Since learning about a way of eating called, "paleo," I could only scoff and proclaim that I'd never have enough time to eat that way. Paleo is not just an era long forgotten in our history, it's a way of eating like the caveman - nothing processed, no diary (me, never!?!), no grains, no pizza, no chocolate? "Who has time for that?" I would exclaim, "Not me, never ever."
As someone who is extremely paranoid of using the word "never" in any statement (my supersitions about the using the word "never" require another blog post), trying to eat paleo was already a self-fulfilling prophesy that would inevitably happen one day.
That day was 13 days ago when I started a reset called the whole 30. That's 30 whole days of eating like our ancestors and it's 30 days of a whole lot of nos - no diary, no grains, no legumes (peanuts included), no sugar, no processed foods and no alcohol (sadly translated to no wine).
This reset is supposed to help rid your body of all the bad things that are out there and break the sugar addiction. My first grocery shopping trip was an exercise in and of itself, enlightening me to our society's dependence on sugar. I've been encouraging friends just to try to shop without purchasing any products that have sugar in them - it's unbelievable the foods that contain sugar. If you didn't look at the ingredients, (which most of us would take for granted in a healthy grocery store!) you wouldn't believe they have sugar in them - deli meats (organic) - all have cane sugar; every single solitary salad dressing out there, even balsalmic vinegiette - sugar; how about vitamins - not just one, but two types of sugar; olives - a staple on this diet - most of them in the olive bar have sugar in them!
No wonder we have an obesity issue in this country. It is virtually impossible to find foods without sugar.
Now, when I'm walking in the grocery store or the food area at Target, I am amazed by aisle upon aisle filled to the brim with foods - all containing sugar or grains in the ingredients. I can walk down entire aisles and there is not one single food item I can eat.
And while I am enjoying this freedom from sugar, it's an addiction I fear that society won't let me break. It's going to be so easy to slip back into the world of sugar, because we are almost living entirely in a world in which it has crowned itself king.
How did we get here? And, with all the latest focus on health foods, all organic, grass-fed meats and buy local - the sad thing is that sugar hasn't left, it's stayed and it's showing up in places you'd least expect it.
I've got 17 more days on my journey as an alien in the sugar land. At the end, I hope I can keep up with the paleo way of eating, which actually is not as time consuming as I thought, especially thanks to a wonderful blog, everydaypaleo.com. I love cooking with all the spices and flavors. And the food is so colorful and fresh - cooking is my hobby and I lost that a while ago to pre-packaged, throw it in the oven "food."
It's making me feel lighter, giving me more freedom. But what truly takes the time is finding the food to eat - real food without the dreaded sugar. Breaking the addiction is tough, but even finding the tools to do so is tougher.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
From the Archives: This I Believe (2007)
Since I haven't written in quite a while (I need new material; actually, I just need to take a break from something called life), I thought this would be an opportunity to pull something out of the archives. There is a segment on NPR called "This I believe," in which individuals write about their beliefs. I wrote my own essay on Jan. 25, 2007 - This is uneditted to stay true to my feelings as a single woman, a perspective that I no longer have.
Later that year, I met my future husband, who is every bit as wonderful as I had hoped and believed. Someone who loves me for me, even though I am still my old headstrong, independent self. I dedicate this to my fabulous single friends who are seeking their person...
Later that year, I met my future husband, who is every bit as wonderful as I had hoped and believed. Someone who loves me for me, even though I am still my old headstrong, independent self. I dedicate this to my fabulous single friends who are seeking their person...
This I believe. I believe there is someone special out there for me. I believe in true love and even though I haven’t found it yet, I will find it someday. I know so many unmarried women in their 30s like me or beyond. From the outside, we appear confident, carefree. We’ve taken designer jeans and martinis over babies and commitments. We are wild things who don’t want to settle down. I think there was a time in my life when I needed to be carefree, to explore the world and learn about myself. But with each passing year, there is a small voice of doubt in my mind that gets louder and louder. I try to push it aside, ignore it, but it is constantly there.
Even though most of us won’t admit it, deep down we are all wondering the same thing, “will I ever find the right man for me?” I don’t see this question as a weakness, nor do I think it is a pressure pushed on to us by society. Everyone wants to be loved unconditionally. Why can’t the single girl have this? Will this make her happy? Will this make her whole? When do I get the chance to experience marriage?
My single friends are beautiful, intelligent, gracious women who have chosen not to get married yet. But we forget that it’s a choice. I think the majority of us could be married now, but we haven’t felt as though we’ve found the match or the timing wasn’t right or we’ve been disappointed by men. But, with grit and determination, we continue to grow and develop into truly amazing women. So after all of these accomplishments, who says that we don’t deserve a man who will love us as we are, as equals? A man who will not be intimidated, someone who will help us continue to grow. But the doubts linger, “are these men out there?” “Will I find them?”
Our mothers raised us to believe that we could be whatever we wanted to be. Education was the top priority. My mother challenged and pushed me to excel in academics, to pursue my dreams and never give up. She descended from a generation of pioneers. Women who were given three options – nursing, teaching and secretarial work.
I think the generation of women I belong to have made our mothers proud. Among my closest group of single friends, you would find all with post-graduate education, a doctor, lawyer, pharmacist, just to name a few. Since we were brought up actually believing in our souls that one of us could be the first female president, perhaps the legacy we will leave is not quite as lofty as those before us, but necessary all the same.
Perhaps the legacy of this generation of single woman is that eventually, women will not be subjected to the ridicule (intentional or unintentional) of those who are in the married club. The constant questions of why aren’t you married or why don’t you have a boyfriend eat away at the hardest defenses we single women have developed. It is my hope that we will take this suffering as a sacrifice so women of younger generations will be able to be truly comfortable and truly happy as single. They won’t have to build the armor that we have so carefully constructed after years of bad dates, comments from concerned family members and idle chit chat with strangers who “just can’t figure you out.”
Us single girls try so hard to feel comfortable and content with our current lack of marital status. We have excelled in so much, but our armor isn’t sufficient. We haven’t succeeded at one thing society says is success – finding a husband. And I have to wonder that once we finally do possess what was seemed so remote, that we may wish to have our single lives back again. But we can’t know until we get there. But you know what they say, the other side always wants what the other one has.
So you see I have to believe in love. I have to believe that it is out there for me. I have accomplishments, degrees, high powered jobs and awards. But what good are they unless you have someone to share them with and create a family of your own? Who says that the modern day single girl can’t have it all? I have to believe that we can. I have to believe in the hope that one day myself and all my single sisters out there will find a guy who challenges and accepts us, just as we are. The perfect match has to exist. This I believe.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Edge
After taking a break from working out for most of February (at least it was a short month) and not taking a break from fixating on my growing belly, I decided it was time to recommit myself to a workout routine. However, it seems as though the crowds have not tapered off at the Y and yoga, as I had hoped to occur during my hiatus.
As for the app I downloaded to my iPhone that was supposed to help me track my progress and stay motivated -- Let's just say I'm trying desperately to remember what it is called - True burn? Burn it off? Nope, I need to consult an earlier post (perhaps the one in which I set my intention for losing the newlywed 15). Somehow I thought I'd be more committed if I wrote about it and posted it for the world to see. Note to self -- apparently the world is not a major motivator.
Needless to say, that app has been about as helpful as the bar scanning app (which I never used, so one day I decided to scan the first thing I could find at the moment, a canister of Target disinfecting wipes, and shocker - it wasn't in the database, thus rendering that useless), the dictation app (y'all, southern is not one of its languages) and the wine database app (after two glasses - what app?).
Oh, I remember now -- the Daily Burn app. Of course! Well, I'm sure it would have been useful if I (a) worked out, (b) used it and (c) worked out. Did I say worked out? That's right world, way to be my motivator.
So today I am back in yoga class, which I learned has only gotten more popular with the passing month. There is now an overflow studio, which I was relegated to last week. Today I just had my little heart set on being in the regular class with "all the big kids," so I left the office early and arrived with 15 minutes to spare thinking that would surely be sufficient.
The parking lot held a lot of clues as to how this was going to go down. The normal lot was a complete mess, which I quickly abandoned for overflow (common theme, right?). I grabbed my mat and flew of my car, feet barely touching the street, nearly getting run over in my haste to beat three other people across the road and into the door. I entered the studio, almost barreling down the girl in front of me, only to be told I would be practicing in overflow - again!
It was flight or fright - I considered leaving, but I was here and I pre-registered. In a huff, I entered the studio room, first one in. I threw my mat down, cursing that this happened again. That's the spirit!
Many deep breaths later, I exhaled the disappointment out of my body like a bad spirit and made the decision to embrace this opportunity - to take myself to the edge. When I'm trying to "get back in shape," I sometimes like to hold back to minimize risk of injury. I know, completely surprising. This is probably part of the reason I can't commit to working out at the moment, because of minimal effort (although I have been known to go to extremes and over do it a little, which might have happened before to the wedding; it's a Catch-22, but isn't most of my life!?!).
Ever focused on the practice (I definitely wasn't thinking about writing this in there), I extend my arm to the ceiling in the side angle pose and pushed myself to the limit. My legs were a shaking like a dog that just got out of the water -- one leg bent in front of me and the other extended behind me with the side of my foot pressed to the mat. I couldn't control it.
But yoga is about letting go of control and in that moment, trusting your body. When you start to feel as though you are going to break, you focus on breathing to calm the body, even though you are anything but calm. I think I could hear my legs screaming.
But I pushed that noise aside, continuing to breath into the panic, continuing to stretch the pose and take it deeper. I went to the edge - didn't even have to tell myself to do it, I just did. I extend my hand higher - my little fingers outstretched like flames against the bright yellow ceiling. Sweat dripping down my face, into my eyes. Legs burning, burning, burning.
Finally, the pose ends (thank goodness). I fill my lungs and as I leave the pose, it feels like heaven. The feeling of relief, of satisfaction facing a struggle that is complete. Taking another breath, the other side. With a steady gaze (and a quick softening of the face) I went to the edge again, but this time knowing the reward of the return.
When I was in growing up, I was a year-round amateur swimmer for Mecklenburg Aquatic Club. Our coach would talk to us about breaking through the edge and how we should strive for that feeling where you hit the wall and then suddenly, you are free. You are super human, or at least, you feel that way.
The most vivid memory I have of taking the edge to freedom during my swimming career happened in ninth grade. It was the semifinals of the high school regional championships for 4A division schools -- the 100 meter butterfly and there I was - a faux freshman (grandfathered in from junior high) among a sea of juniors and seniors.
I was seeded in an outside lane in the second to final heat, which makes me a major dark horse, and in a field of 16, one of the slowest. I took my mark and hit the water, exploding under the surface with my dolphin kick. The second I threw my head up for a breath, I knew I was on the edge of the door, waiting to open it. I took an early lead, and with every flick of my arms, in and out of the water, I left the heat behind.
I felt light as air, like a true dolphin out for a leisurely swim in the open ocean. Suddenly, I hit the pool wall - the race was over. I turned and watched everyone else finish. Astonished and in disbelief, I saw my time - 1:07. I had beaten my best time by over a minute, also beating most of the those in the final heat, and would represent Myers Park High School in the state championships at age 15.
As I pushed myself to the edge tonight, releasing fear, releasing anxiety, releasing expectations - I realize the value of breaking through that wall. I was ready to give up tonight, to walk away. How have I let myself succumb so easily to excuses and confinement of so self-built walls? When did it become so easy?
The challenge is moving the walls and using them to block the excuses and the expectations. The edge is the place the be - the reward is so much sweeter when you have gone the distance. I must continue to teeter out on the edge and trust myself that I won't fall, but that instead, I will fly.
As for the app I downloaded to my iPhone that was supposed to help me track my progress and stay motivated -- Let's just say I'm trying desperately to remember what it is called - True burn? Burn it off? Nope, I need to consult an earlier post (perhaps the one in which I set my intention for losing the newlywed 15). Somehow I thought I'd be more committed if I wrote about it and posted it for the world to see. Note to self -- apparently the world is not a major motivator.
Needless to say, that app has been about as helpful as the bar scanning app (which I never used, so one day I decided to scan the first thing I could find at the moment, a canister of Target disinfecting wipes, and shocker - it wasn't in the database, thus rendering that useless), the dictation app (y'all, southern is not one of its languages) and the wine database app (after two glasses - what app?).
Oh, I remember now -- the Daily Burn app. Of course! Well, I'm sure it would have been useful if I (a) worked out, (b) used it and (c) worked out. Did I say worked out? That's right world, way to be my motivator.
So today I am back in yoga class, which I learned has only gotten more popular with the passing month. There is now an overflow studio, which I was relegated to last week. Today I just had my little heart set on being in the regular class with "all the big kids," so I left the office early and arrived with 15 minutes to spare thinking that would surely be sufficient.
The parking lot held a lot of clues as to how this was going to go down. The normal lot was a complete mess, which I quickly abandoned for overflow (common theme, right?). I grabbed my mat and flew of my car, feet barely touching the street, nearly getting run over in my haste to beat three other people across the road and into the door. I entered the studio, almost barreling down the girl in front of me, only to be told I would be practicing in overflow - again!
It was flight or fright - I considered leaving, but I was here and I pre-registered. In a huff, I entered the studio room, first one in. I threw my mat down, cursing that this happened again. That's the spirit!
Many deep breaths later, I exhaled the disappointment out of my body like a bad spirit and made the decision to embrace this opportunity - to take myself to the edge. When I'm trying to "get back in shape," I sometimes like to hold back to minimize risk of injury. I know, completely surprising. This is probably part of the reason I can't commit to working out at the moment, because of minimal effort (although I have been known to go to extremes and over do it a little, which might have happened before to the wedding; it's a Catch-22, but isn't most of my life!?!).
Ever focused on the practice (I definitely wasn't thinking about writing this in there), I extend my arm to the ceiling in the side angle pose and pushed myself to the limit. My legs were a shaking like a dog that just got out of the water -- one leg bent in front of me and the other extended behind me with the side of my foot pressed to the mat. I couldn't control it.
But yoga is about letting go of control and in that moment, trusting your body. When you start to feel as though you are going to break, you focus on breathing to calm the body, even though you are anything but calm. I think I could hear my legs screaming.
But I pushed that noise aside, continuing to breath into the panic, continuing to stretch the pose and take it deeper. I went to the edge - didn't even have to tell myself to do it, I just did. I extend my hand higher - my little fingers outstretched like flames against the bright yellow ceiling. Sweat dripping down my face, into my eyes. Legs burning, burning, burning.
Finally, the pose ends (thank goodness). I fill my lungs and as I leave the pose, it feels like heaven. The feeling of relief, of satisfaction facing a struggle that is complete. Taking another breath, the other side. With a steady gaze (and a quick softening of the face) I went to the edge again, but this time knowing the reward of the return.
When I was in growing up, I was a year-round amateur swimmer for Mecklenburg Aquatic Club. Our coach would talk to us about breaking through the edge and how we should strive for that feeling where you hit the wall and then suddenly, you are free. You are super human, or at least, you feel that way.
The most vivid memory I have of taking the edge to freedom during my swimming career happened in ninth grade. It was the semifinals of the high school regional championships for 4A division schools -- the 100 meter butterfly and there I was - a faux freshman (grandfathered in from junior high) among a sea of juniors and seniors.
I was seeded in an outside lane in the second to final heat, which makes me a major dark horse, and in a field of 16, one of the slowest. I took my mark and hit the water, exploding under the surface with my dolphin kick. The second I threw my head up for a breath, I knew I was on the edge of the door, waiting to open it. I took an early lead, and with every flick of my arms, in and out of the water, I left the heat behind.
I felt light as air, like a true dolphin out for a leisurely swim in the open ocean. Suddenly, I hit the pool wall - the race was over. I turned and watched everyone else finish. Astonished and in disbelief, I saw my time - 1:07. I had beaten my best time by over a minute, also beating most of the those in the final heat, and would represent Myers Park High School in the state championships at age 15.
As I pushed myself to the edge tonight, releasing fear, releasing anxiety, releasing expectations - I realize the value of breaking through that wall. I was ready to give up tonight, to walk away. How have I let myself succumb so easily to excuses and confinement of so self-built walls? When did it become so easy?
The challenge is moving the walls and using them to block the excuses and the expectations. The edge is the place the be - the reward is so much sweeter when you have gone the distance. I must continue to teeter out on the edge and trust myself that I won't fall, but that instead, I will fly.
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