Monday, July 25, 2011

I eat too much

I am overweight.  Here it is.  I am 135 lbs.  That may not seem like a lot, and it is not, but I am only 5’ tall.  Ok I am just barely 5’ tall and that 135 swells up to 137 on some days. I was not always overweight.  As a matter of fact I was pretty damn tiny most of my life. I started doing gymnastics at the age of 5 and was competing by the age of 7.  I was a competitive gymnast for 11 years.  I should have gone on to compete in college, but that is another story.  I always ate what I wanted when I wanted.  I even continued to eat like that long after I was no longer an athlete.  It did not really catch up to me until my mid to late 20s.  
Since I was an athlete I had about 2% body fat. (I know this because they checked our body fat and weight monthly at one of the gyms I competed for.)  Therefore, I really could stand to have gained a few pounds. When I was 18 I weighed about 90 lbs.  Over the next 10 years I went up to about 117-120 lbs, which was comfortable.  It took another 10 years for me to get to where I am today. So if I continue on this path by the age of 48 I will be about 157 lbs. That is not good, especially since the older you get the harder it is for your body to deal with poor health.  And that is what this is, poor health. 
When I do exercise for more than a week, I instantly start to feel better.  Even if the scale only moves by a pound or two, things start fitting better, my mind is clearer and I am generally happier.  But here is the real problem.  I EAT TOO MUCH!  
Perfect example, just yesterday, I was really trying to eat healthy all day.  Raw fruits and veggies, limiting the carbs, yada, yada, yada, yada.  Then, everyone was in bed.  I was finally alone and had nothing to do but kibitz on facebook, check e-mail and research the latest potty training techniques for my 3 yr. old.  I logged off about 11:15 pm and take my laptop back to the kitchen to plug it into the charger for the evening.  Before I know it I have polished off 3 bowls of Cherrios, 4 slices of deli cheese and 2 cheese sticks while watching “Watch What Happens, Live with Andy Cohen.”  
The entire time I am eating I am thinking “What are you doing, you are NOT hungry!  STEP AWAY FROM THE CHEESE!  You will never lose any weight this way. What are you hiding from with this food...... OH Shut the F--- up! Who the F--- cares, what am I, in a fashion show? Who gives a shit how I look?  This cheese is not gonna make one bit of difference in my waistline at this point.”  This dialogue happens a lot. More often than I care to admit and can’t believe I am putting this out there like I am.  But I have an eating problem. I eat when I am sad, angry, frustrated and stressed.  I also eat when I am happy, bored, socializing, procrastinating, or don’t want to do laundry.  I eat to make myself feel good. ‘How’s that workin’ out for ya?  Shut your stupid mouth Dr. Phil!!’ (I also have an ongoing dialogue with stupid Dr. Phil in my head.  Sorry you had to see that.)   
I really like food.  Carbohydrates are my drug of choice.  If I could, I would eat an entire loaf of crusty Italian bread, with my large bowl of linguine, topped with gravy (that is tomato sauce for all you ‘medigans) and Locatelli cheese.  My stomach is growling as I am typing.  It is pitiful.  I also like cheese.  I also have a problem with eating cereal, bagels, soft pretzels and pizza.  I do love to cook, probably because it gives me an excuse to eat.  If I am doing all that work I might as well enjoy the fruits of my labor, right?  So what is the solution?  I know what the solution is, START EATING RIGHT!  I know how to do that. I am educated enough to know what to incorporate into my diet to help me get the proper nutrients.  I know I should not eat when I am not hungry, or eat late at night, or overindulge.  I need to drink more water and limit my carbs. I have read all the books about only eating at the table with no TV or distractions, putting the fork down between each bite, drinking 2 glasses of water with your meal etc.   I know all these things but it has not gotten me to DO them.  
The only time I ever succeeded in watching what I ate, was when I had gall stones and had to wait a month to get them out.  For that month I could not consume ANY fat what so ever.  NONE, if I did not want to have another gall bladder attack.  The fear of that pain coming back, was the only thing that kept me from eating what I wanted. I dropped 15 lbs. The only other time I lost weight was when I was physically sick with the worst stomach bug I had ever had, and when I suffered from panic attacks for over a week.  Either time I could not keep anything in me.  I also gave up iced tea (which I drank a LOT of) when I got kidney stones.  I have not touched a glass since I was diagnosed 3 years ago.  Again, to avoid pain, I changed my diet.  So what does this tell me?  The only will power I have is the will power to avoid pain?  I guess, but what about exercising? I like it, once I get started, but there is always something that stops me from going and I fall right back into my comfy cozy rut.  I wonder what stops me from exercising?.... hmmmm..... Oh, I know...  ME!!!
So there are people starving all over the nation (and the world) and I am bitching because I eat too much!  It’s inexcusable. I am sick of hearing myself talk about it. So any psycho-analysts out there?  Wanna diagnose me then tell me the magic words that will make me change my diet, appreciate my food and make me take care of my body?  Anyone.... Anyone....  Bueller....Bueller.....Bueller

Saturday, July 9, 2011

My Bad Ass Kids

They are rude, disruptive, selfish, inconsiderate and think of no one but themselves.  They are unappreciative.  They don’t care if you are tired and want to sleep.  They don’t care if you are sick and need to rest.  They don’t care if you are hungry and need to eat.  It is all about them and what they want and when they want it.  It is exhausting, its the part of parenting that I really hate. My children, the loves of my life, who make me happy beyond words can really be a pain in the ass.  
What is it about 6:20am that is so friggin appealing to my 7 yr. old?  Why in the name of all that is holy, does he insist on waking up at this time.  Not only waking up but waking up anyone who is in the house.  I guess I wouldn’t be all that infuriated if we were home by ourselves, and it was only affecting me.  However we are on vacation, staying with my parents in the house that they very graciously rented.  We are staying here for free.  We are in paradise, enjoying the wonder and beauty of Hawaii and these little brats go on like nothing has changed.   There should be no whining or complaining.  I know, what am I doing?  Complaining, and these are my kids whom I created. But this is my blog.  
Can no consideration be paid to ANY one?  I must be doing something wrong.  They are so rude and unappreciative that this must be my punishment for not effectively teaching my children properly.  When the 7 yr. old is throwing a fit because things are not going exactly as he wants them to, I tell him he has to start being thankful and appreciative.  The answer he gives me... “for what?”  FOR WHAT!?  For the fact that I am not beating you right now, for your every breath of which I have afforded you, for this beautiful vacation, for not belittling you, for allowing you to voice your opinion, for letting you enjoy a structured and balanced life!   OH I could go on, but it does no good.  He really doesn’t understand.  When he is calm and I talk to him about the feelings of others, and how he can treat others like he wants to be treated, he seems to get it.  But when he is tired, hungry, tired and hungry, frustrated or not feeling well, there is no getting through.  But there I go, making excuses.  Tired, hungry, he has to learn to deal with life in these situations, doesn’t he?  My 3 yr. old is almost as bad, but he is only 3.  Again, is that an excuse? See I get tired just thinking about it. 
Here is an example.  Not even a great example.  Just the straw that broke the camel’s back.  We are at a museum today, and they gave out free coloring books.  Somehow the 3 yr. old’s coloring book was left at the museum.  I noticed it an hour later when we were already on to another adventure.  I said nothing and hoped that he would not notice.  As we are getting into the car the 7 year old inquires as to where the 3 yr. old’s book is.  I try to quiet him, but he continues even louder so that the 3 yr. old gets wind of it.  Now we are having a meltdown.  I try to temper my anger, by reminding myself that he was just looking out for his little brother and may not have understood that I wanted him to keep his mouth shut.  After everyone is settled and it is forgotten about the 7 yr. old, goes on to tell us that he wanted to know about his little brother’s book because he did not want to share his.  OMFG  It was forgotten about.  Now the 3 yr. old is reminded of the fact not only does he not have his own book, but that his selfish older brother doesn’t want to share his!  Another meltdown ensues.  Here is where I really want to impose a good old 1970s style whoop ass.  A pull the car over, yank em out of the back seat, take off the belt and beat some ass.  OK, I recovered, no need to call Child Protective Services,  this did not happen.  Instead, I turn around give “the look” and definitively yell “That. Is. Enough.”  Honestly, I don’t even know what that means, but it seems to work more than not, so I use it when I can.  
So those are my bad ass kids.  I really love them and I am forever trying to set a structure and boundaries.  I want to raise happy AND respectful children.  Really, I do.   It is difficult at times.  Just when I have had enough, I then listen in on them as they share the bedroom on our vacation.  The little one says “I scared”  the big one says, “will it make you feel better if I sleep next to you?”  Little one says “Yes, Thank You.”  It is quiet for a minute and the little one says “You are my best buddy, I love you”  the big one says “ I love you too.”  ((sigh)) I have wonderful and amazing children.  All is right with the world. 

Monday, July 4, 2011

To my Brother and his new Wife

I have been to many weddings in my life.  The first one I remember was my Uncle Bill’s.  I was about 4 or 5 years old and I wore a brown velvet dress.  I remember being very excited and dancing, trying to be the center of attention; my pop-pop egging me on.  The next one was around the same time.  My cousin, who was a year older, was supposed to be the flower girl.  She was too scared and they asked me to step in.  I walked up the isle with pride, ordering the ring bearer to slow down throughout the procession. 

I write all this, from Hawaii, where my younger brother lives.  We just attended his wedding to his beautiful bride and I couldn’t be happier for them.  Hawaii, is one of the most magical places in the world.  Certainly the most magical place I have ever been to.  Marriage requires a little bit of magic along with the love and the work. I have been to so many weddings throughout my life. All were joyous and fun occasions in their own right.  Some of the marriages lasted some did not.  But the actual weddings are all so full of promise and an innocent naivetĂ© of what it takes for a marriage to work.  

When my husband and I got married 10 years ago, we had already lived together for about 3 years.  We had already worked out some of the minor kinks that most newlyweds go through in the first years of marriage.  You know, do we wait to pay bills until the last minute or pay ahead of time, do we sleep on the left or the right side of the bed and do these positions remain or can they be switched, who cooks/cleans up meals, how do we divi up household chores, what religion if any are we, do we practice our religion, how much alone time do each of us need.  Each marriage works these things out in their own way (or they don’t.)  

The thing that changes after the wedding vows are spoken and we have recovered from our wedding hangover is something more ethereal.  You realize you are a part of something larger, something your own but part of a multicultural, multinational, institution.  What makes your union so special to last the test of time?  The answer is and isn’t: Love.  Love has to be the base, the cornerstone and the core.  The rest is a lot of hard work, mostly on yourself.  You have to start figuring out who you are and why you are the way you are, in relation to your spouse. You have to be patient with your spouse while they figure this out for themselves.  You then have to form who the two of you are now, together. Learning what it means to be a spouse, give and take, push and pull, yin and yang.... all these cliche’s are out there.  The bottom line is you have to give each other and yourself a break.  It is not going to be all seamless and effortless.  That is not how lasting relationships work.  Be patient and sincerely care for the other like you want to be cared for.  Some days it comes back 10 fold some days not at all and that is ok.  As long as there is reciprocation at some point. The only thing that is effortless and continual is your love for one another.  My little brother and his new bride are just beginning this journey.  Although it is work and there is effort involved, it is the most rewarding and fun work you will ever do. Each marriage is as unique as the people in them and it can be the one thing in your life that is truly your own.  So, to my brother and his new wife, Mazel tov, Mabuhay, Salute, Sláinte, Jambo, Okole maluna!