Down the slippery slope

Being the Mom means managing most of the food intake for the family members. (I guess because I have boobs and have used them to feed my offspring, I'm supposed to be an expert on food an nutrition?) Anyway, I try to limit the junk intake in our house because I DO care about the health and well-being of my loved ones. I also try not to be TOO Nazi-esque with junk food because it can lead to dangerous binging.

I once had a friend whose mother was a nurse and wouldn't let her eat things like chips and ice cream because of the potential damage to her health. This friend admitted that she once snuck to a corner market near her home and bought a can of Pringles with her allowance. She then proceeded to shove as big a stack of Pringles that would fit into her mouth and chew and chew and savor the salty, fatty, crunchy goodness.

My mom was also a nurse and while my Sis and I were growing up Mom was a careful monitor of the family's food intake. We had treats, but they were divied up and rationed out. Mom would put the treats for the coming week into the large freezer in the basement so we wouldn't snarf everything at once. One of the rare times my Sis and I were ever in cahoots was to look for the freezer key so we could sneak some of the treats.

We also got to have a few more treats when we were on vacation. That was definitely a special time. We didn't get to go hog wild or anything, but the restrictions were relaxed a bit.

Earlier in the month ONO and I took the mini-muffins on a little vacation. It was the only official one of the year. We spent a night camping at the Indiana Dunes, a day at the Dunes beach, and then a night in a hotel (ONO is SOOOO smart!) And, true to form, I relaxed the snack restrictions for the sake of the vacation. Being mostly vegetarian, meat is a big treat. So for camping we had hot dogs and brats and for breakfast we had some sausage. We also had those little powdered sugar donuts as well as Smores. How can you not have Smores camping??? At the beach we had TWO kinds of chips and a taco dip and ONO and I each brought along a 6 pack of our favorite soda. His is diet Coke, mine is full-powered Pepsi.

I REALLY enjoyed our get-away -- in many ways. It was a mostly relaxing, fun time with few worries. But, even after a few weeks, I'm still struggling to claw my way back up to the top of the Food Pyramid.

Here's what we all know we're supposed to be eating:



Here's what my eating habits looked like on vacation:



Of course it would be "Pepsi" not "Coke," but still, the image is about right.

The problem with this slippery slope is that it's so nice and squishy (or crunchy, depending on your cravings) down at the bottom. But I keep reminding myself that I really don't need anymore squishy than I already have.

Are you a giant?

Here are the lyrics:

When I go for a drive I like to pull off to the side
Of the road, turn out the lights, get out and look up at the sky
And I do this to remind me that I'm really, really tiny
In the grand scheme of things and sometimes this terrifies me

But it's only really scary cause it makes me feel serene
In a way I never thought I'd be because I've never been
So grounded, and so humbled, and so one with everything
I am grounded, I am humbled, I am one with everything

Rock and roll is fun but if you ever hear someone
Say you are huge, look at the moon, look at the stars, look at the sun
Look at the ocean and the desert and the mountains and the sky
Say I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye

When I saw Geneviève I really liked it when she said
What she said about the giant and the lemmings on the cliff
She said 'I like giants
Especially girl giants
Cause all girls feel too big sometimes
Regardless of their size'

When I go for a drive I like to pull off to the side
Of the road and run and jump into the ocean in my clothes
*I'm smaller than a poppyseed inside a great big bowl
And the ocean is a giant that can swallow me whole

So I swim for all salvation and I swim to save my soul
But my soul is just a whisper trapped inside a tornado
So I flip to my back and I float and I sing
I am grounded, I am humbled, I am one with everything
I am grounded, I am humbled, I am one with everything

So I talked to Geneviève and almost cried when she said
That the giant on the cliff wished that she was dead
And the lemmings on the cliff wished that they were dead
So the giant told the lemmings why they ought to live instead

When she thought up all those reasons that they ought to live instead
It made her reconsider all the sad thoughts in her head
So thank you Geneviève, cause you take what is in your head
And you make things that are so beautiful and share them with your friends

We all become important when we realize our goal
Should be to figure out our role within the context of the whole
And yeah, rock and roll is fun, but if you ever hear someone
Say you are huge, look at the moon, look at the stars, look at the sun
Look at the ocean and the desert and the mountains and the sky

Say I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
And I don't wanna make her cry
Cause I like giants

"I Like Giants" by Kimya Dawson

Birthday season starts today

Between now and Christmas, our family will celebrate 7 birthdays:

ONO's
Bethany's
mine
my dad/Granddad
Logan
Carter
ONO's mom/Grandma

And 3 major holidays which feature high levels of food consumption.

Sugary, fatty food.

So every 2 weeks, roughly, there will be some extra form of temptation in our house -- staring us RIGHT IN THE FACE!! (Note the operative word EXTRA because we are well versed in the sugary/fatty-snack-while-watching-TV-at-night ritual.

SIGH.

Oh well. Who ever heard of birthday broccoli, anyway?

Apparently, these two people:



Personally, I'd choose the one on the right....it's an actual cake. The other one is a meat loaf cake, "frosted" with mashed potatoes, and decorated with broccoli florets.

Now THAT'S a creative person!

Weighty Issues

I thought long and hard about writing this entry. It can be a hard thing to share in public because I'm not sure what kind of reaction I'm going to get. I don't care so much what strangers think, but I know for SURE that I'm going to get grief from certain someones in my life. But, I also know that most, if not all, of the women who read this have experienced at one time or another in their lives what I'm about to share. So here we go.

I'd been feeling pretty good about my body since I started running last spring. I hadn't lost oodles of weight, but then, I wasn't really trying to do that. It would be nice, don't get me wrong, but I'm a big fan of food and I don't do well with deprivation. But, even though I try to focus on being healthy, strong and active, I confess I have bought into the culturally based definition of beauty: young and thin. Well, at 44, young is certainly out of the question....you just can't stop time. But thin.....

I know I will never, ever be thin like what I think thin looks like. It's just not in my genetic coding. I come from sturdy stock. Even after more than 30 years I'm still in the process of accepting that.

I remember in 4th or 5th grade noticing girls that were thinner than me and wishing to look like them, specifically the backs of their knees. Sounds weird, but the backs of their knees had absolutely no fat and you could clearly see the tendons connecting their thighs to their calves. For some reason I liked that better than what I had -- fatty backs of the knees. So I was maybe nine or ten? Where the heck did that idea come from??? It's not like the backs of 70s super models' knees were featured in Seventeen or Madamoiselle. Maybe I simply found that more to my liking. I don't remember looking at the backs of my knees in the mirrors of my childhood home, but somehow I knew I didn't have thin ones. And I wanted them.

I certainly look at myself in the mirror now. Yes, I'm naked. Amazingly, I manage to do that without paying too much attention to the silvery landscape of stretch marks (from birthing 4 babies), or the boobs that look like tube socks with tennis balls in the ends (from nursing 4 babies). I focus on my shoulders, arms, belly button (I kinda like it...it looks like an upside-down crescent moon -- also from birthing 4 babies). And I'll look at my legs. I've always liked my calves (thanks to Mom's side of the family), and more recently, my thighs because I thought they looked more muscle-y from running......at least from the sides.

You've probably heard somewhere that when you get cocky about something, the universe will find a way to knock you back down. After all, arrogance isn't pretty. Well, the universe was very helpful to me with mine last week.

I was getting dressed and the mini-muffins and I were dancing to one of my fav '70s songs: Give up the Funk by Parliament (AWESOME tune!) It was a good day, the sun was shining, no one was cranky (yet). And then I glanced over at the full length mirror and caught site of the backs of my thighs.

OH. MY. GOD. Where the hell did all that cellulite come from?!? Are those REALLY my legs? I don't have my glasses on and I can still see it so it must be pretty bad. And yes, those are really my legs. I didn't even get to the backs of the knees I was so disturbed by the thighs!

What went through my mind after that fateful moment was far from compassionate or self-accepting: "I can't believe you've gone out in shorts like that! This year you're only wearing shorts that hit at the knees. And forget about a swim suit! This is what happens when you eat the way you do. Got a little cocky, huh? Thinking you're impervious to weight gain just because you ruu-uun."



And of course, every article of clothing I put on after that was assessed for how it fit -- "This is tighter than usual. I'm a fat cow."

And every time I looked in the mirror, either clothed or unclothed, instead of seeing a healthy, strong woman, I saw a large, dimple-thighed woman. It's a shameful admission but I've been in a state of self-loathing ever since. And maybe I decided to write about it publicly so I could see just how hurtful I'm being to myself and stop it.

I know that if I like what I see in the mirror it's because it somehow matches the current definition of beauty. Or I've at least made peace with that part of myself (like not looking at my boobs or hips). But I don't think I'd like the look of cellulite even if Gisele and Kate Moss were covered in it from head to toe. I can see plump--really I can. There's a universal appeal to the curved shape (think faces, flowers, nice boobs and butts, etc.) And there were certainly periods in history when plump, voluminous women were preferred, like during the mid- to late 19th century.

But bumpy, rippley curves? I don't think so.

Ironically, I was listening to a mindfulness CD last night and Jon Kabat-Zinn said something like "You are large. You contain multitudes." He was, of course, talking about how each person has the capacity for being connected to the infinite, not about having large bodies. But it gave me a nice reframe for thinking about myself as large.

I do NOT like track running

Just so ya know.

I was looking forward to running yesterday when ONO got home from work. Twice a week I spend the entire day the mini-muffins, and by the time he gets home I need to run away (pun intended).

But yesterday, the predicted one inch of snow turned into 4 inches, with a sprinkling of sleet. I thought hard about it and I realized it wasn't a good idea to run outside. It's not the snow, so much, or even the sleet. It's the stupid drivers not slowing down, not seeing me, suddenly seeing me and then spinning out of control, right into me. Perhaps a little hyperbolic but entirely possible.

So, I opted for the U of I armory track again. Bleeechhh. There just wasn't anything interesting about it this time. And for some reason my legs felt blocks of lead. It might have been the generous plate of tofu Pad Thai I'd eaten only an hour before, or the shoveling I did before hand so I could get to said armory. At any rate, I felt slow. Slower than slow. Slow as molasses. In Alaska. Slower than a sloth in the Amazon rainforest. In summer. I think you get the picture.

And it didn't help that I was the oldest person on the track by say....25 years. OK, maybe 20. But still! I really psyched myself out by focusing on all the young, trim, fast college students lapping me. And it wasn't until about mile 3 that I realized I was doing that. Oooohhhhh. Riiight. This is why running is said to be a mental sport.

I finally stopped watching everyone else and started paying attention to my breathing, my form, my music.

And then I went home and had hot chocolate and a bunch of Oreo-Minis.

Check #6 off the list

So I ran in the U of I Armory last night. It was just too dadgum cold to run outside. Ohhhhh I can't wait for spring!

Compared to outside, track running is pretty boring, at least the running part. However, track running can be quite interesting, especially when it's on a university campus.

At first I was a little intimidated and self-conscious being significantly older and heavier than the average track user. I just KNEW I was going to have to be in the "slow jogger" lane. But then I just started to notice things.

"That guy doesn't really move his left arm at all."

"Hey! Blondie! You need a proper running bra. Seriously!"
"How does he run so fast all hunched up like that?"

"Every time I come around this curve that guy starts doing pull-ups.. ..hmmm....Oooohhhhh. It's for Blondie."

"Her butt is bigger than mine.....I think. Yeah, her butt is definitely bigger. You know, that's quite a booty for a white girl...budonkadonk!"

It really helps the laps go by. All 38 of them.

Proud Member Since

oh, about 4 days ago. But still, I'm thrilled! I know, you're asking yourself "Member of what?"

Those of you who read this blog, I mean REALLY read it, know that I'm a faithful, enthusiastic reader of the Athena Diaries.

Not too long ago I noticed that GeekGirl had a little note at the end of her blog roll asking any Athenas and plus-sized endurance athletes interested in being added to it to email her. I was immediately interested but thought, "I can't do that...I'm an Athena for sure, but I'm no endurance athlete. I mean, the other kick-butt women on the roll do TRIATHALONS, and races named things like "Black Warrior 50K" (that's 5.OH., not 5). A few days later I saw it again and thought "what the heck?" so I did. And wonder of wonders....I was added! Very cool.

You might be wondering what an "Athena" is. In the running world there are special categories for people who don't fit the runner stereotype: the young, lean (read near-anorexic) smallish person. That would include any person over age 40 (they are "Master" runners -- nice reframe, huh?),





any male runner weighing 198 lbs or more (they are "Clydesdales -- not such a nice re-frame unless you like those kinds of horses),


and any female runner weighing over 150 lbs. We are called Athenas. I love, love, LOVE this label.


Here's why: In ancient Greece, Athena was known and worshiped as the goddess of wisdom and the more disciplined side of war (unlike Ares -- the god of bloodlust and slaughter). She is often accompanied by the goddess of victory, Nike. Now there's a kick-butt woman!! (You're welcome for the Greek mythology lesson.)

Basic physics tells us that the less you weigh, the faster you'll go. Hard core racers take this so seriously they have special shoes that can weigh as little as 4 ounces. That's light. My Asics weigh 11 ounces -- OMG! they're like lead!

And there's a formula for estimating how much faster your race time could be depending on how many pounds you lose. Good thing I'm not hard core. I'm really not that interested in trying to lose a bunch of weight just to shave off a minute from my 5K time. Besides, who wants a puny woman when you can have an ATHENA?

THOSE were the days!

One of my clients sent me this ad. We've been talking about body image and how women struggle with achieving the "ideal" look, whatever it may be at the time. Ironically, the "before" woman on the left would probably be considered chubby by today's standards.

Although I'm by no means "willowy," and never will be, thanks to running I'm close to the lowest weight I've been since college. And even though my resting heart rate, cholesterol, and blood pressure are "excellent" (according to my doc), all I can think about is how fat I am because my BMI puts me in the "overweight" category. I just want to send a big shout out to the media for so shaping my thoughts and attitudes that I ignore how strong and healthy I am and focus on how thin and willowy I'm not.