, you don't need to be a rocket scientist to know that starving leads to stuffing, which then leads to skipping. I could probably write a book on all three, but I think the previous sentence pretty much sums it up. I also recently saw an advertisement for a Holistic Nutritionist. Her ad must have been written by a Ph.D. psychologist specializing in people with food issues and who also happens to have an MBA in Marketing. I mean, she hit all the right buttons, and she threw in some new technology like biofeedback, partnered hypnotherapy, etc., to really draw in the desperate dieter. Her whole deal sounded really enticing, but in seconds after thinking that she/this/her program might be the answer to everlasting thinness, I hit myself on the head [the V8 kind of hit on the head]. I know the secrets to successfully losing weight. I know the secrets to maintaining your successfully lost weight. And, I know the secrets for continued success of your successfully lost weight. Here is how to be successful.

1. You really want to lose weight. I mean REALLY want to.

When I heard about Trevose Behavior Modification 8 years ago, I couldn't wait to join. I was sick and tired of feeling fat. I hated going out because that meant finding something in my closet that fit. I hated shopping for clothing because nothing covered my "dread" areas enough to make me feel secure. I was nasty and bitchy from sugar highs and lows. I was tired of dieting, losing and re-gaining. I was so ready. So desperate. So sad.

2. You need to decide how you are going to lose weight.

Is this something you think you can do alone or are you going to need a buddy or a group or special meals? I remember sitting at the computer reading about TBM with my girlfriend. She had learned about this program from her decorator who had lost a lot of weight and managed to maintain it. The program sounded wonderful, but also a bit scary. First, you had to find a group in your area that met when you were able to meet, then you had to apply and hope they had room for you. This program consisted of counting calories, mandatory weekly meetings, losing your "told" number of pounds per month, and finally keeping it off [or be asked to leave]. I wrote a letter to the leader of a group in my area and sent it off that day.

3. You need to be honest with yourself about what you are able to do, and then be ready and willing to commit to whatever program/weight loss regime you choose.

I knew that buying "special" food or doing a liquid diet wasn't going to work for me. I needed to eat normal everyday food that you buy at the supermarket. I also knew that I couldn't do this alone. I had lost and gained, lost and gained more times than I could count. It was time for group support. I admitted to myself that I needed diet police. I needed to be accountable to others because obviously being accountable to myself just wasn't working.

4. Slow and Steady Wins the Race

Of course we all want to lose 10 pounds the first week. Well, that's what almost happened when I finally started Trevose. I lost 6 1/2 pounds my first week. How? I cut my calories down to nothing. The group leaders told me that I needed to eat the calories they had calculated for me [weight x 12 - 500] to lose weight or this program wasn't going to work. I followed their directions and sadly, gained some weight back during the second week. By the third week, I had gotten the hang of it and by the end of the month I had lost the 3 pounds I was told to. I was continuously reminded by the group members that I needed to look at this program as a way of life, not a diet. This is probably the essence of maintenance. You can't live on a diet.

5. Keep a Journal

Writing down what you eat after you've eaten it is the only way to really know what you have put in your pie hole for the day. I can't tell you how many times I forgot [or was just too lazy] to write down my day's intake, and by the next day I couldn't remember dinner let alone the meals and snacks eaten earlier in the day. Mindless eating is not something that works when you are trying to lose weight. To be honest, I sometimes resent having to write down all the food I eat. However, 8 years later I'm still maintaining. The friends that started with me, and many people who have started and left over the years, left because either they thought they could do it on their own or [the majority] they were just plain old tried of having to keep a journal and go to meetings. Many have gained back their weight - plus some. Some have been successful, but most are on the loss/gain roller coaster. This goes back to #3, Commitment.

Last, but so not least......................

6. WATER!!!! This is the mother of secrets. TRUST ME. Growing up, I never drank water. Ever! I lived on milk, orange juice and cans of TAB diet soda. I swear. It wasn't until my early 30's that I started drinking water. A friend bet me $5 that if I drank 6-8 glasses of water a day, I could lose close to 10 pounds in 7 days. I was desperate to lose and so I took her on. I didn't lose 10 pounds, but I did lose 5 and that was with eating normally, not dieting. I shared this secret with my mom a few years later and she decided to try it. Well, she couldn't go anywhere that didn't have a bathroom nor did she feel safe on long car rides, but she was successful in losing weight. Another plus to all this water drinking is that it helps reduce my ankle edema. A friend once said to me that when the body is dehydrated, it holds onto fluid and the best way to get rid of that extra fluid is to hydrate your body. Perhaps a little compulsively, I keep a bottle of water in my car, on my night stand, and on my desk. I know where all [best and worst] the bathrooms are in every store and restaurant in my neighborhood.

So, what I am sharing with you readers [and please share this with others who you think this would help] is that losing weight and maintaining isn't a secret. It's really and truly about being emotionally ready, honest about what you can handle, and making the commitment to yourself [or a higher power or a group or your children or whomever] that the time is now.

There is no secret!!! I swear!!

Quote of the Day: "It's kind of fun to do the impossible" Walt Disney

#36 Life Lessons

During my fairly strenuous and serious 90" Anusara yoga classes, lessons are learned with grace and sometimes a giggle. At first, the laughter surprised me, but I soon realized that what is experienced and learned in yoga, are life lessons to be lived outside of the classroom too. Below, I want to share some of the amazing lessons I've learned so far, and I've thrown in a giggle or two to keep it real.

See The Good First

I learned this on my first day of class. The instructor asked for a volunteer to stand in the front of the room and then asked us what we saw. One person commented on the fact that one shoulder seemed lower than the other and another student pointed out that her feet were not hip width apart. The instructor then explained to the class that when you teach Anusara yoga, you should always see the good first. She said things like, look at how nice she looks in her yoga "outfit", and look at how firm and strong her arms are. As she continued sharing the volunteer's other positive attributes, she was gently easing her into the "correct" alignment. The lesson: see the good first and then with kindness, an open heart and a gentle hand, help the other person become "aligned". I left that 5 hour class having learned so much, but this lesson has really stayed with me. I find that now before allowing my inner judge to jump right in, I try to take those first moments to see the good, especially when judging myself. I also try to do this with my kids. I try to gently nudge and direct them before I start yelling and screaming. I'm told yoga is a process. So is parenting.

Celebration of the Heart

Poses in Anusara yoga are heart-oriented. This means that the poses are expressed from the inside out. When moving into and staying in a pose, the energy should come from inside [your intention, your attitude and your heart/desire] and not from pushing and moving your muscles to make them do your bidding. In Anusara yoga [the lesson] attitude is always more important than performance, strength or flexibility. Consciously breathing into the pose, letting go of those controlling thoughts and stretching your limbs is a wonderful sensation. When you've attained the pose and are in perfect alignment, and can breath easily, it's like winning the 100 yard dash. As for both yoga and the run, it's more about the enjoyment of getting there, then the actual winning of the race. It's like that saying: 'it's not the destination, it's about the journey'. This opening of your heart works wonders too when your destination is Florida, but you can't begin your journey because foul weather has postponed your flight for the 2nd time in 4 hours. Open your heart and breath.

Willpower

Intertwined with one's attitude and intention in yoga is willpower. In Anusara yoga, willpower is defined as that balance between the ability to surrender and self effort. How many times have we cursed ourselves for our lack of willpower? For me, there were years of going to bed berating myself for not being able to stay on my diet, for not staying in control. If we look at this definition, however, willpower is so much more than controlling one's behavior. It is the blending of two totally different actions whose outcome [the lesson] allows for the ability to be able to carry out one's wishes, plans or decisions. Isn't this what we all want to do? It seems that whenever I am in control of my eating, it's the combination of knowing that this is good for me [the surrender] as well as having the right foods in my house and making the right decisions when out of the house [self effort]. Of course willpower shmillpower. If there was a magic pill, don't think I wouldn't be the first in line!

Good Yoga Teachers

I read in the Anusara teaching manual that a good yoga teacher will have [the lesson] a soft heart, a sharp mind and a vibrant body. This too is something that I would like to attain outside the yoga studio. Being tender in the way you interact with people makes them feel good. We all know that making someone feel good, giving charity, helping out a friend ALWAYS makes the giver feel just as good as the receiver. As for the sharp mind, I've been working on that [a la blog 29, Exercise Boosted by Aging]. Learning yoga and the Sanskrit words and prayers is very brain stimulating. I also continue to do my crossword puzzles, but now I stop to look up words when I don't know them. However, that vibrant body thing is an illusive concept. Sometimes I feel vibrant and healthy and thin, and other times, not. I believe this is felt by all women nearing 50 with hormones running amok; body, bones and skin doing things beyond our control, and gray hair growing in places that, well, the sun don't shine [as I've been told of course]. Perhaps the word zesty....

As a yoga class begins, you state your intention in your heart for "that" time. This is important, but so too is the end of class. At the end of each class we lay on our mats, close our eyes, and relax into stillness. It is in this pose, Savasana, the corpse pose, that we draw inside and put our bodies at ease and allow thoughts to float in and out without judgement nor reaction. I am sure that these lessons will make me better at yoga, but [the lesson] I hope too that they make me a better person. So, after 90" of handstands, almost near splits and holding my body in positions that 10 year olds do without blinking an eye, I consider this my favorite pose.

Shanti

Quote of the day: "The ultimate result of shiedling men from the effects of folly is to fill the world with fools" Herbert Spencer, English Philosopher

#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!