kellementology

life according to me

Tag: Diet

  • My Particular Brand of Menopause.

    I’m a bit under the weather today with what seems to be a fairly nasty head cold compounded by a lack of sleep caused by the cold.  It’s a two-fold cold:  that of being sick, and that which is caused by our window which has to be open lest one of us sweat to death in the night.  Being under said weather puts me in a less than joyful mood and left to consider all the more pleasant aspects of my life — like menopause.

    Just seeing the word on the page can cause a number of reactions depending on one’s particular set of circumstances:

    1. You’re female and under 30 so menopause can’t possibly have anything to do with you.  In fact, the concept of one grey hair or chin whisker may have recently sent you to near hysteria;
    2. You’re male, and anything having to do with the female body that isn’t about cleavage, thighs, or hot sex may as well be written in a language unknown to man.  That would be a male, and not mankind in general;
    3. You’re a menopausal woman and because you’re on a first name basis with menopause, reading about it most likely isn’t the first item of the day with your usual Venti Soy Decaf Latte, thank you very much; or
    4. You’re married to a menopausal woman and unlike awaiting the bouncing bundle of joy which is the result of a healthy pregnancy, you suspect absolutely nothing that cute could possibly come of this.

    From time to time, I Google menopause just to see what comes up and it’s dismal.  I suppose this behavior makes me Glutton for Punishment’s poster child, but it seems to be part of my two-year and counting adjustment to aging.  Most of the initial hits are for sites selling or promoting HRT drugs.  The others are large medical sites like the Mayo Clinic and WebMD and although basic information can be found on all of these sites, they essentially say the same thing:  hot flashes are normal; we’re at greater risk for joint pain and osteoporosis; our skin will become more dry and less elastic; our midsections will increase in size; our muscles begin to disappear, our hair will thin in some places and grow in others less desirable; we will have difficulty with our teeth and gums; and most importantly — we will be at far greater risk for heart disease.

    The good news is that regular exercise, improved diet, and reduced stress can lessen the effects of all of the above.  By all means, let the happy dancing begin.

    (more…)

  • To Whom it May Concern

    Dorothy, are we in Kansas yet? I don’t know what day in NaBloPoMo I’m in, but have already figured out that it’s a gonna be a long haul…

    November 6, 2007

    To Whom it May Concern:

    There isn’t one special person I’d like to address today. Blame it on Thinner. You know, that hunk ‘o metal and plastic that I step on once a week just to see how quickly I’m losing the battle of the bulge? Yes, Her. And yanno? She’s just as heartless as she’s always been. Cold, calculating bitc….

    The MoH and I started a little health plan a week ago and he has lost three whole pounds as of yesterday and I’ve lost notta-one. Zero. Nothing. Nada. I am so completely sick of this whole thing I can’t see straight. No, I’m not talking about just from this past week. Hell, this goes back months. COULD I GET SOME PROGRESS HERE, WAITER? What kind of establishment is this anyhoo?

    I don’t want any advice. I don’t need consoling, or understanding or links to research or plans or anything like that. I read. In fact, if I could figure out how to sustain life by just reading, I’d be in heaven. I read, question, research, examine, wonder. I do all that crap like breathing. I could probably spout off any fact that anyone wants to know about being healthy. But I guess I just am not willing to live on a spa diet and bust my ass an hour a day each and every day of the week. I’m destined to be a dumpling. A morsel.

    Photo 2.jpg

    What I need is a bit fat sucker machine. A giant Flo-bee. One that I can just hook up, and not only will it remove any adipose tissue I’m not overly fond of, but it will suck out the genes I have that have nudged me to this point over the years, fine American Farm Stock that I am. Sheesh. SOOOOOOOO-EEEEEEE….

    I don’t want to be skinny. Hell, I don’t even want to weight what I did when I was in my twenties. I just want to be rewarded for:

    • eating bran cereal in measured quantities (2/3 c.) with nearly fat-free milk — 1%?
    • eating wraps (whole grain with fiber…)with mushrooms, spinach, onions and other animal feed
    • nibbling at nuts and prunes
    • eating cautious quantities of food
    • skipping bread, or anything with processed white flour
    • avoiding any kind of fat — even fat that’s good for me — well except that bit of avocado…
    • exercising, and yes, breaking a sweat (at which I’m exceedingly accomplished)
    • not even looking at butter
    • drastically (gasp) decreasing wine consumption and drinking red instead of white with a calorie-less bubbly lime flavored mixer
    • eating non-fat plain yogurt by itself
    • eliminating quite a bit of meat from our diet in the past week and what meat we’ve had has been in four oz. portions
    • not intending to, but skipping a few meals, ( and boy did I pay for that with shaky, trembling legs and drowsiness)
    • not eating chips, or cookies, or candy, soda, or ice cream (which I rarely, if ever, eat anyway) REALLY.
    • when we went out last Friday, ordering a salad that I didn’t even eat all of
    • not being able to remember the last time I had pizza or fast food in any way, shape or form. Wait. I had pizza when the fires were burning — so two or so weeks ago?
    • having ONE small piece of Halloween candy
    • walking between 10-12 miles last week
    • eating only ONE piece of that luscious Bostini that I actually ended up throwing in the trash and isn’t that a complete crime for being so very wasteful…

    OKAY? Jeez. Maybe some TNT would help. Just blow the parts off me. But yanno? I think I’ll just nuke the damn scale. She’s a stupid b*tch anyway. And a liar, with that Thinner staring at whomever is brave enough to step on her ugly face. That’s what she gets for lying. Thinner Bitch_0963

    I know. I’m supposed to be patient. Understanding. Do yoga. Feel positive that I didn’t GAIN weight this week. Excuse me? I’m sick of open-minded, positive thinking, too. Seriously. A little hissy fit and some generally nasty thinking has got to be healthy once in a while. Maybe if I get really worked up here, I could burn some calories.

    Whatever.

    And the thing that is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO annoying about this is that I actually LIKE myself. Honestly. I’m not doing this because I abhor the sight of myself or consider myself to be unsightly. But at some point, I’m smart enough to know that as I age, I need to be very aware of what and how I eat, and the degree to which I exercise because I want to live a very long time. And people in my family do. Very long. And what the hell fun will it be to not be able to move, or think, or write, or create nonsense with my hands? No thanks.

    So I’ll just plug along. I’ll just accept whatever comes my way and feel thankful, feel gratitude, feel…calm. Peaceful. I’M CALM. OKAY? Photo 1.jpg

    I’m going to organize closets now. At least that way, I can actually see what I’ve accomplished and won’t have to soothe say my way to some level of awareness and understanding that will allow me to exist harmoniously with myself. What a load of horse sh*t.

    Whatever.

  • Not so Scarlett nitty gritty

    Not My Self Portrait I guess October 8th is as good a day as any to decree that I’m back in the getting healthy and looking great saddle I fell off of after summer ended. Without a lot of fanfare, I’ve created another page up at the top called Daily Nitty Gritty so I can hold my Rubenesque self accountable for how much I eat, drink, and exercise. For some reason I’m simple-minded enough to comply with the rule that if I eat it or drink it, I write it down. I guess I must believe that I’m my own worst enemy, or that my conscience is anyway.

    The way this simple tactic works is that I will avoid doing anything that I’m not ready to fess up about. No, I’m never compelled to cheat. And I’m not messing with goals that are related to pounds lost, either, because the frame of mind I’m in, I’d prefer to consider that I’m working on eating more vegetables, less meat and saturated fat, more fish, more whole grains, drink less wine, drink more water, and combine cardio with weights. Sound reasonable?

    I’ve gotten on that damn scale just to note where I’ve begun (yes, back to square one). And I will get on it to track the pounds I do lose once every week on Tuesday like I was before. There has to be some reason to look forward to Tuesday since it’s the sorriest day on the calendar to me and always has been.

    So no more procrastination. Just call me Scarlett. Well, maybe not… okay.  Beulah.*Dang, girl. Them are some eyebrows…* No Southern Belle

    Okay, so my face doesn’t look quite right on Scarlett’s body since I had to cut off my cheeks and darken the brows, but I sure as hell know a lot more about the Photoshop CS3 present my niece gave me than I did when I started. And Jen at Absolutely Bananas who seems to be able to do the Photoshop cut and paste thing in her sleep gave far better directions than my Photoshop book. Thanks!

    So, how’d I do, teach? Well, outside of my face being fatter than Vivien Leigh’s, the photos not quite being the same size (I did try…), and not taking a new photo to cut and paste because I’m butt ugly today on a bad hair day scale of 1-10 with mine being a -3.5.

    Let’s see. Does that quite cover all the excuses?

  • Third Pounders, Slim-Fast & a Stevia Chaser to Go, Please.

    I’ve got food on my brain today. I know you’re currently questioning an image of me with a fried egg on my head or something. Or perhaps wondering if I’ve gone bonkers having decided that if I lay food on my head, then I won’t be able to absorb calories, and will still be able to nourish myself. Condition my hair at the same time as well? Ah….no. I’ve succumbed. I’ve pulled the Slim-Fast from the back of the fridge. And worse? I’ve cracked open a jar of 100% Pure Stevia for my coffee this morning. And fat-free Coffee Mate. Blech. Seriously.

    So that means I’ve consumed any number of barely pronounceable “ingredients,” and “minerals” this morning. *sigh* How I miss my Kashi and blueberries. And what the hell is Stevia, anyway? I saw it at Trader Joe’s, thought about it for two whole seconds and threw it in my basket right before vacation. Past experience has proven that no matter how much I have walked, or as in the case this year, swam and paddled a kayak, I return blimplike. A veritable dumpling just missing the gravy. A chubbette. Or phattissima. Have I made my point?

    Retrospectively, I did not pork out on our vacation:

    Chicken and Sausage Kabobs with Rice and a salad. Not big portions. Roasted veggies, mushrooms….YUM. Oh, but the MoH made Banana pancakes the next morning. Yes, and he drove them to the beach slathered in butter and “lite” syrup where my VBF and I were staked out with lounge chairs and building our compound at 8AM.

    Then Grilled Tri-Tip, Roasted potatoes, and salad. Again, not big portions. Oh. But there were lovely berries and cream with chocolate chip merengues. Meringues don’t have calories, right? And berries are loaded with antioxidants. So there was only a plop of cream. Not too bad.

    But there was breakfast again the next day. But then there were those grilled pork chops and quinoa salad with grilled bread. And pancakes and waffles the next morning. Oh my gawd, and then that pasta the last night with grilled sausage, chicken, veggies….And that baked blueberry crisp. With vanilla ice cream. Y-U-M.

    Of course, I consumed absolutely no wine the entire time. Don’t blink or you’ll miss those low flying pigs…

    Okay, so does no lunch every single day count for anything? Jeez. What am I supposed to do, starve myself?

    Um…so on the way home we stopped at Mickey D’s. I just had to try one of those new angus Boi-gahz. Had. To.

    Lunch on the Road What? You can’t see it quite clearly?

    Boi-gah It actually tasted like a real hamburger. For the first time ever. And I don’t want to hear anything about Fast Food Nation, okay? Gimmeabreak. I’m not a Fast Food Frequent Flyer and I eat my grains and veggies regularly, okay? So no surprise that I’m not a vegetarian, but I have read recently that vegetarians are eating more meat… Just not Mickey D’s.

    So how many calories could be in one hamburger? Huh? Uh, according to this source, only about 800. Uh, approximately three Lean Cuisine frozen entrees. That’s three lunches. No, I’m not checking on the fries. Or the Sprite. So probably four lunches.

    My Slim-Fast has 190 calories. The Stevia zip.

    Whatever.

    Tomorrow I have to deal with the Thinner Bitch, that heartless, cold, slab of worthless metal and springs that I may launch across the street if she gives me any grief in the morning.

    Thinner Bitch

  • Where in Hell did the day go this time?

    Do you know what’s worse than being a dedicated blogger, don’t you? Being a dedicated cook. A cook with a cooking blog. And what could possibly top that? Having said blogs and having your husband at home for a week. It isn’t that he’s here that causes the problem — it’s the hopping and moving and shaking. You know. Going places and doing things. So blogging in general causes the first round of why the hell my house looks the way it does, and the MoH being on vacation mode (a much deserved one btw) really sends the ol’ hacienda over the edge. Over the edge and into the dump. The good thing about all of this? We’ve done every thing there is to do, so now the RT and I can grow roots for the rest of the summer. Trick.

    So what did I do today with resolve to shower first thing, read the paper to stay abreast of cutting edge news find something blogworthy, exercise, and get some much needed house projects done — which really means make a bigger mess than already exists. What did I do? I’ve been checking out other’s blogs. For TWO HOURS. There is simply not enough time in the day to do what I want to do. I find that to be a problem. I could use an additional six hours to take care of my responsibilities. The list grows as I write:

    1. Revamp my Phoodplan. Let’s face it, I was doomed to failure from the start. But there’s more to it. Does it make sense that for eight weeks I was excellent. On the job — well, okay, four. Four serious weeks, with four more of a dwindling, oozing kind of problem. But still. My VBF did come around again, we did start walking at the crack of freaking dawn again, and after getting within spitting distance (if you’re a weak spitter) of the magical 10 lubs lost mark, I popped up four lubs. So being the human I am, I flipped the flying bird to the Thinner bitch in my bathroom IMG_0963and stopped measuring and writing, and doing everything related to the Phoodplan except walk — a few miles a day at least five days a week. And guess what? I stayed the same. How can that be? So today (after diligently eating branflakes with 1% and blueberries……and later two pieces of raisin cinnamon toast……with butter &@#$***&$@%%%%%…..)I’m going to revise what I said I’d do. And hell no, I’ll not lose 50 lubs by September. But that shouldn’t be the goal. More later. sounds noble, doesn’t it?
    2. Clean my refrigerator. You should see it. Really. We’re at the “shoving it in and slamming the door before everything else falls out” code mold stage of non-Martha-ness with our refrigerator. My middle son dropped by the other day, opened the fridge to get some milk and after lining up a few cartons on the counter asked, “So what kind of a problem are you guys having with milk?” with a smirk on his face. I let him know that it’s not a problem, but simple: whole milk for the ice cream recipe, 1% for my cereal, half ‘n’ half for the MoH’s tea, whipping cream for the creme brulee recipe, 2% for the RT and his addiction to chocolate milk, buttermilk for the sorbet recipe, and heavy cream for the chocolate cake recipe. Okay, so maybe it’s a problem.
    3. Cook and post recipes from less fat laden sources. Not nearly as fun, and often not as tasty — but not always. My body and my refrigerator would be forever thankful. But the dairy council of American will most likely send a hit squad out to get me. Or I’ll have mad cows on my doorstep mooing in protest. On second thought, that may be more conducive to sleep than the army of lawnmowers and hedge cutters outside first thing this morning.
    4. Get a job. Ugh. I don’t want a job. GardenerI’d like to earn some money occasionally, though. Dog WalkerOr even routinely. That might be nice. I do remember it was swell to have a dollar in my wallet once in a while. Bear in mind I didn’t say I didn’t want to work. CookThere’s a big difference between having a job and working. Tutoring I should clarify by saying that I’d like to earn money in a less than typical eight-to-five way. Writers-publish dot comI’m not going to mention too loudly the earn money from home thing, because I could write for an entire week about that racket and its related gimmicks, purple kool-aid drinkers, and downright scum-sucking scammers. I’ll save that story for another day, also. I’ll call it, “How Not to Be the Poster Child for the Work At Home Scam Sucker Born Last Minute.”
    5. Try to get straight all the summer reality TV shows we’re watching. Really. I need a tote board or something. The person who used to scoff at others for wasting their time with such drivel. Me. Sanctimonious moi. “The Next Food Network Star,” “Top Chef,” “Hell’s Kitchen,” and “So You Think You Can Dance” all compete for our time. Thank goodness for our DVR. Otherwise, we’d have to watch….uh…..I dunno? Maybe we could each vanish into separate rooms in the house doing our own thing instead of being together in the family room familying like the good family we are. I haven’t written about any of these shows like I have in the past with American Noodle, but that isn’t because I haven’t wanted to. So much to say, so little time….But I will take the time to say this: I found someone who Giada drives as crazy as me. You know. That woman with the teeth and the cleevage who acts like she can cook. Giada De-Lah-Cookless Check out Jerry’s well executed tirade at Cooking By the Seat of My Pants. I think he’s my hero.
    6. Keep making progress on my pile o’ books. I’m experimenting with sidebar widgets because I less than love writing book reviews. Especially when I haven’t loved the book. It’s like kicking a dead horse. Well, maybe not all the time. But I’ve got to have some credibility, right? Let you know where I am with that pile. What’s shining, and what’s to be avoided — just in case you’re inclined to dash to the bookstore to ready a Pulitzer winner that’s five years old instead of the newest. Right? I just finished this The Reader at Random House and this, and am getting ready to read this The History of Love at Authors on the Web. I just bought it. I know. I said I wouldn’t spend money for books. But I couldn’t resist. It’s a problem. Read, Spot, read. See Spot go.
    7. Catch up and keep up with my food blog posts. They take freaking forever to write. And Typepad loads the photos soooooooo slowly. I have gazillions of photos of food I’ve made and only a fraction of them posted. It’s grueling. Salads, desserts, main dishes, breakfast food. *sigh* I believe I did find in my food blog surfing yesterday, a cool new flickr toy that will make it all so much easier — and eye appealing. I’ll get back to you on that one.
    8. Say thanks to a few people on the internet who have recognized me….
    • Mel at Freak Parade who I miss quite a bit, who has decided that I’m a Rockin’ Blogger. Woot! Rockin’ Blogger I wondered what that rumbling was all about. Does it help burn calories? Mel is an outstanding human whom I enjoy tremendously. Her blog makes me laugh, stirs me to frustrated anger, and makes me cry.
    • Ev, the ever busy and ubiquitous personality behind My Life is Murphy’s Law, has deemed me worthy of an Imaginif award. It was started by Megan at Imaginif, a site dedicated to keeping children safe in all ways. I know my 15 year-old is safe. He’s a house potato like me. Yep, I know what he looks at on line, too. That’s my job! Imaginif Award
    • Steve at Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Blogosphere, 100 Bloggers, and Joyful Jubilant Learning — quite the involved and industrious group of individuals — wrote a great post recognizing my writing which always makes me puffier than I already am from all that food loving I engage in. He found me on the Technorati Billy Collins trail which I have to check out, being the Billy fan that I am. What an interesting way to be found on the Internet. Kind of like a needle in a haystack. But he found me!

    Thanks for the kudos! And apologies that it’s belated. It’s heartfelt just the same. I will begin my thinking on when and how to pass the recognition along….

  • Weigh-In Methodology: 101

     

     

     

     

     

    Well, it was weigh-in Tuesday this morning and I’ll confess to being open minded about the results Thinner had for me. And while I’m on my knees, I have another confession to make. I always weigh on Monday morning so that I’m prepared for Tuesday. How ridiculous is that? You know, like, I might be less morose or on the verge 24 hours later or something.

    Take into consideration the shenanigans that go on with my weighing-in methodology:

    Before beginning, remove heavy items of bed time attire: (slippers, pajama bottoms and sweatshirt)

    1) Gingerly step onto the scale making sure there is no jolt up to the serious hefty range thereby keeping you from finding out that’s how much you really weigh.

    2) Hold onto the bathroom counter or door frame and then gently release after you’ve stepped onto the scale, thereby easing UP to your real weight. Repeat: Lift…and release — like kegels.

    3) Squat on the scale (so you can see it without having to get your glasses) and try to balance long enough to see which line you are on before falling backwards onto the tile.

    4) After getting back on the scale, do a few little knee bends in rapid succession to jiggle the scale and see if it gets stuck on a lower number.

    5) Take a flying leap onto the scale to see if it can be shocked into submission.

    6) Record the final products of all of the above, add them, and divide by five.

    It looks like I can only claim a total six pound loss at this point. It’s hard to tell with my stupid scale. That means I’m still in the two pounds a week range, which is what I’m shooting for on the Phoodplan. Nothing exhilarating–just satisfying. I know some of you are still saying, “Why bother?” and I’m remembering that old tale about the Tortoise and the Hare. I’ll get there slowly but surely and pay attention to the non-numerical benefits of weight loss I’m learning:

    • Large cotton unmentionables fit a bit better in stretchy jeans now;
    • My knees don’t ache as much climbing the stairs to the office;
    • When pounding the streets, my shins no longer burn in agony;
    • Four miles + 45 minutes = sweat like a hog
    • I have duped myself into thinking that 3 orange or cherry-flavored prunes are candy and savor their juicy sweetness nightly;
    • A 2 oz. shot of red wine in lime-flavored mineral water tastes absolutely disgusting; and
    • If you add orange juice to this, the taste improves, but what’s the point because the whole concept is pathetic. And yes, I drank the whole glass.

    Have I strayed from the Phoodplan? Not too badly. I have walked an average of five days each week (not seven) and have walked about 40 miles in three weeks!

    I drink two cups of coffee (not one) and I’m feeling that caffeine buzz daily as I merrily update my blogs.

    Portion control is going well, but it’s challenging to fit all that pasta in that small bowl unless I mash it with the back of a wooden spoon.

    Wine on the weekends has been more than two 4 oz. glasses on two days — but not horrifically more (we haven’t resorted to straws in bottles again, yet).

    And there will be more partying in Paradise this weekend for Easter. I haven’t figured out what Jesus has to do with parties and drinking wine…Oh, wait…“Bless me Jesus for I have sinned…” but know that it will be consumed, making it easier to filter out the crying baby and howling toddlers in our extended family. “Help me, Je-sus, Help me!”

    Trick.

  • Getting Fit

    The diet gods heard my roar yesterday. All of them. No, it isn’t miraculous — just simple logic. Stupid scale + stupid glasses (sensible food + 6 days of exercise) = respectable 3-4 lb. loss. I can live with that as long as that black skinny line on Thinner keeps nudging down the dial each Tuesday when I weigh in. Why Tuesday? Because I had to have a better attitude today than I did yesterday, or else. Now, I’ll settle in and look forward to two (count them carefully or you might miss them) TWO practical lbs. each week until June 1st which seems like it’s at the end of a very long yawn — mostly because of the wine deprivation. However,  I still have endless horizons in the food department to keep me interested. Are you feeling sorry for the Master of the House (MOH) and RT? They’ll survive and eat well also. No shriveled up taste buds in this hacienda.

    • In the godforsaken department of being perky about of this, here is my list of good things about my food plan:
    • I will have fewer hot flashes at night (more exercise, no hardly any wine, reduced caffeine) and I’ll believe this when Hell freezes over.
    • I will lose weight.
    • I will no longer have a hitch in my giddy up when climbing my stairs.
    • The MOH’s car won’t scrape on the speed bump near our community gate when RT and I are sitting on the same side of the car.
    • I will be able to fit into last spring/summer clothes better than I did last spring/summer or the one before that, or…
    • I will effectively deprive the neighbors of knowing and strike fear in their hearts, that I no longer have the recycler with the loudest clanking (two weeks of wine bottles) in the cul-de-sac as the recycling truck dumps it from a high altitude–or, from its mechanical arm, suspended above its large metallic bin.
    • My body will be drunk on nutrients and slap happy on phytochemicals like beta-sitosterol and carotenoids or chlorogenic acid.
    • My refrigerator’s veggie drawer will no longer have that science experiment gone awry look to it, lacking peppers growing fur, and cucumbers reduced to bottom sludge.
    • I will look great.

    Yesterday when the sun finally decided to come out and warm things up to a modest 66 degrees, I diligently went for my walk. Since I don’t have one of those pedometers, I took the time to get in my car after returning from my walk to measure the distance. Yes, gasoline is well over three dollars a gallon, but I was going to the store anyway, so that counts as multi-tasking. My walking route is 2.8 miles! Go figure. And I achieved my goal of spending 50 instead of 30 minutes walking. Unfortunately, I’m still having cramps in my lower legs and it is annoying. Is it my shoes? Am I walking too fast? Is it the inclines, my stride, all of the above?

    I overcame this trauma by taking along my handy little camera, feigning ignorance when I noticed a few suburbanites who had paused while retrieving their trash cans wondering, “What is that thing in her hand? Why would she be taking pictures? Is there a law suit at hand? Who’s her attorney?” The camera was a pleasant diversion, so I’ll have to take it more often.