It's The Diet War, And I'm The General

I recently had to write a brief autobiography (for a class I'm taking) which was to include my "hobbies and interests." Hmmm.

There's always a silent war going on in my storage areas as yesterday's hobbies battle for space. The watercolor stuff seems to be winning by sheer mass since film cameras and lenses gave way to tiny digitals. Those quilting and knitting needles can be vicious, though, and the jewelry tools fight dirty. My autobiography was stuck on a blank screen. Which hobby to choose?

Well, hell. Of course.

Move over, Richard Simmons, Atkins and South Beach, I am the world's greatest diet expert. Seriously. I claim this title since I've been on a diet of one kind or another since day two of my life, and certainly every Monday and every January 1.

There have been years I've looked good (with pictures to prove it) and years you'd think I'd swallowed Rosanne. My closets aren't organized by season or color, but by size, and I swear loudly at the smallest sizes every time I open the door. I know, that's unfair. It's not their fault I'm half potato-dumpling Lithuanian and half American pie. Still, damn those jeans and damn these genes!

Middle-age doesn't mean the years bracketed by youth and retirement -- it refers to the age when your body envies the Earth's equator so much it expands your middle to match.

Before my estrogen factory, the slut, ran off with my metabolism to South America, it was a piece of cake (ha) to drop 20 pounds. Just a little effort and a switch to all veggies and there I was, shopping in the petite department again.

Well, those were the good old days! I've apparently starved my poor self so rigidly and so often that it's convinced I am in the midst of a biblical famine, and by God (ha), it's not giving up one ounce, no matter what I do.

I'm the poster child for good eating, by the way. Veggies are at the bottom of my pyramid and top of my list, and my grocery cart and pantry would pass Oprah's inspection. I allow myself one fast food hamburger A YEAR. I eat pizza ONLY on Halloween night. Cake and ice cream -- ONLY at family birthday parties. Everything I buy is fat-free or "light", and I can tell you correct portion size and calorie content of every food.

(I'll hedge on that fat-free stuff. In France, I ate real butter, only because I didn't know the French phrasing for the "solid yellow vegetable oil that's too hard to spread and tastes like shit." No wonder I love France. )

I've been slimmed by Slim-Fast, watched by Weight Watchers, and become lean with Lean Cuisine. Hoodia worked for a week, Dexatrim trimmed my butt but did weird things to my eyes, and Jenny and I haven't spoken in years. When it comes to diet programs, I own the copyright on "Been There, Done That."

Yes, Yes, I exercise. I've sweated to the oldies with Richard Simmons, although my mom taught me it's not polite to sweat. I also spiraled into a three-week depression when I realized I'm just too uncoordinated (those Lithuanian genes again) to follow those maniacs on aerobics videos. Besides, those women are aliens from another planet, I know they are. NO HUMAN looks and moves like that.

Hypnosis works, if you can find a hypnotherapist whose voice doesn't give you the creepy crawlies. I like this program and this program. Serious weight loss starts as a mind game, and hypnosis can give you the edge.

Anyway, here are my axioms after a lifetime in the fat bank, making deposits and withdrawals:

• You have to stay on a diet longer than 2 days in a row.
• Food counts, even if no one is watching you eat it.
• Serving size matters. A big bag of potato chips is not one serving.
• Neither is a pint of ice cream.
• Or half a pie or cake. (One-ninth, 2.3 oz, is a serving size of cake. Isn't that hilarious? Who are they kidding? "Please, cut just one-ninth for me." hahahaha)
• A plateful of pasta will FEED A FAMILY. Your portion is 1 cup, which isn't worth even cooking, let alone eating.
• After a few years, you will get used to the taste of diet soda and artificial sweetner.
• Stay home, alone, on Thanksgiving with a Lean Cuisine turkey dinner. It's the only way.
• Yes, you can go to fast food places. You can have coffee at McDonald's, a salad at most places, fat free dressing, please, but the Colonel is dead to you.
• I'm asking my legislator to have those "pizzas" by Lean Cuisine outlawed as false advertising and fraudulent food. They aren't pizza. I don't know what they are, but they aren't pizza.
• Just watching exercise videos doesn't work. You have to actually get OFF your ass and DO the moves.
• Tai Chi will wreak your knees. Those old Asians who demonstrate it have artificial joints. Trust me.
• You also have to listen to the hypnosis tapes -- just reading about them and organizing them in the drawer next to your bed won't float you away in a weight-loss trance.
  
• After a certain age, your choice becomes a thin, healthier body or an accordion-pleated face. You choose.

I'm stopping now. I'm hungry. I haven't had my congealed mass of gray slop fresh-cooked oatmeal (no butter, no raisins, no brown sugar, no salt, no sugar, no milk) and I just can't wait any longer. YUM.
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Stress 101 Cliff Notes

Except for a Trappist monk or Carmelite nun, I live probably the most stress-free life in America...seriously. It's a state I've cultivated and nurtured for the last 14 years, since life in the corporate world pushed my blood pressure up to Himalayan levels, and it was either reduce the stress or call the Garden Of Memories for their next available plot.

I'm certainly not in the advice business...since I refuse to take it from anyone else, I'm in no position to give it. I am, however, going to list a few things that I think have qualified me to write the opening sentence of this posting. Like anything else worthwhile in life, stress reduction takes some thought, planning and a few conscious decisions... plus time to actually make these changes happen. Some of them may work for you -- others you may think are completely nuts and, by association, that I'm a complete nutcase. I may be... but I'm a non-stressed-out nutcase. So there.

Job stress? I quit my job and started a profitable home business. It's possible... millions are doing it and more join the ranks every day. In one sweet fell swoop I eliminated "the boss" by becoming one. I work my own hours, the money I bring in is MY money, not some corporation's, my jammies are my work clothes and my 24-foot commute doesn't require a drop of $3.50/gallon gas. There are a few downsides, but stress isn't one of them. For me, the benefits have been incredible.

Financial stress? I've learned to live to my needs, not my wants. This doesn't mean I don't dally on ebay and Amazon, but reducing my consumption of "stuff" and slipping down a rung or two on the lifestyle ladder have been good in more ways than financially. This was also a package deal for me -- cutting back on buying also means cutting back on shopping -- which is a HUGE stressor for me. I know it's recreational and even a necessity for a lot of women, but I'm not one of 'em.

Noise stress. After eliminating from my life the unethical assholes I worked for, this was the second most important stressor, but one of the hardest to achieve. This may not apply to anyone else, but I suspect I'm not the only one whom noise makes crazy...if you don't agree, maybe you just don't realize its impact. Noise is EVERYWHERE. I'm convinced that our hunter/gatherer brains are not hardwired for all the input we receive every single minute of the day, unless we consciously control it. I DVR every single thing I watch on TV - no exception. And before God wrought the DVR, I VCR'd everything, primarily to skip the horrendous burden of commercials. Remember the good old days when a commercial break meant one or two ads, just time enough to grab a Hostess cupcake from the kitchen? Now there can be up to 10 ads during each break, and a break every 3 minutes, each with its own mind-numbing music/graphics/narration/video. I miss it all -- and it only delays my (questionable) viewing pleasure for 15 minutes, or so. Now if I could just figure out how to block out the canned music in every single store, restaurant and elevator in the world.

People stress. Nancy Reagan had this one right.. I just say NO. It wasn't hard to learn and I didn't even need to practice it in front of a mirror. N. O. No thanks. No, I'm sorry. I'd really like to, but No, I can't. This may be one of the occasions in life where a little lie is okay for the greater good. This one works for me because I'm a hard-core introvert -- extroverts may not ever be able to say no to social occasions or companionship, but I find it easy and necessary. No thanks, I already have plans that day/night/weekend/year. No. Thanks, but no. (Note: This works exceptionally well with telemarketers and other phone solicitors.)

Diet and Exercise -- yeah, you see it everywhere because it's true. Eating well and exercising regularly WORK to help reduce stress. I'm not even tempted by fast food restaurants, and I have so much guilt about eating other junk food that it's just not worth it. I'm not an exercise freak, but I do manage to walk 2-3 miles a day at least five times a week. You just can't beat those little endolphins.

Sleeping...is a problem for many of us, me included, but sleeplessness contributes to daily stress. You certainly don't want to be around cranky me after a bad night. Hypnosis has helped, as do prescription medications. I'm still up a couple of hours at night, but since this has been going on since 1984 I think it just might be chronic. Thank you, God, for pharmaceuticals.

Stress about national/world current events. This is a toughie. I want to stay informed, but "being informed" also means I must read and watch all of the horrific and sleazy occurrences of our daily lives. So, I turn off the news about every three weeks and leave it off for awhile -- catching only headlines online. My political activism and idealism years are behind me, and all that evil and scary stuff does get to me. I call this my ostrich plan -- and while it may be foolish and socially irresponsible, it does reduce my stress. This is the opposite of apathy -- I really care too much about issues and events, but I'm not convinced that worrying about things I can't influence or change does any good, anyway. For those things I can't ignore, I have this blog. (It's free and easy therapy.)

Well, that leaves holiday stress. This holly-jolly season must be near the top of the list of stress-inducers since I've already seen three online articles addressing this problem, and it's not even December yet. Those articles all talked about the things I've already managed above -- with just a few exceptions. My lights get tangled like everyone else's, and all the fattening holiday food is a constant temptation. I get really tired of all the BAD Christmas music that saturates the atmosphere everywhere I go. (Where is it written that every third-rate celebrity must produce an album of Christmas songs? I don't remember seeing "Trigger Taps Out Holiday Melodies" when I was a kid.)

I guess, as in many other aspects of life, the blessed perspective of age itself is a stress-reducer... priorities are clearer, and fewer responsibilities make the holidays lighter. This is one of those times when I wouldn't be 30 again for anything, with all the inherent stress those young-family years include. It's nice now to be "Grandma" and one generation removed from Santa's stand-in.

Now if someone would only invent a non-veggie appetizer with no calories and no fat grams that tasted like, I don't know....yummy food.

Couch Potato Alert!!

I've been reading Jill's blog "Up In Alaska" for months and, along with her excellent writing and fabulous photos, I've been awed at her passion for cycling in the wilds of Alaska.

She's leaving tomorrow for a ride that will cover 360 miles in 48 hours (sleeping at night), with a route that crosses the coastal ranges of Alaska inland into the Yukon, tracing some of the routes taken by those in the Klondike Gold rush of 1898. Tourist guides also call this route the Golden Circle. If you have a minute, read her blog today about her plans and preparations.

Yeah, she's young, she's healthy, she's fit, she eats turkey jerky, she rides 50 or 100 miles before work in the afternoon, but my God! I think I'm doing phenomenally well if I haul my ass 10 miles around the neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon bike ride. I can't imagine....

I can't decide if I envy her lifestyle or if I think she's a little bit nuts -- or both. No, I have to be honest -- it's envy. I wish I had discovered early on the joy and benefits of sports activities, instead of waiting until my knees were shot and other joints too rusty to be cajoled into strenuous exercise. There's definitely a moral here somewhere...

Can you imagine telling someone you rode 360 miles in 48 hours? What incredible memories she's stacking up for her rocking-chair days.

Best of luck, Jill... have FUN!