Keeping the Tank Topped Off

Today I was running from one meeting to another, and the temptation to eat junk in between venues was great, especially since I missed my regularly scheduled lunch time.

My morning started off pretty typical. I grabbed a banana as I left the house and packed a cup of leftover cream of wheat to eat in the office. This may seem like a weird leftover, but I’m always looking for ways to do more with less; in this case time. I made a pot of cream of wheat yesterday morning, and quite frankly, I thought it equaled one serving, but I decided to measure it to see if my eyes were in line with a reasonable portion. Yikes, it was double what I would have estimated.

The goo was a little stiff this morning, but I mashed it up before I nuked it, tossed in some over-ripe pear slices and drizzled a bit of honey on top. It was actually pretty tasty, and it stuck with me for a good three hours.

I had hoped that in between meetings, I would be able to hit the Y for a Pilate’s class so I crammed a protein bar in my pocket before heading out the door. Fast forward two hours and I had just enough time to grab a small handful of almonds and an apple before my next appointment. So far, so good. When I got back to my desk, a colleague needed to catch me up on a project while I munched on a salad that I had thrown together, which included another leftover – grilled mahi mahi.

Lyle called about 4 p.m. to see if I wanted to meet him for a beer, which I happily agreed, but knew I better eat something before to keep what few remaining brain cells I had after a busy day from falling out of my head at the first gulp of an oatmeal stout. I slurped down a half cup of cottage cheese before I walked to my car, but then I missed my exit and decided to come on home.

I was tired and a little cranky when I walked in the door and too hungry to put any thought into dinner, but I remembered the leftover chicken and noodles that I made this weekend. It was pretty similar to this recipe. I stir fried some veggies to bulk up the meal and was good to go.

I feasted on a day of leftovers, and I have to say, I’m pretty damn happy about it. I know some people refuse to eat anything twice, but these kinds of meals stretch my time in ways that are invaluable. Most importantly, they help me stay in control when I feel my emotional tank sputter from lack of willpower. What little tricks do you employ to help keep you in control?

Slippery Confrontations

I went to the gym the other day for a tryst with the elliptical and to confront the showers again. Since my foray with the extreme fitness class a few weeks ago, I have been taking it easy at the gym to give my knees a rest; yoga and Pilates don’t generate enough sweat to make a shower really necessary.

As I worked out on the machine, I contemplated a potential mental stretching exercise. I wanted to again try getting completely undressed before I headed into the shower. I’d tried this early in my experiment, but it made me so squirmy that I nearly abandoned the whole test. Was I limber enough to give it another shot? There was also someone standing in my locker row while I disrobed so my mind was going to get the full Monty along with the lady standing next to me. Hell, I even talked to her while I slipped off my grunders.

It was not a walk in the park as people say, but I have to acknowledge that I didn’t feel too horribly squirmy as I dropped my drawers and wrapped that too short of a towel around the majority of my parts.

I thought about my progress and gave myself a mental atta girl as I headed to the showers. I questioned if this process was more about practicing nakedness. As I lathered, I wondered if the key had been in the Nike tagline all along, Just Do it. I felt all proud and empowered, and then it happened.

The soap slipped out of my hand and shot out beneath the shower stall well beyond my reach. No one else was in earshot to kick the soap back to me. Should I just rinse and call the shower complete? Should I use the liquid soap mounted on the wall or make do with my shampoo? Fuck it. I liked my Dove bar and I wanted it back.

I carefully made my way out of the shower stall so I wouldn’t slip. I really didn’t want to end up sprawled out on the floor with a broken back waiting for a squad to arrive. I’m afraid that kind of stretch would have induced a serious mental strain, but I exited the safety zone of my shower, sans a towel, to retrieve what was mine, but couldn’t quite keep a hold of. I made it back without incident (or coming into contact with another human being)

Triumph. I did it and no one was the wiser – except me.

I realized that practicing the art of being naked for the past couple months has helped. I may not be ready to streak across the football field during halftime of the Super Bowl or even moon someone at a drunken party, but I have made progress. Confronting my fears even in a small way is helping.

Lyle smiled when I recounted the event. I’m not sure if it was because the story was really that funny or he had never thought about being that uncomfortable with nakedness given the fact that he walks in front of our bay window in all his glory from time to time without a second thought.

Regardless, it was progress for me, and I realized that when I went to the gym yesterday, I was a little less uncomfortable standing there in front of my locker, saggy boobs and all, than I had been the day before.

I don’t always see growth as it happens. Mostly, I recognize it as I emerge on the other side, but it’s nice once in a while when I see movement in a positive direction. When is the last time you’ve noticed personal triumph, even a small one?

Agenda? Forget About It

Yesterday, I had planned to take off by myself with a camera, but we needed to shop for dishwashers, which was oh so much more fun. But you see, our dishwasher had developed a bad case leprosy; pieces and parts were falling off on a daily basis, and it had also developed an aversion to actually cleaning the dishes.

Shopping for appliances generally induces colorful arguments in the Fast household, but Lyle had done all the research, and even though he ruined my plans, ah, surprised me with a new opportunity, it went pretty well. He had all the places plotted where we needed to compare prices, and then I took care of negotiations. We are the proud owners of a shiny new dishwasher to be delivered this coming week.

Since I didn’t get to do my thing yesterday, I set out today with a camera fully intending to take pictures of barns. Don’t ask me why I felt the need to shoot barns, but it was between that and cemeteries. (I think I was channeling my Gram on that one.) I did sneak into one cemetery and saw this – hoping no one is on the run.

I didn’t have much luck with the barns, but once I got home I did manage to take some photos of an orchid plant that I received for my birthday in February. It’s a small miracle the thing is still alive given my track record with house plants. When my friend gave it to me, I thanked her profusely and promised to try not to kill it. That was the most I had hoped. I really only gave it about a two-week chance, but for now it’s thriving. See for yourself.

It was good to take an afternoon and simply do something for me without a timeline or any real agenda. What do you like to do for fun?

Idle Locker Room Chatter

It’s been a little while since I reported on my foray into the locker room. Last week, I worked out at home most of the week, but I got back to the gym and decided that my goal would be to talk to people as I got undressed.

It was a good challenge given the fact that I have been taking yoga and Pilate’s classes that include removing my bra to put on a stretchy yoga top that won’t fly up over my head as I hold the downward dog pose.

Maybe it matters only to me, but I’ve noticed my comfort level decreases exponentially when confronted with buff women getting dressed or undressed right beside me. I cannot say that I’m entirely comfortable standing in my skivvies next to someone who has at least 50 pounds on me; however, conversation seems to be a tad easier with the latter, and that doesn’t sit well with me either.

As I stood there trying to push through some idle conversation, I noticed another woman come in who by anyone’s standards would be very skinny. Even just that term makes me squirm. Would she see herself as skinny or would it be one more label that I toss out into the universe that provides a horrible description of women.

I talked and let’s face it, looked. Even people who look very thin in clothes seem to house lumps and bumps that we would grimace upon seeing on a tabloid magazine at the grocery checkout. A body, naked ones in particular, are just pretty damn goofy looking, which makes me question even more my struggles with accepting my own.

Sure I want to improve myself. Build muscle. Reduce flab. Increase stamina. However, when is enough, enough?

As I looked at the very thin woman getting dressed, she didn’t seem any more comfortable in her skin as I am in mine, and the woman right next to me who was larger than me wasn’t any more upset or at ease than any of the rest of us. I will say that the instructor who has a locker right next to mine seems to be about as comfortable as anyone, or at least she does a pretty good job faking it. She has a great body, but not perfect.

I think I shared in an earlier body-image rant that I want to be comfortable enough in my skin to one day moon someone. I know it seems like a perverse goal to hold, but I want to be able to do it without judgment. It occurs to me, however, that maybe I’m the only one with the gavel, and I’m not sure how to make peace with it. I started this little experiment by just taking a photo of my hand. This evening I wanted to add a picture to the roll. I couldn’t even fall back on the toes, given the long winter months sans-pedicure so I opted for a photo of the dog’s belly. She seemed fine with the idea.

I will say that the more I stand around naked (or nearly so) in the locker room, the less uncomfortable I seem to be. Is that enough movement in a positive direction?

PLAN FOR FUN?

I find photography fun.

Sometimes I think it seems selfish to focus on fun. I don’t know if it is a leftover puritanical thing or if I feel guilty if I have too much of it. Is it even possible to have too much fun as long as I’m not abusing my body?

It seems absurd to even put that in writing for all to see, but I get caught up sometimes in the responsibility and obligations of life. Today seemed like a perfect escape. The day was full of fun stuff. I spent it with a group of people I adore, had brunch with a bunch who keep me grounded and then hung out with a dear friend as we browsed at the gem and jewelry show. We ate an early dinner at Tip Top and then slurped down a latte at Café Brioso (definitely fun).

I wrapped up a really stressful week at work, but that was fun too. I conquered new challenges, and it felt good to stretch and feel appreciated, which really made me look at the power that my overall attitude has on my general well being.

It sounds a little too Pollyanna to talk about focusing on the positive or faking it until you make it or any number of those fucking upbeat idioms that I hear. But what about plain old fun? I like fun. That sounds childish, but maybe that is what I was missing a few weeks ago.

Last year when I changed jobs, I pretty much told my future boss that I wanted to have fun while I helped people have fun and I really didn’t want to play with people who didn’t want to have fun. It seemed to work because I was hired, and by and large my job has been a pretty fun gig.

Sometimes though as deadlines loom and family schedules need to be coordinated and I find myself gasping for air, I forget that I also NEED to have fun. It seems ridiculous to say that I should have to REMEMBER to have fun. I take myself way too seriously.

I was reminded this week of the importance of fun while I was talking to a new acquaintance and inquiring a little bit about her career– how she found herself in the situation she was in. It was apparent that she was having a good time at what she was doing and we were talking about how enjoyable our work was. Yea, I do like what I’m doing. It’s fun to follow the blips to see where they lead me.

I can get fanatical with the PLAN, but I find when I let loose and see where life takes me, that brings me much more satisfaction and FUN than when I fixate about whatever is haunting me in the dark hours. Besides, obsession is overrated at least in my pea brain.

I have a feeling that fun is also contagious, which maybe is the best payoff. What do you find enjoyable that perhaps you thought you didn’t have time for?

Controlled Chaos

Geez, what a crazy week. I’ve been crunching against deadlines, working late, coordinating teenage taxi schedules and trying to figure out when to fit in exercise. Most of my week has been energizing, challenging (in a good way) and fun, but I’m ready for a break.

I have managed to keep up on exercise, but I’ve had to sneak in some quick morning bouts with my stationary bike, which is as enticing as eating a congealed hunk of liver and onions left in the fridge for a week. I’ve totally missed yoga and Pilates at the Y this week and lead-like knots beneath the surface of my skin along my neck and shoulders are proof enough that I need to squeeze it in tomorrow. I didn’t realize how much relaxation I received from both those activities.

Tomorrow, I’m committed to a noon-time yoga class – I have to start the weekend in a good place. Food has been chanting at me as I whiz from place to place trying to remember that breathing is not optional. I’ve been able to ignore the noise and interference, well mostly, but I know from experience I have to be in a strong place for the weekend if I hope to make good food choices.

I wonder what it is about the weekend that I think I deserve to take a break from healthy eating. The week is seven days long. Shouldn’t my eating habits reflect that reality without question?

I think it may be about unwinding after a long week. How do you relax and kick back after an intense week?

Crustless Mini-Quiche

Mix it up and pour the egg mixture in the tins - quick and easy.

Three mini-quiches are a hearty serving with a side of fresh fruit

I made these on Sunday morning. It was a quick, easy and tasty breakfast.

16 oz container Egg Beaters
½ tsp. dill
¼ tsp. toasted onion powder
1 ½ c. chopped fresh broccoli
½ c. shredded Romano or parmesan cheese
Salt and pepper optional
Non-stick spray

Mix all ingredients and spritz non-stick spray in a 12-tray muffin tin. Pour mixture into tins and bake at 350 for 10-15 minutes.

OK, so they aren’t exactly mini-quiches, but a pretty good substitute and a tasty breakfast alternative to cereal. If you want to drop the fat content, skip the cheese and increase the veggies. Heck, you can even throw in some bell peppers and onions if you like. Enjoy.

I ate one serving and then popped the rest in the fridge for breakfast for a few days. I simply heat them up in microwave.

Yield 4 servings: each serving contains 7 grams of protein and 3 grams of fat.

Is Moderation Overrated?

Moderation. Growing up, I didn’t have good role models to learn this skill. I love my mom and dad dearly, and today I’m blessed to count them both as two of my very best friends, but it is more than fair to say that moderation was not a word or activity that any of us shared any expertise.

It’s pointless to blame. It is what it is. While my dad takes offense to the notion that I often refer to my childhood as a dysfunctional jacked-up mess, I’m not sure what else you would call a place overshadowed with years of addiction. I don’t intend to delve into the crazy-ass effects of growing up in an alcoholic family, but only mention it to give some perspective on the idea that of course we didn’t know anything about moderation.

I remember going to Lyle’s family on Christmas Eve when we were first married, and they broke out the homemade vino, and immediately, I thought, “oh no, there’s going to be trouble here tonight.” But these people were quite frankly a little easier to take in those early years once they had a nip or two, and it stopped at exactly that. What a novel approach.

Thankfully, my family is mended, not like any of us would imagine, but that’s ok too. Once chemicals were out of the way, everyone simply threw themselves into being the hardest working, best whatever a person would ever see. This isn’t entirely bad, in moderation. Most days I can even reflect on that time in my life and pull life skills from the experience in which I’m very thankful. I can for instance read a room better than a bona fide clairvoyant.

But I’m wondering if moderation is overrated or just unattainable. I had a really good week last week… I ate appropriately, exercised and even worked in a few yummy treats. I didn’t feel deprived and I practiced what I think is probably, normal, moderate behavior. It felt good. Yesterday evening though, I teetered on the edge – really wanting to let loose and binge.

Had I just been too good throughout the week? Was I still hungry? Was I really pissed at my husband for some stupid, undefined reason? Did my life and eating need to be all good or all bad?

I managed to let it go, but I wonder how long I will practice this moderation gig before I’ll get the hang of it. Will it ever become like a second skin? Even today, I was still edgy and wanted to gnaw off my arm. I didn’t, but took a lot of energy not to.

From the outside there are others around me who seem to have a grasp on moderation, but is that only from outward appearances, and what if these apparently calm, even-keeled souls are also having the same convoluted conversations with themselves as I do to keep everything in order?

I can choose to eat some junk, but if I let go and give in totally, a whole crap-load of stuff starts spiraling out of control. Implementing even just a small amount of planning seems to yield exponential payoffs.

I wish I didn’t have to put thought into this weight thing to be successful. I wish I could just wing it, but I can’t. For whatever reason – general weakness, lack of will power or just a strong desire to medicate emotions with food, I need a plan. The idea of planning shouldn’t shock me. After all, spontaneity is another thing I suck at. I seem to need a freaking plan for everything from pooping to going on vacation.

Just like my struggles with body image, I wonder if I stop fighting moderation and the idea of planning if acceptance might just arrive, which ironically enough would certainly simplify the plan.

When Will Acceptance Arrive?

I continue to confront my body image as I struggle with my comfort level in the locker room at the gym. I wish it was an easier process, but I hope I’m at least making a little progress.

It’s made me reflect about the time in my life during my 20s when I felt much like I do today criticizing my body, wishing it was different and knowing any tweaking that could be done was well beyond what any aerobics class could provide. How could I still feel the same way after 20 years?

I find myself watching younger women than I gather their things together as quickly and inconspicuously as possible as they ready themselves for a workout. I want to tell them that they are beautiful and embrace who they are at that very moment; much like my own mother told me when I would complain that I was too fat and ugly to be successful at anything.

Is there hope for any of us?

I then look to women similar in age that by most standards would be seen as fit and toned. Are they any more comfortable in their skin than I am?

Today as I was rushing to get dressed to head to a yoga class, I saw a youngish woman standing in her underwear on the scale. It didn’t seem to me that she needed to worry about her weight, but I wondered if this was the place that she checked in to avoid the Olympic sport of scale hopping in the privacy of her own home. Inwardly, I applauded her for standing there in the open with very little covering her personal parts to find out if she weighed what she wanted or wished, but there was another part of me that questioned if she doubted her own self worth based on the number that appeared in front of her.

I want to be happy in my own skin. Sure I can camouflage my problem areas, but at what point should I just embrace the woman that I am and throw that fucking scale in the trash?

Today, I celebrate the fact that I carried on a conversation, albeit brief, with another woman in the locker room as we both got dressed, but I couldn’t help but speculate whether I would have felt less comfortable talking with her had she been someone who I would have considered to look better than me from a societal standpoint. Will I ever find these answers?

Yummilicious Food Choices

It’s new and the same all at once.

I’ve been feeling pretty bored with my food lately so this weekend I decided to put a little effort into meal and snack planning. Weekend is tough because I have the tendency, especially in the winter months, to call my bedroom aka. cave home as I carry in rations that will last until the April thaw.

Saturday afternoon, I enjoyed lunch with friends at Akai Hana, my favorite Japanese restaurant in Columbus, and then I took Russell shopping. We ended up stopping at Chipotle before we headed home. I usually get a salad, skipping the cheese, guacamole and sour cream, beefing up instead on the veggies, beans, lettuce, salsa and a little chicken. But I was having a weak moment and opted for a burrito. No worries though, I cut the monstrosity in half and threw its mate in the trash before I nibbled it away. I felt pretty good with the choice and the accountability.

Sunday afternoon Lyle grilled a bunch of pork chops and chicken quarters. Yummo. For lunch, I ate one of the small pork chops and then filled my plate with a veggie stir fry. I wanted to keep it light given the fact I ate a cinnamon roll for breakfast. For dinner, I reheated chicken and drizzled Bulldog Sauce over it. The sauce is really for tonkatsu, which is a fried Japanese pork chop, but we use the condiment for anything that you would pour barbeque sauce over. It’s pretty tasty and can be found in Asian groceries like Tensuke Market. I rounded out dinner with whole wheat couscous and some sautéed green beans.

My life doesn’t feel complete without an evening snack, but I was looking for something healthy that was sweet and satisfying. I can’t remember the last time I made a parfait; I know it was long before I discovered Greek yogurt. Trader Joes has a great store brand that is quite a bit cheaper than the Fage, which is my all-time fave. I layered it with Kashi Go lean Crunch and frozen raspberries. In between layers, I sprinkled a little Truvia, my new-found favorite sweetener. Delicious.

The entire weekend I was in control and felt content, which led to a good Monday of food choices and a great reminder that a little planning goes a long way toward satisfaction.

What is your best tool for making good food choices?