Ha ha. Pretty soon this will be me.
OKAY! Now it IS ME! I’m officially a food blogger who totes camera to every meal!! Follow it here…..
It’s been great having Mary from A Merry Life here for the past few days. Not only is she great company, she’s a great blogger and I’ve been very interested (okay, Fascinated. Okay, OBSESSED!) with her particular type of food blogging. She remarked recently that she wasn’t into Weight Watchers because she couldn’t see keeping track of points and stuff, and that made me laugh because she is MUCH more disciplined about tracking her food than most WW members I know (including myself): she takes pictures of every single food she eats. I knew she did this, because I follow her blog, but I was really interested and fascinated in the whole process. So the first meal we ate together, I was like, “Are you going to take a picture now? Are you? Are you??”
In the morning, I set out a whole bunch of breakfast ingredients and then waited for Mary to choose, prepare and then photograph her breakfast. What would she pick? How would she photograph it? Now we’ve shared quite a number of meals together and I think her process is a great one. And I totally recommend it for anyone who wants to be accountable, who doesn’t maybe want to count or write things down.
Because I’ve noticed that these are the things that are necessary to do this kind of food-diary-via-photos:
- You have to be honest. There it is, the amount, the real stuff, whatever it is.
- It’s an amazing way of being accountable.
- It’s an art form. I love watching the way Mary arranges the elements just so on her plate.
- I think it has to REALLY curb compulsive eating. I mean you have to really be deliberate, and make that decision. I AM GOING TO EAT THIS.
- For people who photograph then BLOG their food, 100x the accountability!
So I’ve been just really fascinated and impressed and just really interested in this whole aspect of food tracking. I like it. I love taking picture and I love food (duh) and I think tracking is important. Do I have the discipline to do this? Would I really take a photograph of a big huge spoon of peanut butter before I eat it? Hmmm. Something to think about for sure.
At any rate, I am having a great time with Mary. We’ve been exploring a lot of places around San Francisco, and I’ve been introducing her to new adventures in food. She’s had her first taste of Indian food, and her first rabbit-shaped shrimp dumpling. I am not sure if we can cram it all in but I’m hoping to introduce her to Ethiopian and Burmese and Moroccan food while she is here.
We’re getting in tons of activity too (thank GOODNESS). Today we hiked at least 5 miles in and around Muir Woods. We did a 5k with a bunch of WW folks on Friday. Tomorrow I think I hit the gym.
Portrait of an articulated skeleton on a bentwood chair
Originally uploaded by Powerhouse Museum Collection
Well, if my first solo performance show was a little bit like getting up on stage naked, my next show is going to be like taking my skin right off. It feels uber naked. But also important.
This piece is a continuation of the show I developed this spring, and includes a bunch of outtakes from my original. I was just trying to jam too much into that first show, so it got pared down to my diabetes diagnosis and subsequent return to Weight Watchers, to blogging and couch to 5k.
THIS piece is what I’m calling the Underbelly of how I came to gain that weight in the first place. It’s an exploration of emotional eating. Because I felt like to just focus on Weight Watchers and running as the “cure-all” left a lot of the story out. This is the rest of the story – of how that emotional eating began, and how I worked to get away from its grip.
It’s intense stuff, man. I feel really vulnerable. But at the same time, I feel like putting this out there is really important. Because it’s not a simple manner of counting calories/points and getting in a bit more exercise. It’s a lot more complicated than that.
I absolutely adore my Solo Performance Workshop group – my gifted, brilliant teacher and my amazing classmates. I feel utterly safe with them and know they are going to support me as well as PUSH me to make this the most amazing show ever.
For anyone who’ll be around these parts, this performance will be debuting on Monday, August 9th, 7pm at Stagewerx Theater in San Francisco. As always, or perhaps more than ever, I’d love supportive audience members!
So today was a great day. TODAY was the Goalaversary of my WW BFF, Bethany. And as our celebration for today we agreed to meet at the Cupkates truck, which by miraculous coincidence happened to be parking one block away from my office at lunchtime! Normally this is my big busy work day and I only have a short time at midday.
We were very excited about this plan. We both love cupcakes. And I loved that we, as two dedicated WW leaders (she for THREE YEARS at goal, me at one year) could enjoy this treat to the utmost. Proving once again that Weight Watchers is about living and not dieting.
I also had my diabetes to contend with, so I made a point of testing my blood right in front of the truck. It was a good number. I got there a few minutes after the truck and already there was a long line. Word had spread (through Twitter and Facebook!) and there was already quite a line.
This was actually good because it gave us a chance to study the menu and ponder what we would pick. Although it wasn’t a super hard choice for me. I knew I wanted Salted Caramel. Bethany picked S’mores. In the end I decided to buy one of each and bring them back to the office to share with my co-workers. They’re not what you would call a partying bunch of folks so I knew it would be a big surprise.
Finally it was our turn. We were so excited! We got to meet CupKate herself, who not only is happy and cute (does she not have the world’s BEST JOB? Driving around selling cupcakes to people, and making them awesomely happy??), but she was wearing this adorable CupKates hoodie which I am now madly coveting.
We got our cupcakes and then went to sit in my building’s lobby to enjoy them. And ENJOY WE DID. First we gazed lovingly at each cupcake. We affirmed our personal choices and then we… ate them! (for the record, I ate half of mine, mostly because I was concerned re the sugar) They were…. AMAZING. DELICIOUS. MOIST. HEAVENLY. INCREDIBLE. Yeah. Definitely the best cupcake I had ever eaten. Totally worth the 4 points I’m assuming it was (for half the cupcake).
SO SO GOOD.
Happily, my blood sugar had started out so low, it stayed good even 45 minutes and 2 hours after the cupcake. So that was great. But I started getting reallllllllllllly hungry around 3pm. And I had no food. BOY did I want protein. But I had to go lead my WW meeting. Did not get out until almost 8, at which point I was not a happy camper, hungerwise. (note to self: carry protein!)
I went to the middle Eastern restaurant near my house. I got these ginormous plate of STUFF and immediately snarfed down the hard boiled egg and hummus. Then I picked at the salad and had a little triangle of pita and I was done.
So… the cupcake was fantastic. But it’s not what I would call lunch.
I’m so happy we did this. I really am. Because it was probably the most MINDFUL cupcake eating experience I ever had. I loved loved loved not feeling guilty about one crumb of it. I planned for it. (what I didn’t plan for so well was the rest of the day after that) I savored it. I loved it! And I am not worried that half a cupcake is going to send me over any edge. It didn’t. Happiness all around, yay for cupcakes and yay for us!!
A while back I joked (sort of) on Twitter that “If I lived alone I would work out all the time and eat broccoli for dinner every night.” I was sort of kidding.
But now I’m going to have an Empty Nest for THREE WEEKS and that means… well, tonight I had an evening workout, I had broccoli and cauliflower for dinner, and nobody cared!
Having a young family definitely impacts one’s ability to exercise and eat what one might eat on one’s own. Of course I have to remember that when I lived on my own, in my twenties, it often meant snarfing down boxes of Kraft mac and cheese (in those days 1 box = one serving) and cartons of Haagen Dasz. Living alone doesn’t guarantee healthy habits, I know that.
But my kid likes to have real meals and I do not blame her. She likes the way I cook, and she isn’t thrilled with YOYO (you’re on your own) dinners or dinners that Dad throws together when I’m out at Weight Watchers in the evenings. So I try to pull it together to cook a Real Meal a few times a week at least.
Mr. McBody is not overly attached to Real Meals. He acknowledges the effort I put in to them but he is just as happy with a can of black eyed peas or a vegi burger. He’s not picky. My mom is also pretty easy going.
So now, these days, it’s just us three. Every night can be a YOYO night if I want it to be!
I remember back when my eldest was about a year old. Her godmother, my good friend, came and lived with us for a few months. She’d get up and go running in the hills whenever she felt like it. I used to watch her go off and feel such longing for the freedom she had. Of course, she probably would’ve been happy to watch her godchild while *I* went running but I had no such desire. I remember taking one or both kids to the daycare place at the gym. After a while it just seemed like too much hassle, all of it. Activity came to become painful and unpleasant, so much so that I dreaded going to the playground because it made me so exhausted. Even to get up and push my kid on a swing. That makes me so sad now. I mean I did it – I logged in a thousand hours in playgrounds – but it felt like running a marathon every time.
So I totally understand when moms with young kids just throw in the towel. And I am completely awestruck and boggled by healthy moms like MizFit who do not see parenthood as an excuse to become a couch potato (as I did for many, many, many MANY years) – in fact who sees it as an imperative to be as active and joyful as possible. (um, can I have a do-over please?)
These days, nobody needs a ride home. Nobody needs to have their favorite chicken pot pie for dinner. I’m gonna work late, I’m gonna work out, and I’m gonna give her a big hug when she finally gets back.
So I’ve been virtually at the same weight for almost a year now. YAY.
And now that it’s been a year, I’ve been pondering/musing/obsessing over the idea of changing my goal weight. Ie, trying to lose the “last ten.”
I have some major ambivalent feelings about it. But it’s been on my mind a lot. It’s sort of like declaring a major, you know? It’s a commitment. And it’s not something I want to commit to unless I am sure.
Why do I/would I want to do this? Well. A few reasons. One, I’m beginning to realize that I’m not quite as fit and trim as I used to think I was. I mean, for much of the past two decades I would have DIED of HAPPINESS to be at my current weight. In fact, it did not even seem remotely in the realm of possibility. In fact, it did not even seem possible to weigh what my driver’s license says. (which is 13 pounds more than my current weight)
But now I’ve been hanging out here for a year. It’s good. It’s fine. I wear clothes that range from size 4 to size 12. (and yeah, I fit into all of them. How crazy is that) Also clothes that range from size S to L. I’m within a “normal” BMI. But that’s the thing. I’m very close to the ceiling of that range. Once or twice I’ve come close to hitting my head on it.
I weigh 10 lbs more than I did on my wedding day. I was hardly SKINNY on that day. I was like, regular.
I still have something of a spare tire. I still can grab large handfuls of belly fat, wayyyyy more than “pinching an inch.” I know that belly fat of any kind is not good for one’s health, and especially for diabetic people. So I think the less of that I have, the better. It’s never gonna be flat and i’m never wearing a bikini again. (those days were over 35 yrs ago)
Is it health? (a little) Is it vanity? A little. Is it a combination? Yeah.
That’s what I’m struggling with. I have problems with vanity dieting. Which I have said before. At the same time, I cannot deny the pleasure of shopping for and finding cute clothes that fit me. So vanity has become a weird part of my life.
It is weird when people MY HEIGHT come in to Weight Watchers. They weigh the same as me. Or LESS than me. And they are all, “UGH! GROSSSS! HOW DID I EVER GET TO THIS POINT!?” We are trained to be supportive of every member no matter their height or goal, as long as it is within the Healthy Range. But inside I am cringing and thinking, this person will never have faith in me. How can I be a leader or role model when they are so freaked out to be MY weight? I don’t say a thing. I support them. But still.
I’m never going to be at the bottom of the range. I don’t know if I will ever even be in the middle. No, I don’t think that’s in the cards either. But if I could get my head just a little fraction of a distance away from that ceiling, it would probably be a good thing.
The thing is, I’m nervous. (as if you couldn’t tell) I’m afraid of upsetting the apple cart, tipping the boat, you name it. I’ve actually gotten pretty comfortable with maintenance and I am afraid to get back onto the weight-loss road again. What if I fail? What if I try to lose and end up GAINING because I’ve put too much pressure on myself? What if I can’t do it? And my head goes smashing through the ceiling AND the roof?
All these things make me ponder. Should I let sleeping dogs lie? Should I make peace with my belly fat? Should I Go For It? (losing the last ten)
I know that people will probably have all sorts of ideas about this. And at the same time, I know that the only person who can ultimately answer this question is me.
I knew this weekend would be challenging, but I was not exactly sure how. In looking back on this past few days, I look at the ups and downs, the many small choices and challenges I faced, and what I learned from it.
I went into the weekend feeling I had not much wiggle room to spare. I wanted to come out of it maintaining where I was at before I went in. I’m not going to weigh myself until tomorrow or maybe even the next day.
Friday morning: Got up in the dark to get to the airport. Had coffee. Got to airport and headed straight to Starbucks for my new favorite breakfast, Perfect Oatmeal. It was perfect. Good way to start the day. Got onto plane #1. Slept. I am grateful that not only am I “able” to sleep on planes; in fact, a plane seat hits me like a tranquilizer gun and I immediately pass out into a deep, drooling coma the instant I feel the wheels lift off. I think this has something to do with a period when I was deathly afraid of flying and I literally learned to hypnotize myself into sleep so that I would not freak out. I don’t freak out so much anymore, but I think it’s because I’m passed out.
Layover: Las Vegas airport. We only had 10 minutes before boarding the next flight and I ran around frantically trying to find something suitable for carry-on lunch. Seemed there was nothing but Burger King and chocolates. Finally found a place that sold sandwiches. Whole wheat baguette turkey sandwich. 470 calories. With nothing on it! Blech! But I was desperate. Grabbed it. Ate half of it on plane. It was awful but I was very hungry. Had a packet of Ritz cracker cheese sandwiches courtesy of Southwest, which immediately transported me to my children’s unfortunately unhealthy childhoods, where they and I consumed mass quantities of those things. I am addicted to them.
Arrived at destination. Went to hotel gym and spent 45 minutes on elliptical! I was so sweaty and proud of myself, especially after having spent all day in vegetative state on airplanes. Went to awesome hotel restaurant and had a wonderful dinner of 2 deviled eggs, a spinach salad from heaven, and a little bowl of polenta and spinach. That would have been quite fine. It would have been perfect if the evening had ended there, but alas, it did not.
Went to post-rehearsal-pre-wedding reception thingie hosted by groom’s parents. LOVELY home, all catered event. At first all I saw was wine and some platters of strawberries, brownies and cannolis. I was full from dinner and not tempted. I took a teeny nibble from my mother’s brownie & cannoli; both were way too sweet and thought, good, I am home free! Big basket of potato chips. Not tempted. THEN they brought out the gourmet cheese tray thing. I faltered a little. Then I got into a conversation with some relatives who asked some very kind but probing questions about the state of my Writing; something I am NOT feeling good or confident or happy about these days, and the cheese dam just broke. Gorgonzola and Muenster and Brie and baguette slices and some salami rounds and it all just VANISHED into my mouth. I lost my mind. I lost it completely. I actually could not quite believe it, but there it was. Kablooey!
The next morning I woke up with a cheese hangover and….. a severely throbbing ankle. Apparently it had not been super charmed by my killing the elliptical like that, brace or not. I was very sad. I decided not to return to the gym but instead went to a street arts festival with my sister in law. I walked around for several hours, but at a relatively slow pace. Better than nothing, right? Still, my ankle was throbbing even more after that. I took a very brief trip to the gym and tried to find something that did not make it hurt. I did not find anything. I was sad.
I had another spinach salad. (sooo good) Felt fortified for the wedding. Got dressed. Squeezed self into Spanx and then into dress. Went to wedding. Short and sweet, followed by reception. I resisted all appetizers, including another cheese plate (this cheese was not nearly as good as Friday’s). How did I do this? I constantly texted my WW BFF with the choices that lay before me. I sent some pictures. It was actually easy. If only I’d done that during Friday night’s cheese debacle! I gleefully reported how I passed up some deep fried raviolis in little dishes of marinara. Yay me! The wedding dinner itself proved quite easy: seared tuna and snow peas, which I’d pre-ordered. They came with wasabi mashed potatoes, which I did not eat, because that sounded like a horrid combination. Lucky me. Then the cake!! At first I wasn’t going to eat any. Then a little bit. Then I decided that the dinner had been so healthy I could go ahead and have a piece. It wasn’t a very small piece. Later, in the hotel, I looked it up: 16 points! Sixteen points for carrot cake! If only I’d know. Oh, the power of knowledge. Next time I will use my WW iPhone app and figure this out before I lift fork to mouth. If I’d known, I would have had like two bites. Which would’ve been fine.
People told me to DANCE at the wedding, but I really didn’t. This was the first wedding in which I was of the generation older than the wedding couples, and I felt weirdly old fogeyish, my ankle hurt, and my mother (even older than me) realllllly wanted to get out of the loud loud loud venue and go back to the hotel. So we left when the dancing began.
Oh well.
So, today: more drugged sleep-of-the-dead on the plane. More Ritz crackers. Another missed lunch. I was so happy to get home to beautiful unmuggy weather, I pledged to go out and walk. But I did not. I just…… didn’t.
Thus, the weekend got away from me, and I pulled it back, and it was a tug of war back and forth. I don’t know how to score it overall. An overall failure? Overall victory? No. I’d say it was a learning experience.
As we say at WW, it’s either a losing week or a learning week.
I learned:
- prepare/bring lunch for plane ahead of time. Go to grocery, bring something from home, whatever. Make like a Girl Scout and be prepared.
- When in a highly charged emotional situation, TRY to have a moment of consciousness and reach out: Twitter or text a friend who can keep you grounded and away from large quantities of cheese.
- Look up calories/points values of items BEFORE eating so you can at least make an informed decision. I was assuming the carrot cake was about half what it was.
- Get out and take a walk before catching up with Facebook and blogs, or you’ll never go.
So… I probably got a C- in the weight loss/maintenance arena, and maybe a B+ for learning. And, it was a lovely weekend, a beautiful wedding and great to see family for a brief little time.
EPILOGUE: I did not get a C-!!!!!! Just weighed myself (Monday morning) and my weight is…. UNCHANGED! to the ounce! from when I left. Which was my goal. It’s a new day! It’s a new week! YAY!!!!
What business does a diabetic Weight Watchers leader have reading a book that is so filled with butter and chocolate and sugar that it almosts wafts from the pages? I don’t know, but I do know that I could barely put this book down. Thank goodness for the ankle injury and the 3-day weekend that allowed me to finish it this morning.
I loved this book, Cakewalk, by Kate Moses. I LOVED THIS BOOK so much. It’s going on my Top Ten list. And for people who have seen my house and my miles of bookshelves, you’ll know this is saying a lot.
Where do I begin? Well, for one I loved it because it brought my childhood back to me, and in the sensual food-memory way that the madeleine brought Proust back to his. Only it wasn’t anything as delicate and refined as a fancy French cookie, it was her unabashed love for 1960s junk food that made my heart beat faster. And it was the way that she described the Ding Dongs and the Baby Ruths without an ounce of embarrassment or remorse: just, this is what we ate, and it gave us pleasure. She loved the badger Frances books like I did, and especially for the food descriptions: not only the bread and jam, but also ode she sings to Lorna Doone cookies.
Kate Moses is roughly the same age as I am, so reading this book was like a tantalizing time-travel through my own life. It was shocking to squeak out, as I was reading, “Me too!” even down to a bizarre coincidence involving rubber alligator toes. Reading this book was in so many ways like a channeling of my own life.
Each chapter of the book chronicles a different era of Moses’ life, her annual moves to yet another new state, new town, new school. Early on she learns to use her baking skills as a way of making friends, or of comforting herself through some new familial trauma (and there are some doozies). Every chapter ends with some amazingly droolworthy recipe: Chocolate cake, homemade It’s-Its, homemade pink and white animal shortbread cookies (which she brought in a basket to her reading: SO delicious! and exquisite), pecan birthday cake and jam tarts. I swooned and sighed over all of these recipes. (um, except the moose turd “candies”)
Although she mentions being called “fat” by her classmates in a particularly poignant fourth-grade chapter, she doesn’t dwell on this. It’s not about that. So many memoirs of overweight childhoods are drenched in shame and guilt, and this book was refreshingly free of guilt. Which I appreciated so much. It’s about an often terribly painful and confusing, chaotic childhood and youth that is sweetened and soothed by the pleasure of food. It’s about food as a means of connection and community. It’s about becoming a writer, which made my heart pound as much as the cake recipes. It’s a moving chronicle of family and how people change and don’t change, about forgiveness and honesty and redemption. The writing is so, so, good, and I found myself sighing over individual sentences and paragraphs. Like this:
…we bought boxes and boxes of donuts, baker’s dozens, all different flavors. Then we drove up and down the empty streets for hours, fast past the houses of everyone we knew, past our own, all night long, in our high heels and our new high-school graduate outfits, the convertible top down and our hair flying loose and tangling across our faces, eating just one bite of each donut before flinging the rest out of the car. When there were no more donuts, we reached for our silky blue graduation gowns, pulling them out from where we’d tucked them, and we threw them out, too, letting them catch in the wind we were speeding through, sailing them out into the bright lasting night, the northern lights spraying ribbons of color above us, waving like handkerchiefs as the ship leaves its anchorage.
My WW BFF and I have decided to hit the road and seek out other WW meetings to see what other leaders and members are up to. Today we got up at 5:30am to check out an early-morning meeting about 30 miles from us. It was a real experience!!
For one, I have not attended a WW meeting AS A MEMBER in probably 9 months. We staff people are supposed to attend regular meetings but you know, we get so buusyyy and… and… and…
but it’s true, it’s a completely different experience when you’re sitting in a chair than when you’re behind the counter. Completely.
This meeting we attended has a real “rock star” leader we have been very curious about. She has PACKED meeting rooms and has quite a reputation. I have to say that none of my meetings has ever been PACKED. So I wanted to learn her secret.
As it turns out, she was very charismatic. LOTS of energy. Lots of drama. She literally cried twice during the meeting. (apparently her members really appreciate this; I was sort of taken aback) She talked during 90% of the meeting. At extremely high volume. (OK, it felt like yelling to me)
It was really eye-opening. Clearly she has a MASSIVE following. Clearly it works for them/her. I had a lot to think about. There were some valuable things I learned at the meeting that I will take with me and incorporate. Other things, not so much.
But it was valuable to go back in sit in those chairs. To remember what it feels like. To soak it in from THAT perspective. I’ll be doing more of this.
foodfoodbodybody 