My cousin, Fatimah Ali, died last month at the age of 55. A well known journalist, activist, and talk show host in Philadelphia, she was beautiful, brilliant, determined, stubborn, feisty, funny, and generous. She was also uninsured, so when she felt some of the warning signs that often accompany a stroke, she ignored them, fearing large medical bills.
A devout Muslim whose given name was Susan Hughes, she was buried on Friday, January 27th in the rain, lowered into her grave by her husband and other members of the mosque she attended. She leaves behind a stunned community, a grieving family, and 5 beautiful children to cope with a staggering loss.
Her death reminds us of the glaring inequities in our health care system, and angers me as well as saddens me. In a country that was once the wealthiest nation on earth, that prides itself on diversity, creativity, resilience and ingenuity, we are still struggling with the fact that health care is so often a luxury available only to the rich or to some – but not all – corporate employees. There are millions of people like my cousin who work in various capacities for large corporations, but are not covered by health insurance. In addition, there are untold millions who work outside the corporate world as artists, writers, dancers and other performers; caregivers, food service employees, chefs, builders, teachers, etc. etc. etc. So many people who, like my cousin, are uninsured or under-insured, and are therefore reluctant to visit health care providers because they cannot pay for the care or for their medications.
Why can’t we figure this out? Why can other nations get it right but we can’t? Why do our politicians continue to treat the issue of national health insurance as a political “football”, kicking it around every few years or so, without actually solving it?
We need to figure it out, before other peoples’ loved ones die needlessly. We need to make our voices heard, in whatever way we can, by whatever means are necessary.
Until the problem IS solved, we need to take our health matters into our own hands. Until we can change Washington, we need to change our behavior. We need to:
1) Educate ourselves, our children, our communities. We need to know the signs of stroke, of heart attack, of kidney disease, and what to do about them (check the web).
2) Educate ourselves about nutrition, healthy eating, and certainly in this economic climate, proper meal planning on a budget.
3) Advocate for fresh fruits and vegetables in our communities, particularly in inner city areas that have poor access to these vital commodities.
4) Insist that our schools provide nutritious meals for our children, meals that are low in salt, sugar, and empty calories. (NOW, not “phased in gradually over the next 10 years”).
5) Reduce our consumption of fast foods and packaged products that are full of sodium, chemicals and added sugars.
6) Learn to cook for ourselves and our families at home.
7) Integrate exercise into our lives on a daily basis.
8) Give up smoking and excessive drinking.
Back to thoughts of Fatimah Ali, nee Susan Hughes, who was born into a family of doctors, but died because she could not afford medical care.
Despite the contradictions of her passing, hers was truly a life well lived. I like to think that were she alive today to read this, she would approve.
“DO something”. She would have said. “Make some noise. Fight this nonsense. March. Protest. Boycott something. Act UP, Y’all!!”
Amen.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
BODY PARTS
I was lying in bed one night recently, awakened by the tv, at 4 am. Not my usual practice, as I generally fall asleep by midnight and stay asleep, but something on the screen (or someone snoring next to me) woke me up. So I sat up, found the remote, and clicked thru the channels to find something worth watching.
The thing that grabbed my attention, oddly enough, was an infomercial for a fitness DVD package, the name of which escapes me. Not important, since there are many such things available on late night/early morning TV, and countless more on the web.
What intrigued me about this one, however, was that it was really well done, and made sense. The gal had done her homework, and actually had something sensible to say about losing weight, not only from an exercise perspective (she is a celebrity fitness trainer, and some of her celebrity clients were on hand to add authenticity, as well as some Hollywood glamor), but from a nutritional standpoint as well.
What intrigued me more than the content, was the price. “Get the 4 DVDs for only 4 easy payments of only $29.95…but if you act now, we will DROP ONE PAYMENT!! AND we will send you the calorie calculator, the personal diet diary, the miniature veggie chopper, the stretchy bands, AND the workout mat ABSOLUTELY FREE!!”
Hmmmmm, I thought. A rip-off? Maybe. But only for those who send for it, and don’t use it. For those that actually use it, it looked like a good investment.
But what about folks who don’t want to, or cannot, spend the requisite $89.95 ( plus tax plus shipping and handling) for yet another diet and fitness program? We are smart women, aren’t we? We can figure out how to feed the kids, manage the husband, work full time, care for our elders, keep the house clean, run for Congress, finish law school, drive the school bus, and make the cupcakes, so we can figure out on our own how to lose 20 pounds and re-shape our own jiggly butts, can’t we??
Apparently not.
There is an alarming epidemic of obesity in this country, as we know. Our kids, our men, and approximately 60 percent of us, are overweight, and the numbers are getting worse. This fact provides a goldmine of opportunity for people like the young, slim, energetic blonde in the infomercial, people who find endless ways to sell fitness products to those of us who cannot figure it out on our own.
Having recently completed my own fitness trainer certification program (2 years at night school, yes I did!!), I can attest to the fact that there is a lot to learn, and a lot to understand, which is why I did it. I wanted to understand the basics of health and fitness, not only so that I could write about it, but so that I could make sense of it for myself and my family. And the first thing I can say about the subject is…there is NO magic bullet. NO secret formula, no simple routine, no “one method fits all”, which is why so many people have a hard time with it. And why I have a hard time accepting the idea that health and fitness can be bought for 3 easy payments of $29.95 (plus tax, shipping and handling).
If you want to get healthy and re-claim your body, it takes commitment, work, patience, and time. You have to start by “knowing your numbers” (see my last posting), and by taking a good, hard look in the mirror. Evaluate your own body, realistically assess what you want to change, and then tailor an exercise program that will help you tone, trim and strengthen YOUR body, part by part.
Yet I do admit that I was fascinated by the program that the blonde was selling. She had broken it down to four separate DVDs, one for each body part. She recognized that some of us need to work on our core (midsection), others have, yes, a saggy butt. Still others have “thunder thighs”, or huge hips, or weak, flabby arms.
Fortunately, there are resources out there that can help you target your exercise program to specific body areas, whether you work out at a gym, or at home. A good trainer, if you can spend the money for a session or two, can help you focus on the areas that you would like to improve. If you can’t afford a trainer, go to the bookstore (assuming you can find one!) and spend a few dollars on a book. If you can’t decide which one to get, check out the web, or send me an e-mail and I will recommend some of the books I use.
Cut the carbs, give up the soda, get to work. If you want to do it, you can. It won’t be easy, but a better, healthier body is absolutely attainable. For a lot less than $89.95 (plus tax, etc).
Good luck!!
Donna
donna.white790@gmail.com
I was lying in bed one night recently, awakened by the tv, at 4 am. Not my usual practice, as I generally fall asleep by midnight and stay asleep, but something on the screen (or someone snoring next to me) woke me up. So I sat up, found the remote, and clicked thru the channels to find something worth watching.
The thing that grabbed my attention, oddly enough, was an infomercial for a fitness DVD package, the name of which escapes me. Not important, since there are many such things available on late night/early morning TV, and countless more on the web.
What intrigued me about this one, however, was that it was really well done, and made sense. The gal had done her homework, and actually had something sensible to say about losing weight, not only from an exercise perspective (she is a celebrity fitness trainer, and some of her celebrity clients were on hand to add authenticity, as well as some Hollywood glamor), but from a nutritional standpoint as well.
What intrigued me more than the content, was the price. “Get the 4 DVDs for only 4 easy payments of only $29.95…but if you act now, we will DROP ONE PAYMENT!! AND we will send you the calorie calculator, the personal diet diary, the miniature veggie chopper, the stretchy bands, AND the workout mat ABSOLUTELY FREE!!”
Hmmmmm, I thought. A rip-off? Maybe. But only for those who send for it, and don’t use it. For those that actually use it, it looked like a good investment.
But what about folks who don’t want to, or cannot, spend the requisite $89.95 ( plus tax plus shipping and handling) for yet another diet and fitness program? We are smart women, aren’t we? We can figure out how to feed the kids, manage the husband, work full time, care for our elders, keep the house clean, run for Congress, finish law school, drive the school bus, and make the cupcakes, so we can figure out on our own how to lose 20 pounds and re-shape our own jiggly butts, can’t we??
Apparently not.
There is an alarming epidemic of obesity in this country, as we know. Our kids, our men, and approximately 60 percent of us, are overweight, and the numbers are getting worse. This fact provides a goldmine of opportunity for people like the young, slim, energetic blonde in the infomercial, people who find endless ways to sell fitness products to those of us who cannot figure it out on our own.
Having recently completed my own fitness trainer certification program (2 years at night school, yes I did!!), I can attest to the fact that there is a lot to learn, and a lot to understand, which is why I did it. I wanted to understand the basics of health and fitness, not only so that I could write about it, but so that I could make sense of it for myself and my family. And the first thing I can say about the subject is…there is NO magic bullet. NO secret formula, no simple routine, no “one method fits all”, which is why so many people have a hard time with it. And why I have a hard time accepting the idea that health and fitness can be bought for 3 easy payments of $29.95 (plus tax, shipping and handling).
If you want to get healthy and re-claim your body, it takes commitment, work, patience, and time. You have to start by “knowing your numbers” (see my last posting), and by taking a good, hard look in the mirror. Evaluate your own body, realistically assess what you want to change, and then tailor an exercise program that will help you tone, trim and strengthen YOUR body, part by part.
Yet I do admit that I was fascinated by the program that the blonde was selling. She had broken it down to four separate DVDs, one for each body part. She recognized that some of us need to work on our core (midsection), others have, yes, a saggy butt. Still others have “thunder thighs”, or huge hips, or weak, flabby arms.
Fortunately, there are resources out there that can help you target your exercise program to specific body areas, whether you work out at a gym, or at home. A good trainer, if you can spend the money for a session or two, can help you focus on the areas that you would like to improve. If you can’t afford a trainer, go to the bookstore (assuming you can find one!) and spend a few dollars on a book. If you can’t decide which one to get, check out the web, or send me an e-mail and I will recommend some of the books I use.
Cut the carbs, give up the soda, get to work. If you want to do it, you can. It won’t be easy, but a better, healthier body is absolutely attainable. For a lot less than $89.95 (plus tax, etc).
Good luck!!
Donna
donna.white790@gmail.com
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Know Your Numbers
Healthy eating starts with a PLAN, and all good plans start with an OBJECTIVE. If you don’t know what your personal health objectives are, start with a visit to your doctor. Know your numbers.
What is your weight? Your blood pressure? Your blood sugar? ( Your blood sugar levels will give you some indication as to whether you might be heading for diabetes). Have him or her check your cholesterol levels, (for heart health), your iron and B-12 levels (especially if you are tired all the time), and your bone density (to avoid osteoporosis).
Once you know these details, you will know how to start crafting an appropriate eating plan for YOU and YOU ALONE. You will know if you need to lose (or gain) weight, avoid sodium, cut down on sugar and refined carbs, or watch out for saturated fats. You will be able to make the choice between red meat or fish, lettuce or kale or spinach, and you will understand which vitamin supplement to take to get extra calcium and B vitamins if you need them.
And then there are things that your doctor doesn’t need to tell you. Like, how’s your digestion? Is your skin too dry? Do you look and feel your age? Sometimes these are a question of WATER. Yes, water. You might be dehydrated!
OR, you might not be getting enough FIBER in your diet, which could account for that bloated, sluggish, BLAH feeling (hence that old expression, “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”. Trust me, it is true! And pears work, too!)
Back to something I said above, about needing to lose or gain weight. Yes, some folks actually need to gain weight!! , hard as that is to believe. Some of them are children, especially small, active children, and athletic teenagers, who don’t eat right. This is also true of teenaged GIRLS, who are often convinced that they need to starve themselves to “fit in”. You, as their Mom, need to make sure that they get the nutrition they need. It can be hard to do this when you, yourself, may be trying to lose weight. But, as I said above, it all starts with the numbers. So take your kids to the doctor, and figure out what their health objectives are, along with your own.
One more thing. Pay little or no attention to “diet plans” that you find in the latest issue of fashion magazines, Oprah, or wherever. Those are created largely to sell the magazine, and have nothing to do with YOU. How could they? The writer knows nothing about your personal health numbers, which is what you should go by. Nothing else.
Certainly, pay no attention to the many fad diets, which have been around forever, it seems. The cabbage soup diet, grapefruit, steak-and-tomato diet, the cookie diet, “master” cleanses, and the latest trend, the GLUTEN FREE diet. The only reason for this last one, in my opinion, is if you have celiac disease. It should not be a trend, it should be prescribed by your doctor if you have severe digestive issues and other health problems that warrant such a drastic regimen.
So, just go to your doctor, figure out your numbers, and take it from there. Consult a good nutritionist, or e-mail me at donna.white790@gmail.com . I can help.
Happy Eating!
What is your weight? Your blood pressure? Your blood sugar? ( Your blood sugar levels will give you some indication as to whether you might be heading for diabetes). Have him or her check your cholesterol levels, (for heart health), your iron and B-12 levels (especially if you are tired all the time), and your bone density (to avoid osteoporosis).
Once you know these details, you will know how to start crafting an appropriate eating plan for YOU and YOU ALONE. You will know if you need to lose (or gain) weight, avoid sodium, cut down on sugar and refined carbs, or watch out for saturated fats. You will be able to make the choice between red meat or fish, lettuce or kale or spinach, and you will understand which vitamin supplement to take to get extra calcium and B vitamins if you need them.
And then there are things that your doctor doesn’t need to tell you. Like, how’s your digestion? Is your skin too dry? Do you look and feel your age? Sometimes these are a question of WATER. Yes, water. You might be dehydrated!
OR, you might not be getting enough FIBER in your diet, which could account for that bloated, sluggish, BLAH feeling (hence that old expression, “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”. Trust me, it is true! And pears work, too!)
Back to something I said above, about needing to lose or gain weight. Yes, some folks actually need to gain weight!! , hard as that is to believe. Some of them are children, especially small, active children, and athletic teenagers, who don’t eat right. This is also true of teenaged GIRLS, who are often convinced that they need to starve themselves to “fit in”. You, as their Mom, need to make sure that they get the nutrition they need. It can be hard to do this when you, yourself, may be trying to lose weight. But, as I said above, it all starts with the numbers. So take your kids to the doctor, and figure out what their health objectives are, along with your own.
One more thing. Pay little or no attention to “diet plans” that you find in the latest issue of fashion magazines, Oprah, or wherever. Those are created largely to sell the magazine, and have nothing to do with YOU. How could they? The writer knows nothing about your personal health numbers, which is what you should go by. Nothing else.
Certainly, pay no attention to the many fad diets, which have been around forever, it seems. The cabbage soup diet, grapefruit, steak-and-tomato diet, the cookie diet, “master” cleanses, and the latest trend, the GLUTEN FREE diet. The only reason for this last one, in my opinion, is if you have celiac disease. It should not be a trend, it should be prescribed by your doctor if you have severe digestive issues and other health problems that warrant such a drastic regimen.
So, just go to your doctor, figure out your numbers, and take it from there. Consult a good nutritionist, or e-mail me at donna.white790@gmail.com . I can help.
Happy Eating!
Saturday, May 28, 2011
All of Me
I have not written anything for a while. Too busy to write. But writing is one of those things that I REALLY enjoy doing, and as I said in one of my earlier posts, we should do what we love, what brings us joy, what we were put on this earth to do. Very much In the Spirit of Oprah, who just did her last show a few days ago, and is the QUEEN of doing what we were put on this earth to do, blahblahblah, etc. etc.
So, I am getting back to it. Living my best life, that sort of thing.
What, exactly, am I getting back to, you might ask?
ME.
How so? Well, I am, starting now, doing LESS. Less volunteer work, less committee work, less running around for other people, less cleaning up after other people (hear that, kids??) Less trying to be Ms. Perfect, Ms. Reliable, Ms. Let's Ask Mom, Ms. Do Everything, Ms. Do it at Donna's House.
Selfish? You bet.
But why? Partly out of exhaustion, but more out of a sense of self-preservation, a need to focus. I will give less of me, so that when I DO show up, when I DO volunteer to do something, there will be more of me to give. More energy, more focus, more passion.
NOW I understand why they tell you on airplanes to "put your own mask on first, then help those around you". I used to think that was incredibly selfish, especially if you have kids with you. But now I get it. If you can't breathe, you can't help others. It is as simple as that.
I have unplugged my land line, I am not answering any Facebook pokes (can anyone tell me how to get off of it??), I do not and probably will not Tweet. Ever. As I have said many times, and will say again, people who really want to reach me, already know where I am, and anyone else who needs to reach me will figure out how to do so. The rest can get along without me.
I say that with alot of love, humor, and respect, but mostly with respect for myself.
I am getting back to blogging, so if you are actually interested and want to read more, please let me know. Sometime within the next few days or weeks, I am going to re-launch my blog with a new name, new content, new format, and possibly a new server. So please just drop me an e-mail and tell me if you want to read it, and I will figure out how to link you to it.
Happy Memorial Day!!
So, I am getting back to it. Living my best life, that sort of thing.
What, exactly, am I getting back to, you might ask?
ME.
How so? Well, I am, starting now, doing LESS. Less volunteer work, less committee work, less running around for other people, less cleaning up after other people (hear that, kids??) Less trying to be Ms. Perfect, Ms. Reliable, Ms. Let's Ask Mom, Ms. Do Everything, Ms. Do it at Donna's House.
Selfish? You bet.
But why? Partly out of exhaustion, but more out of a sense of self-preservation, a need to focus. I will give less of me, so that when I DO show up, when I DO volunteer to do something, there will be more of me to give. More energy, more focus, more passion.
NOW I understand why they tell you on airplanes to "put your own mask on first, then help those around you". I used to think that was incredibly selfish, especially if you have kids with you. But now I get it. If you can't breathe, you can't help others. It is as simple as that.
I have unplugged my land line, I am not answering any Facebook pokes (can anyone tell me how to get off of it??), I do not and probably will not Tweet. Ever. As I have said many times, and will say again, people who really want to reach me, already know where I am, and anyone else who needs to reach me will figure out how to do so. The rest can get along without me.
I say that with alot of love, humor, and respect, but mostly with respect for myself.
I am getting back to blogging, so if you are actually interested and want to read more, please let me know. Sometime within the next few days or weeks, I am going to re-launch my blog with a new name, new content, new format, and possibly a new server. So please just drop me an e-mail and tell me if you want to read it, and I will figure out how to link you to it.
Happy Memorial Day!!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Wake Up Call
My recent postings have been about emotional stuff, psychological stuff, how-to-be happy, etc. Today,not so much. This morning I am thinking about health and fitness, which is the stuff that concerns me most these days, as I spend many nights and weekends studying for a Fitness Trainer Certification at Hunter College, and continue to toil in the fields of Real Estate during the day.
As I write this, it is a Saturday morning, which means that my daughter (and her two friends who slept over) is still asleep, and I have the apartment relatively to myself. My husband is snoring, the cats have had their morning crunchies, and my son is holed up in an Atlantic City hotel room for a birthday weekend with his buddies (more on THAT later, or not).
In the early morning quiet, I decided to plow through a stack of magazines and such waiting for me by my favorite reading chair. People Style Watch. 5 weeks' worth of The New Yorker. The Oprah Magazine. Nutrition Action Health Letter. (huh??)
That last one, published by the Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI), is my go-to source for health and nutrition information, and one of the few publications I actually trust. Completely devoid of advertising, (which is why I trust it), it is supported only by subscriber fees and foundation grants. The Executive Director of the CSPI, Michael Jacobson, is often quoted in the media about health and nutrition issues, and is a tireless crusader against the "Big Food" processing and marketing companies. (No, I don't work for him, and he is not paying me). I tend to believe what he and his colleagues say.
What they are saying now, in their November issue, got me up out of my reading chair and on to the computer, at the relatively early hour of 8 am on a Saturday. A Wake Up Call, so to speak. I felt a blog coming on, much like a song. Entitled "Bad for Bones? - the latest on food and fractures", the issue's lead article talks about things that concern me and my primary social network, WOMEN OVER 50.
Why 50? Because most of my girlfriends, close colleagues, co-workers, and relatives, are women over, or close to, 50. Some are a bit younger, but most are well into the decade. Some are approaching 60. My Mom, The Lovely Joan, is closer to 70 than 50. I am smack dab in the middle of it. My daughter, the beauteous Jordan, is far from having to even think about age, but this is not about her, not yet. My husband is also not a woman over 50, and some of this applies to men as well as to women, but men have their own issues, and much like my son in that hotel room in Atlantic City, I will talk about that later. (Or not).
Most of the women I know are physically fit at some level. We work out. We have good health plans. We go to the doctor. Several of us go Salsa dancing two, sometimes three times a week, about which I have written many times. We know our cholesterol levels, our blood pressure numbers, our thyroid stats. We pay regular visits to the acupuncturist, the masseuse, the homeopath. We tithe to our trainers, our dermatologists, our shrinks.
But it is what we do NOT do that is cause for concern. Most of us do not get enough protein in our diets, we do not eat 11 servings of fruits and vegetables a day (who does??), we do not get enough of the right vitamins and minerals, and although we THINK we get enough exercise, we probably do not get enough of the right kind (more on THAT in a later posting).
The November issue of the aforementioned Health Letter, on page 7, has a handy little chart, entitled THE BOTTOM LINE, which I will not replicate in ins entirety herein, on pain of copyright infringement or some such thing. I will say, however, that I, self-appointed health-and-fitness maven that I am, do not even come close to getting enough protein, doing weight bearing exercise for 30 minutes every day, or getting 1,200 mg of calcium daily. And even on my BEST DAY EVER, nutritionally speaking, which was probably one day in July of '08 at that health spa in Cancun, where there was that awesome juice bar featuring fresh everything including cactus juice, I DID NOT THEN AND DO NOT NOW GET 11 SERVINGS OF FRESH FRUITS AND VEGGIES EVERY DAY, even if I count the full serving of veggies that now come in every jar of pasta sauce, the dried cranberries that I eat with my dried, unsalted cashews at snack time, and the green stuff rolled up with the sushi.
And this is the key point, the reason I write to you today: "Too many grain foods, (bread, pasta, etc) may lead to bone and muscle loss by creating an acid load in the body". (Nutrition Action Health Letter, Nov. 2010) Apparently, "THE BODY TRIES TO DEFEND AGAINST INCREASING ACID BY BREAKING DOWN BONE AND MUSCLE"... AND FRUITS AND VEGETABLES HELP NEUTRALIZE THE ACID.
Who knew??
So, this is my Wake Up Call. According to the CSPI folks, the benchmarks mentioned in their chart are the best way to avoid fractures and bone loss, which, as we know, are the reasons that old age can be such a difficult time. Just falling down, often at home, leads to broken bones, hip fractures, loss of mobility, and serious quality of life issues among our seniors. Weight gain due to increasing inactivity, coupled with loss of balance, are additional compromising factors.
We can't avoid many of the pitfalls of getting older. Science has not yet figured out a way to prevent Alzheimer's, although this is the next frontier of medical science. And there is no known cure for arthritis, macular degeneration of the eye, or gray hair.
But there are things we CAN do. We can cut down on the carbs, especially the refined ones. (So, no more bagels for brunch at MY house, ladies!!) We can replace the refined carbs (the BAD stuff) with fresh fruits and vegetables (the GOOD stuff). I am on my way to Trader Joe's to stock up on my favorite apple variety, some mangoes, and some pears.
And if you are interested in the Nutrition Action Health Letter, check out the CSPI at www.cspinet.org. Happy reading (and eating, dancing, etc.!)
As I write this, it is a Saturday morning, which means that my daughter (and her two friends who slept over) is still asleep, and I have the apartment relatively to myself. My husband is snoring, the cats have had their morning crunchies, and my son is holed up in an Atlantic City hotel room for a birthday weekend with his buddies (more on THAT later, or not).
In the early morning quiet, I decided to plow through a stack of magazines and such waiting for me by my favorite reading chair. People Style Watch. 5 weeks' worth of The New Yorker. The Oprah Magazine. Nutrition Action Health Letter. (huh??)
That last one, published by the Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI), is my go-to source for health and nutrition information, and one of the few publications I actually trust. Completely devoid of advertising, (which is why I trust it), it is supported only by subscriber fees and foundation grants. The Executive Director of the CSPI, Michael Jacobson, is often quoted in the media about health and nutrition issues, and is a tireless crusader against the "Big Food" processing and marketing companies. (No, I don't work for him, and he is not paying me). I tend to believe what he and his colleagues say.
What they are saying now, in their November issue, got me up out of my reading chair and on to the computer, at the relatively early hour of 8 am on a Saturday. A Wake Up Call, so to speak. I felt a blog coming on, much like a song. Entitled "Bad for Bones? - the latest on food and fractures", the issue's lead article talks about things that concern me and my primary social network, WOMEN OVER 50.
Why 50? Because most of my girlfriends, close colleagues, co-workers, and relatives, are women over, or close to, 50. Some are a bit younger, but most are well into the decade. Some are approaching 60. My Mom, The Lovely Joan, is closer to 70 than 50. I am smack dab in the middle of it. My daughter, the beauteous Jordan, is far from having to even think about age, but this is not about her, not yet. My husband is also not a woman over 50, and some of this applies to men as well as to women, but men have their own issues, and much like my son in that hotel room in Atlantic City, I will talk about that later. (Or not).
Most of the women I know are physically fit at some level. We work out. We have good health plans. We go to the doctor. Several of us go Salsa dancing two, sometimes three times a week, about which I have written many times. We know our cholesterol levels, our blood pressure numbers, our thyroid stats. We pay regular visits to the acupuncturist, the masseuse, the homeopath. We tithe to our trainers, our dermatologists, our shrinks.
But it is what we do NOT do that is cause for concern. Most of us do not get enough protein in our diets, we do not eat 11 servings of fruits and vegetables a day (who does??), we do not get enough of the right vitamins and minerals, and although we THINK we get enough exercise, we probably do not get enough of the right kind (more on THAT in a later posting).
The November issue of the aforementioned Health Letter, on page 7, has a handy little chart, entitled THE BOTTOM LINE, which I will not replicate in ins entirety herein, on pain of copyright infringement or some such thing. I will say, however, that I, self-appointed health-and-fitness maven that I am, do not even come close to getting enough protein, doing weight bearing exercise for 30 minutes every day, or getting 1,200 mg of calcium daily. And even on my BEST DAY EVER, nutritionally speaking, which was probably one day in July of '08 at that health spa in Cancun, where there was that awesome juice bar featuring fresh everything including cactus juice, I DID NOT THEN AND DO NOT NOW GET 11 SERVINGS OF FRESH FRUITS AND VEGGIES EVERY DAY, even if I count the full serving of veggies that now come in every jar of pasta sauce, the dried cranberries that I eat with my dried, unsalted cashews at snack time, and the green stuff rolled up with the sushi.
And this is the key point, the reason I write to you today: "Too many grain foods, (bread, pasta, etc) may lead to bone and muscle loss by creating an acid load in the body". (Nutrition Action Health Letter, Nov. 2010) Apparently, "THE BODY TRIES TO DEFEND AGAINST INCREASING ACID BY BREAKING DOWN BONE AND MUSCLE"... AND FRUITS AND VEGETABLES HELP NEUTRALIZE THE ACID.
Who knew??
So, this is my Wake Up Call. According to the CSPI folks, the benchmarks mentioned in their chart are the best way to avoid fractures and bone loss, which, as we know, are the reasons that old age can be such a difficult time. Just falling down, often at home, leads to broken bones, hip fractures, loss of mobility, and serious quality of life issues among our seniors. Weight gain due to increasing inactivity, coupled with loss of balance, are additional compromising factors.
We can't avoid many of the pitfalls of getting older. Science has not yet figured out a way to prevent Alzheimer's, although this is the next frontier of medical science. And there is no known cure for arthritis, macular degeneration of the eye, or gray hair.
But there are things we CAN do. We can cut down on the carbs, especially the refined ones. (So, no more bagels for brunch at MY house, ladies!!) We can replace the refined carbs (the BAD stuff) with fresh fruits and vegetables (the GOOD stuff). I am on my way to Trader Joe's to stock up on my favorite apple variety, some mangoes, and some pears.
And if you are interested in the Nutrition Action Health Letter, check out the CSPI at www.cspinet.org. Happy reading (and eating, dancing, etc.!)
Friday, October 8, 2010
Finding MORE Joy
The piece that I posted a few days ago entitled FINDING JOY prompted more response than I usually get to this blog, which is to say, maybe five people wrote to me about it rather than the two or three who usually respond. No matter. What I found interesting was the passionate intensity with which those five people responded. One was moved to tears. Another sent it to all her friends, and told them that "everyone on the planet should read this", or something like that. I feel like a struck a nerve somewhere.
What I think is this: People want to be happy, and some of us have forgotten how. I also think that most of us knew how at some point, certainly when we were children.
Most people who were not happy as children have grown into unhappy adults. Some have spent years and many thousands of dollars in therapy figuring out how to be happy, or have spent many years taking drugs to forget how unhappy they are.
Unhappy people come in many shapes, and they are fairly easy to spot. They are not necessarily frowning, but usually are (like that bus driver on the M4 route who my husband and I have nicknamed "Evilene"). They complain, bitch, moan, or say nothing when you say "hello" to them. They radiate bad vibes. Some of them pick up assault rifles and shoot other people for no apparent reason. Others spread rumors on the internet, prompting other people to jump off of bridges or hang themselves. Unhappy people are toxic, and best avoided if at all possible.
The rest of us, who had happy childhoods, and who now are happy adults at least some of the time, grab onto what happiness we can find, whenever and wherever we can. We don't spend a lot of time pointing out how unhappy we are, and when we are unhappy, do what we can to get happy.
Happiness is not a given, it is not a constant state, and it is not achieved by luck. It is, I believe, something that can be learned, cultivated, acquired. True happiness cannot be "bought", (although money can provide a semblance of it, temporarily, in a superficial way). Happiness can definitely be shared, and should be given away freely as often as possible.
Back to the childhood thing. Indulge me while I play amateur psychologist, please. I think that unhappy people were not loved enough as children, not in the way that counts. Nobody listened to what they had to say, or never let them say it in the way they wanted to say it. They were not allowed to express themselves, and consequently spend their adult lives trying to be heard.
There is probably more to it than that, but perhaps not.
I think that truly happy people are happy because they have found a way to express themselves, in whatever way they want. Art, music, cooking, parachute jumping. Knitting, throwing a football, standup comedy, race car driving. Snake handling, pole dancing, brain surgery, shoe designing. None of these things has anything in common with any other thing, other than the fact that someone likes to do it, for whatever reason she or he feels like doing it.
I met an artist in her 70's in a Brooklyn loft last week, who was one of the happiest people I have met in a while. She was greeting people as they came up the stairs to her studio, and smiling from ear to ear as she showed off the art on her walls. Not great art, some of it actually rather bad, made from paper clips, bottle caps, broken pottery, and pieces of toys. But it was her art, expressing whatever it was that she wanted to express, and her joy in sharing it was infectious.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I attended a one woman theatrical performance down in a tiny theater near the South Street Seaport. There were only about 11 people in the audience, and I had never heard of the performer before, but we enjoyed her small show more than we have enjoyed certain Broadway plays who tickets cost 10 times more. She absolutely did her "thing", really connecting with the audience, and the intimacy of that connection made a difference. She, truly, expressed what she wanted to express, in the way that she wanted to express it.
I think that there is a connection between "doing" what you want to do, and "expressing" whatever it is that you want to say. The "doing" is the "expressing". We are what we do. We are who we say we are. And, I think, we can be what we want to be, whenever we want to be it. Who can say that we cannot?
That, for me, is the essence of being an adult. There is no longer anyone to tell you who you can be or cannot be.
So, the key to happiness, then, might just be to connect back to whatever it was that we were trying to express when we were children, before someone told us to be quiet and go to sleep.
Children shoud be seen AND heard.
What I think is this: People want to be happy, and some of us have forgotten how. I also think that most of us knew how at some point, certainly when we were children.
Most people who were not happy as children have grown into unhappy adults. Some have spent years and many thousands of dollars in therapy figuring out how to be happy, or have spent many years taking drugs to forget how unhappy they are.
Unhappy people come in many shapes, and they are fairly easy to spot. They are not necessarily frowning, but usually are (like that bus driver on the M4 route who my husband and I have nicknamed "Evilene"). They complain, bitch, moan, or say nothing when you say "hello" to them. They radiate bad vibes. Some of them pick up assault rifles and shoot other people for no apparent reason. Others spread rumors on the internet, prompting other people to jump off of bridges or hang themselves. Unhappy people are toxic, and best avoided if at all possible.
The rest of us, who had happy childhoods, and who now are happy adults at least some of the time, grab onto what happiness we can find, whenever and wherever we can. We don't spend a lot of time pointing out how unhappy we are, and when we are unhappy, do what we can to get happy.
Happiness is not a given, it is not a constant state, and it is not achieved by luck. It is, I believe, something that can be learned, cultivated, acquired. True happiness cannot be "bought", (although money can provide a semblance of it, temporarily, in a superficial way). Happiness can definitely be shared, and should be given away freely as often as possible.
Back to the childhood thing. Indulge me while I play amateur psychologist, please. I think that unhappy people were not loved enough as children, not in the way that counts. Nobody listened to what they had to say, or never let them say it in the way they wanted to say it. They were not allowed to express themselves, and consequently spend their adult lives trying to be heard.
There is probably more to it than that, but perhaps not.
I think that truly happy people are happy because they have found a way to express themselves, in whatever way they want. Art, music, cooking, parachute jumping. Knitting, throwing a football, standup comedy, race car driving. Snake handling, pole dancing, brain surgery, shoe designing. None of these things has anything in common with any other thing, other than the fact that someone likes to do it, for whatever reason she or he feels like doing it.
I met an artist in her 70's in a Brooklyn loft last week, who was one of the happiest people I have met in a while. She was greeting people as they came up the stairs to her studio, and smiling from ear to ear as she showed off the art on her walls. Not great art, some of it actually rather bad, made from paper clips, bottle caps, broken pottery, and pieces of toys. But it was her art, expressing whatever it was that she wanted to express, and her joy in sharing it was infectious.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I attended a one woman theatrical performance down in a tiny theater near the South Street Seaport. There were only about 11 people in the audience, and I had never heard of the performer before, but we enjoyed her small show more than we have enjoyed certain Broadway plays who tickets cost 10 times more. She absolutely did her "thing", really connecting with the audience, and the intimacy of that connection made a difference. She, truly, expressed what she wanted to express, in the way that she wanted to express it.
I think that there is a connection between "doing" what you want to do, and "expressing" whatever it is that you want to say. The "doing" is the "expressing". We are what we do. We are who we say we are. And, I think, we can be what we want to be, whenever we want to be it. Who can say that we cannot?
That, for me, is the essence of being an adult. There is no longer anyone to tell you who you can be or cannot be.
So, the key to happiness, then, might just be to connect back to whatever it was that we were trying to express when we were children, before someone told us to be quiet and go to sleep.
Children shoud be seen AND heard.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Finding Joy
Not long ago, the girls and I attended the birthday dance party of our beloved Salsa teacher, C.K. Held at the studio where we take classes with him on weekday nights, the studio was crowded with his friends and students. We ate, drank champagne, danced, and then sat in a circle around the floor and listened to him play his guitar.
The room was quiet for a few moments, and I, personally, was fascinated. Not only by the music, which was lovely, but by the expression on his face. His eyes were closed, his expression rapt, and he was transformed. He became an entirely different person.Someone I had never seen before.
What we witnessed that night was a performance by the person he really is, his True Self. The face of that True Self was totally different than the face we see (or that I see)when he dances. It matters not what that new face looked like, or what his dancer face looks like, only that it was "someone else". C.K. has found a way to integrate his True Self, the musician, and his everyday "work self", the dance teacher, into one person. He is lucky enought to be able to access that True Self, and to bring him out around his friends, whenever he wants, and this probably accounts for why he is such a joyful person.
How many of us can say that? Who among us even knows who our True Self is?
I say this because I, like so many of my friends, spend so much time out of my day doing things that do not bring me much joy. Mundane things, like getting up at 6:15am, cleaning up the kitchen, reading e-mails, deleting junk e-mails, riding the subway, talking to clients, looking for new clients, sitting through continuing ed classes, paying bills, grocery shopping, paying more bills, emptying the cat litter, sorting the laundry, etc, etc., etc.
The things that make me happy, really happy, are the things that I do after I do all the mundane stuff. The happy-things are dancing (which is why this blog is called eatDANCEetc), reading good books, dining out at excellent-but-not-overpriced restaurants, hanging out with the girls, going to the theater with my husband, travelling to new places, watching trash TV with my daughter, watching "Mad Men" or reruns of "The Office", going to the movies by myself on the spur of the moment. shopping (when I have money), and writing. Yes, writing. About whatever I want, whenever I want; not worrying about getting published, not caring if anybody reads it or not.
So I have decided to re-dedicate myself to doing more of the happy-things, especially writing, since I cannot seem to get away from the everyday things that I have to do. (They just keep multiplying, like roaches, or bedbugs). I think my True Self is a writer, and I intend to keep looking for her while I climb out from under the ever-expanding mountain of the mundane.
And since I seem to be writing this blog for my children these days, my advice to them is this: FIND YOUR TRUE SELF. Find whatever brings you joy, and do it, every day, or as often as you can. Whether it is singing, painting, fashion-styling, healing the sick, teaching, dancing, cooking, making music, building houses, defending the downtrodden, taking pictures, hitting home runs, or writing, find YOUR particular joy.
Because the other stuff, the mundane stuff, the life-crushing-boring stuff, never goes away. It just takes over, if you let it.
Don't let it.
The room was quiet for a few moments, and I, personally, was fascinated. Not only by the music, which was lovely, but by the expression on his face. His eyes were closed, his expression rapt, and he was transformed. He became an entirely different person.Someone I had never seen before.
What we witnessed that night was a performance by the person he really is, his True Self. The face of that True Self was totally different than the face we see (or that I see)when he dances. It matters not what that new face looked like, or what his dancer face looks like, only that it was "someone else". C.K. has found a way to integrate his True Self, the musician, and his everyday "work self", the dance teacher, into one person. He is lucky enought to be able to access that True Self, and to bring him out around his friends, whenever he wants, and this probably accounts for why he is such a joyful person.
How many of us can say that? Who among us even knows who our True Self is?
I say this because I, like so many of my friends, spend so much time out of my day doing things that do not bring me much joy. Mundane things, like getting up at 6:15am, cleaning up the kitchen, reading e-mails, deleting junk e-mails, riding the subway, talking to clients, looking for new clients, sitting through continuing ed classes, paying bills, grocery shopping, paying more bills, emptying the cat litter, sorting the laundry, etc, etc., etc.
The things that make me happy, really happy, are the things that I do after I do all the mundane stuff. The happy-things are dancing (which is why this blog is called eatDANCEetc), reading good books, dining out at excellent-but-not-overpriced restaurants, hanging out with the girls, going to the theater with my husband, travelling to new places, watching trash TV with my daughter, watching "Mad Men" or reruns of "The Office", going to the movies by myself on the spur of the moment. shopping (when I have money), and writing. Yes, writing. About whatever I want, whenever I want; not worrying about getting published, not caring if anybody reads it or not.
So I have decided to re-dedicate myself to doing more of the happy-things, especially writing, since I cannot seem to get away from the everyday things that I have to do. (They just keep multiplying, like roaches, or bedbugs). I think my True Self is a writer, and I intend to keep looking for her while I climb out from under the ever-expanding mountain of the mundane.
And since I seem to be writing this blog for my children these days, my advice to them is this: FIND YOUR TRUE SELF. Find whatever brings you joy, and do it, every day, or as often as you can. Whether it is singing, painting, fashion-styling, healing the sick, teaching, dancing, cooking, making music, building houses, defending the downtrodden, taking pictures, hitting home runs, or writing, find YOUR particular joy.
Because the other stuff, the mundane stuff, the life-crushing-boring stuff, never goes away. It just takes over, if you let it.
Don't let it.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Let it Be
One of the most difficult things we parents have to do is to watch our children make the same mistakes we've made, and to know that sometimes there is nothing we can do BUT watch, because they most likely will not listen, will not take our advice, until it is too late. This is particularly difficult for mothers, rather than fathers, as men tend to respond to most impending crises with a certain lack of emotion, as in, "Yeah, well, he'll learn" or "if she needs help, she'll call". Whereas, we tend to obsess, call our girlfriends, text our children 12 times, call our girlfriends again, as in "you will not believe what he did now OHMYGODHE'SCALLINGFROM THECARGOTTAGOCALLYOURIGHTBACK!!"
I am going through this right now with my (almost) adult son, who has returned to the nest after a triumphant 4 years at college, triumphant largely because he actually has a JOB. (More on that later, when necessary). I say almost adult because, in my mind, he is still my baby, but of course he is not a baby, he will be 22 in a few weeks. The "baby" in the house is his 13 year old sister, but this is about him, not her. (More on her later, when necessary).
The hard part of having him around is not that he is a slob, because he isn't, and not that he plays his music too loud, because he does but I have noise-cancelling headphones. It is not even the excessive amounts of laundry, because he can, and does, do that himself.
The hardest part of having him around is that he is just like me.
Most of the time, I know what he is thinking, and how he feels about stuff, without him having to tell me, and this is the difficult part. For instance, this morning, he was quietly, but furiously, tearing his room apart, looking for his red rain jacket, which he insisted he put on the coat rack in the hall to dry last time it rained. But since the coat rack is now in his room, accomodating his new work suits, he could not understand why the jacket was not there, since there is where he left it. So he fumed, and muttered, and obsessed.
I used to fume, and mutter, and obsess, and curse, and scream, and throw things, usually when I would lose something. Then I gradually realized that my anger at losing some "thing" is less about that thing itself, and more a matter of control. If I know where I put something, it should still be there, I reasoned. But once I realized that this need for control was controlling me, I started to get over it, bit by bit. I am nowhere near being "over it", but at least I realize that I cannot control most of the things in my life, and am, slowly but surely, giving it up.
All of the great religions of the world recognize this need, to "give it up to God", to "go with the flow". That is, in my opinion, one reason why we have religion, to help us do just that. If I were in a more controlled mood right now, I would find just the right Buddhist quote, the perfect Yiddish aphorism, an apt Christian metaphor, and something from the Hindus as well. Maybe something from the Koran (and I would use the right spelling, which, I know, starts with a Q).
But that is part of what I am trying to give up, the endless need to be perfect, to always be in control, and to know where everything is.
I know that my husband and daughter will crack up when they read this, because they see me as still being obsessive, moving things around all the time, needing to know where all the keys are, all the shoes. Well, look again. Look harder. I am trying.
And I say to my lovely son, relax. Let it flow. The red jacket is somewhere in your room, probably stuffed in a bag somewhere under your bed, or hanging on a hook on the back of a door in your office. At your JOB. Once you stop looking for it, it will find you.
Let it Be...
I am going through this right now with my (almost) adult son, who has returned to the nest after a triumphant 4 years at college, triumphant largely because he actually has a JOB. (More on that later, when necessary). I say almost adult because, in my mind, he is still my baby, but of course he is not a baby, he will be 22 in a few weeks. The "baby" in the house is his 13 year old sister, but this is about him, not her. (More on her later, when necessary).
The hard part of having him around is not that he is a slob, because he isn't, and not that he plays his music too loud, because he does but I have noise-cancelling headphones. It is not even the excessive amounts of laundry, because he can, and does, do that himself.
The hardest part of having him around is that he is just like me.
Most of the time, I know what he is thinking, and how he feels about stuff, without him having to tell me, and this is the difficult part. For instance, this morning, he was quietly, but furiously, tearing his room apart, looking for his red rain jacket, which he insisted he put on the coat rack in the hall to dry last time it rained. But since the coat rack is now in his room, accomodating his new work suits, he could not understand why the jacket was not there, since there is where he left it. So he fumed, and muttered, and obsessed.
I used to fume, and mutter, and obsess, and curse, and scream, and throw things, usually when I would lose something. Then I gradually realized that my anger at losing some "thing" is less about that thing itself, and more a matter of control. If I know where I put something, it should still be there, I reasoned. But once I realized that this need for control was controlling me, I started to get over it, bit by bit. I am nowhere near being "over it", but at least I realize that I cannot control most of the things in my life, and am, slowly but surely, giving it up.
All of the great religions of the world recognize this need, to "give it up to God", to "go with the flow". That is, in my opinion, one reason why we have religion, to help us do just that. If I were in a more controlled mood right now, I would find just the right Buddhist quote, the perfect Yiddish aphorism, an apt Christian metaphor, and something from the Hindus as well. Maybe something from the Koran (and I would use the right spelling, which, I know, starts with a Q).
But that is part of what I am trying to give up, the endless need to be perfect, to always be in control, and to know where everything is.
I know that my husband and daughter will crack up when they read this, because they see me as still being obsessive, moving things around all the time, needing to know where all the keys are, all the shoes. Well, look again. Look harder. I am trying.
And I say to my lovely son, relax. Let it flow. The red jacket is somewhere in your room, probably stuffed in a bag somewhere under your bed, or hanging on a hook on the back of a door in your office. At your JOB. Once you stop looking for it, it will find you.
Let it Be...
Monday, August 9, 2010
Walk On By
High on my list of Truly Ridiculous Things is the event chronicled in today's NYT - the opening of Pop-Tarts World in Times Square. Really? REALLY? An entire store devoted to selling POP TARTS?? Uhhhh, do we actually need that? At a time when obesity is at an all time high, especially in children? When sugar is already available in every form, every shape and color, in such vast quantities at every meal, that "Obesity Rates Keep Rising, Troubling Health Officials" (to quote a headline from the August 3rd NYT edition).
Really?
Today's article goes on to say that"The menu includes the Fluffer Butter, marshmallow spread sandwiched between two Pop-Tarts frosted fudge pastries; the Sticky Cinna Munchies...and then there's the Pop-Tarts Sushi, three kinds of Pop-Tarts minced and then wrapped in a fruit roll up." I almost fell into a sugar coma reading the article.
The part that got me was this quote from Mr. Etienne Patout, senior brand director at Pop Tarts (a Kellogg's brand): "Our long-term hope is to strengthen the bonding between the brand and the consumer, and that has great benefits for the brand". (italics mine). Well, yeah, Mr. Patout. Huge benefits for the brand, not so great for the consumer. Especially the kids.
Pop Tarts have been around since 1964. I used to eat them (the strawberry kind, without icing) after school. I would put a slice of cheddar cheese on top, and pretend that it was pie. Once in a while, not every day. My mom kept a few of those snack type things around, along with real apples, yogurt, and grapes. Nowadays, snack foods are the rule, rather than the exception. So much so that they merit their own 3200 square foot shop in Times Square. Not a good thing.
I am surprised that a Frenchman doesn't get this. (I am assuming that Mr. Patout is French). After all, one of his country women landed on our best seller list not long ago with a little book entitled "French Women Don't Get Fat". Maybe not, but French children might, and American children definitely do, and are, in alarming rates.
So, Mr. Patout, and Kelloggs, perhaps you could think of better things to do with 3200 square feet of real estate, and with Kellogg's money. Or maybe not, which is part of the problem.
And folks, next time you find yourself in Times Square, do yourselves and your kids a favor. In the words of the immortal Burt Bacharach, etched for all times on our collective hearts and eardrums by the equally immortal Dionne Warwick, WALK ON BY...!!
Really?
Today's article goes on to say that"The menu includes the Fluffer Butter, marshmallow spread sandwiched between two Pop-Tarts frosted fudge pastries; the Sticky Cinna Munchies...and then there's the Pop-Tarts Sushi, three kinds of Pop-Tarts minced and then wrapped in a fruit roll up." I almost fell into a sugar coma reading the article.
The part that got me was this quote from Mr. Etienne Patout, senior brand director at Pop Tarts (a Kellogg's brand): "Our long-term hope is to strengthen the bonding between the brand and the consumer, and that has great benefits for the brand". (italics mine). Well, yeah, Mr. Patout. Huge benefits for the brand, not so great for the consumer. Especially the kids.
Pop Tarts have been around since 1964. I used to eat them (the strawberry kind, without icing) after school. I would put a slice of cheddar cheese on top, and pretend that it was pie. Once in a while, not every day. My mom kept a few of those snack type things around, along with real apples, yogurt, and grapes. Nowadays, snack foods are the rule, rather than the exception. So much so that they merit their own 3200 square foot shop in Times Square. Not a good thing.
I am surprised that a Frenchman doesn't get this. (I am assuming that Mr. Patout is French). After all, one of his country women landed on our best seller list not long ago with a little book entitled "French Women Don't Get Fat". Maybe not, but French children might, and American children definitely do, and are, in alarming rates.
So, Mr. Patout, and Kelloggs, perhaps you could think of better things to do with 3200 square feet of real estate, and with Kellogg's money. Or maybe not, which is part of the problem.
And folks, next time you find yourself in Times Square, do yourselves and your kids a favor. In the words of the immortal Burt Bacharach, etched for all times on our collective hearts and eardrums by the equally immortal Dionne Warwick, WALK ON BY...!!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Take It Back
As Wendy Williams says, "How YOU doin'??" I am doin' well, thank you; so well, in fact, that I have not posted a thing since June. Busy with kids, no kids, husband, theater, salsa, and just chillin out! ( I am actually addicted to "America's Got Talent", and I do hope those little dancing kids from Long Island get to Hollywood. They are amazing).
But an article in today's NYT slapped me back into full blog mode, fast. Entitled "Obesity Rates Keep Rising, Troubling Health Officials", it talks about how fat we are, as a nation. Particularly women of color. And since we women are the keepers of the home, the shoppers, the cooks, the teachers, the mothers, the nurturers, and the hands that rock the cradle, it is we who control, for the most part, what our children and husbands eat. Sisters control what many of us put in our mouths. And Sisters, we are in trouble. BIG trouble. (According to the article, "Non-Hispanic black women had the highest obesity rate, 41.9 percent." I did not make that up.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/04/health/nutrition/04fat.html?pagewanted=print
Let me not imply, however, that our obesity is our fault. Not at all. We are merely victims of a society, of a culture, that is severely schizophrenic about a number of things. Money. Sex. Food.
We drown in debt on the one hand, and wallow in rampant consumerism on the other. We allow the media to objectify and sexualize our daughters, at the same time that we bemoan their promiscuity. We eat as if there is no tomorrow, and then we wake up fat and scream about it.
How does that happen, and why?
The "how" part is somewhat obvious. (The "why" is a harder question, and I will probably blog about that too, later.) There is alot of money to be made by food corporations, book sellers, TV producers, health and beauty companies, and others; anyone who has a diet product to sell. This vast diet industry, not unlike the fashion industry, exists because we are unhappy with ourselves, and are constantly seeking to improve ourselves, better to fit some glossy, unattainable image of what the perfect body should look like.
At the same time, the processed and packaged food industries play upon our need for fast, quick, cheap, convenient food, coupled with our insatiable insistence for instant gratification, along with an economy that necessitates low-cost meal solutions for many, and the result is - nutritional disaster for a sigmificant number of us.
We diet as we stuff ourselves with crap. The food companies know that we are in a trap, and that we cannot easily extricate ourselves from the webs that they have woven for us. They profit from our ignorance, and from our desperation.
Look at any consumer magazine, especially women's magazines. No names, but some of them will actually run full page ads for the latest mocha-caffe-latte-frappe-full-sugar-smoothie-drink-of-the-moment (from one of those fast food giant places) on the page next to the latest diet-of-the-moment. Or pictures of bikini-clad 17 year olds next to articles about how to cook corn on the cob on your grill. Be skinny. Get fat. Get fatter. Then get skinny.
I could go on and on and on with examples, but I won't. I think my point is clear. The Diet Industry, and The Big Food Industry (not my name for it - some other food writer coined that phrase some time ago) have, essentially, conspired to keep us fat, so that they can profit from our confusion. It is that simple.
So, what do we do about it? How do we take back control, for ourselves, for our children? And it is the children that are most at risk. According to Dr. Thomas Frieden, director of the CDC, "Obesity rates have doubled in adults and tripled in children in recent decades". Tripled. That is scary. Our kids are now the first generation that is projected to die before its parents. We are getting unhealthier as a species, and that is not the way it is suupposed to go down.
We, as a nation, as a community, and as a Sisterhood, need to take a look at this issue, and we need to do it now. We need to educate ourselves. Educate our children. Fight the industrial madness. Fight for our lives.
It is your body. YOUR life. TAKE IT BACK!!
But an article in today's NYT slapped me back into full blog mode, fast. Entitled "Obesity Rates Keep Rising, Troubling Health Officials", it talks about how fat we are, as a nation. Particularly women of color. And since we women are the keepers of the home, the shoppers, the cooks, the teachers, the mothers, the nurturers, and the hands that rock the cradle, it is we who control, for the most part, what our children and husbands eat. Sisters control what many of us put in our mouths. And Sisters, we are in trouble. BIG trouble. (According to the article, "Non-Hispanic black women had the highest obesity rate, 41.9 percent." I did not make that up.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/04/health/nutrition/04fat.html?pagewanted=print
Let me not imply, however, that our obesity is our fault. Not at all. We are merely victims of a society, of a culture, that is severely schizophrenic about a number of things. Money. Sex. Food.
We drown in debt on the one hand, and wallow in rampant consumerism on the other. We allow the media to objectify and sexualize our daughters, at the same time that we bemoan their promiscuity. We eat as if there is no tomorrow, and then we wake up fat and scream about it.
How does that happen, and why?
The "how" part is somewhat obvious. (The "why" is a harder question, and I will probably blog about that too, later.) There is alot of money to be made by food corporations, book sellers, TV producers, health and beauty companies, and others; anyone who has a diet product to sell. This vast diet industry, not unlike the fashion industry, exists because we are unhappy with ourselves, and are constantly seeking to improve ourselves, better to fit some glossy, unattainable image of what the perfect body should look like.
At the same time, the processed and packaged food industries play upon our need for fast, quick, cheap, convenient food, coupled with our insatiable insistence for instant gratification, along with an economy that necessitates low-cost meal solutions for many, and the result is - nutritional disaster for a sigmificant number of us.
We diet as we stuff ourselves with crap. The food companies know that we are in a trap, and that we cannot easily extricate ourselves from the webs that they have woven for us. They profit from our ignorance, and from our desperation.
Look at any consumer magazine, especially women's magazines. No names, but some of them will actually run full page ads for the latest mocha-caffe-latte-frappe-full-sugar-smoothie-drink-of-the-moment (from one of those fast food giant places) on the page next to the latest diet-of-the-moment. Or pictures of bikini-clad 17 year olds next to articles about how to cook corn on the cob on your grill. Be skinny. Get fat. Get fatter. Then get skinny.
I could go on and on and on with examples, but I won't. I think my point is clear. The Diet Industry, and The Big Food Industry (not my name for it - some other food writer coined that phrase some time ago) have, essentially, conspired to keep us fat, so that they can profit from our confusion. It is that simple.
So, what do we do about it? How do we take back control, for ourselves, for our children? And it is the children that are most at risk. According to Dr. Thomas Frieden, director of the CDC, "Obesity rates have doubled in adults and tripled in children in recent decades". Tripled. That is scary. Our kids are now the first generation that is projected to die before its parents. We are getting unhealthier as a species, and that is not the way it is suupposed to go down.
We, as a nation, as a community, and as a Sisterhood, need to take a look at this issue, and we need to do it now. We need to educate ourselves. Educate our children. Fight the industrial madness. Fight for our lives.
It is your body. YOUR life. TAKE IT BACK!!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Salt Song
I recently wrote about high blood pressure, and the adverse effects of various over-the-counter cold medications (see my post entitled"Heavy Breathing"). The truth is, the biggest blood pressure offender is not cold medication, it is food.
Not pure, natural, out-of-the-ground or fresh-off-the-tree food. Not even hot-off-the-hoof food, (or just-off-the-hook), for those of you who eat meat or fish.
No, the biggest silent offender is PROCESSED food. Anything out of a can, a box, a package of any kind, microwaved, heated, re-heated, served in a fast food, family style, sidewalk cafe or in (most) sit-down restaurants. In short, almost anything that you (or your Mom) did not grow in your backyard or make from scratch, from known fresh ingredients, in your own kitchen.
What do I mean by "processed"? Anything that is done to our food to make it cheaper, quicker, easier to prepare; to preserve it, give it a longer shelf life, make it transportable to other places, make it look a certain way on supermarket shelves, or in magazine ads; to give it a certain color or smell or shape so that kids will eat it; to make it look like "fun" so that WE will eat it.
It is the difference between a hamburger and a Big Mac; the difference between an apple and a bottle of "apple juice"; between cheese and Cheese Doodles. It is the reason why chicken has become one of the cheapest and most popular food items in the U.S., but also the reason why our girls look like grown women by the age of 10. (Most of the chickens are injected with hormones, which...sorry, I digress).
Aside from the aforementioned horemones which are injected into the chickens and cows to plump them up and make them resistant to disease (OOOOOOPs, there I go again!) the major offending ingredient in processed foods is SALT. In its many forms. Usually alot of it, and sometimes appearing several times, on the same ingredient label, under various different names.
(Salt is usually added at some point during the manufacturing, canning, or packaging process, as a preservative, and to kill certain pathogens which can contaminate the "food" being packaged. It has, of course, long been used as a preservative, having something to do with absorbing and removing the water from the food, which is good if you are going on a long ocean voyage and don't want the herring to spoil before you leave Europe to colonize the world, but may, in fact, be somewhat irrelevant now, in light of our many technological advances. Meaning - if we can get to the moon, invent Twitter, and put subway maps onto the iPhone, WHY CAN'T WE PACKAGE OUR FOOD WITHOUT SALT??)
Salt.Sodium. Potassium Chloride. Sodium Phosphate. All of these are some form of salt, and are listed on the label of a can of Progresso Traditional Chickarina Soup, which accounts for why one serving of the soup has 690 mgs of sodium. And, since one 19 0z. can supposedly serves two people, eating the whole can would mean consuming 1380 mgs of sodium! in one meal! which is why I do not eat it.
Ah, yes, there are SO many things that I no longer eat, and so many that I do but know I should not (as previously discussed, I am mildly hypertensive, which means that I am at risk for high blood pressure). Pizza, Chinese food of any kind, Ragu spaghetti sauce from a jar, those packaged grain/rice blends from Near East that go so well with Uncle Steve's turkey at Thanksgiving; anything from Outback Steak House, Burger King, Wendy's, McDonald's or Starbuck's; "Little Bit of Everything Soup" from Ollie's, the chicken wings at Havana Central (oh, but I do!), Annie's Natural Goddess Dressing, the list is endless and depressing.
Takeout sushi with the soy sauce. The turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce on whole wheat from Fairway. Bagels. Cookies from anywhere. Soda (well, I don't drink it anyway, but that's largely because of the sugar, which I will talk about in a future post).
Shoot me now, please.
I've gotten so militant and obnoxious about salt that my Mom, the lovely Joan, reacts with surprise anytime she sees me with a salt shaker in my hand at dinner. To which I reply, "Mom, remember, it is not TABLE salt which causes the problem". It is not, indeed. That which we add ourselves at the table represents a mere fraction of what commercial cooks and food manufacturers put into our food, and, as such, poses little problem. Sprinkling a bit on top of our food is OK. Dumping vast quantities of salt into a recipe in the commercial kitchen, is not.
Which is why Mayor Bloomberg, CDC Director Dr. Thomas Frieden, and NYC Health Commissioner Dr. Thomas Farley have all taken a stand against the high salt content of processed foods and restaurant meals, calling for a voluntary effort on the part of New York City restaurants and national food manufacturers to substantially reduce the sodium in restaurant and packaged foods by 25% over the next 5 years. To which some people have reacted with typical arrogance and ignorance, i.e. "I don't want people telling me what I can and cannot eat" yayayayayayayablahblahblah.
To which I, for one, say, "Thank you. IT'S ABOUT TIME".
I feel a book coming on...
Not pure, natural, out-of-the-ground or fresh-off-the-tree food. Not even hot-off-the-hoof food, (or just-off-the-hook), for those of you who eat meat or fish.
No, the biggest silent offender is PROCESSED food. Anything out of a can, a box, a package of any kind, microwaved, heated, re-heated, served in a fast food, family style, sidewalk cafe or in (most) sit-down restaurants. In short, almost anything that you (or your Mom) did not grow in your backyard or make from scratch, from known fresh ingredients, in your own kitchen.
What do I mean by "processed"? Anything that is done to our food to make it cheaper, quicker, easier to prepare; to preserve it, give it a longer shelf life, make it transportable to other places, make it look a certain way on supermarket shelves, or in magazine ads; to give it a certain color or smell or shape so that kids will eat it; to make it look like "fun" so that WE will eat it.
It is the difference between a hamburger and a Big Mac; the difference between an apple and a bottle of "apple juice"; between cheese and Cheese Doodles. It is the reason why chicken has become one of the cheapest and most popular food items in the U.S., but also the reason why our girls look like grown women by the age of 10. (Most of the chickens are injected with hormones, which...sorry, I digress).
Aside from the aforementioned horemones which are injected into the chickens and cows to plump them up and make them resistant to disease (OOOOOOPs, there I go again!) the major offending ingredient in processed foods is SALT. In its many forms. Usually alot of it, and sometimes appearing several times, on the same ingredient label, under various different names.
(Salt is usually added at some point during the manufacturing, canning, or packaging process, as a preservative, and to kill certain pathogens which can contaminate the "food" being packaged. It has, of course, long been used as a preservative, having something to do with absorbing and removing the water from the food, which is good if you are going on a long ocean voyage and don't want the herring to spoil before you leave Europe to colonize the world, but may, in fact, be somewhat irrelevant now, in light of our many technological advances. Meaning - if we can get to the moon, invent Twitter, and put subway maps onto the iPhone, WHY CAN'T WE PACKAGE OUR FOOD WITHOUT SALT??)
Salt.Sodium. Potassium Chloride. Sodium Phosphate. All of these are some form of salt, and are listed on the label of a can of Progresso Traditional Chickarina Soup, which accounts for why one serving of the soup has 690 mgs of sodium. And, since one 19 0z. can supposedly serves two people, eating the whole can would mean consuming 1380 mgs of sodium! in one meal! which is why I do not eat it.
Ah, yes, there are SO many things that I no longer eat, and so many that I do but know I should not (as previously discussed, I am mildly hypertensive, which means that I am at risk for high blood pressure). Pizza, Chinese food of any kind, Ragu spaghetti sauce from a jar, those packaged grain/rice blends from Near East that go so well with Uncle Steve's turkey at Thanksgiving; anything from Outback Steak House, Burger King, Wendy's, McDonald's or Starbuck's; "Little Bit of Everything Soup" from Ollie's, the chicken wings at Havana Central (oh, but I do!), Annie's Natural Goddess Dressing, the list is endless and depressing.
Takeout sushi with the soy sauce. The turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce on whole wheat from Fairway. Bagels. Cookies from anywhere. Soda (well, I don't drink it anyway, but that's largely because of the sugar, which I will talk about in a future post).
Shoot me now, please.
I've gotten so militant and obnoxious about salt that my Mom, the lovely Joan, reacts with surprise anytime she sees me with a salt shaker in my hand at dinner. To which I reply, "Mom, remember, it is not TABLE salt which causes the problem". It is not, indeed. That which we add ourselves at the table represents a mere fraction of what commercial cooks and food manufacturers put into our food, and, as such, poses little problem. Sprinkling a bit on top of our food is OK. Dumping vast quantities of salt into a recipe in the commercial kitchen, is not.
Which is why Mayor Bloomberg, CDC Director Dr. Thomas Frieden, and NYC Health Commissioner Dr. Thomas Farley have all taken a stand against the high salt content of processed foods and restaurant meals, calling for a voluntary effort on the part of New York City restaurants and national food manufacturers to substantially reduce the sodium in restaurant and packaged foods by 25% over the next 5 years. To which some people have reacted with typical arrogance and ignorance, i.e. "I don't want people telling me what I can and cannot eat" yayayayayayayablahblahblah.
To which I, for one, say, "Thank you. IT'S ABOUT TIME".
I feel a book coming on...
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sisterhood
I went to see "Sex and the City 2" yesterday with two girlfriends. Women were everywhere, lined up. And this was only the 4:50 show on Saturday, Memorial Day Weekend. The line was out the door, down the escalator, around the block for the show after that. It was showing not only on 67th Street, but also just up Broadway at 84th Street. Unprecedented.
The movie was actually not all that good, after the shoes, the clothes, Big and Carrie's fabulous apartment; the gay wedding, the hotel in Abu Dhabi, and the fabulous Danish guy. Parts of it were actually rather pathetic and insulting, (i.e. Samantha dropping her condoms in the spice market - really tacky - and her lipstick! way too heavy). But it did have a few high points, notably Charlotte and Miranda confessing to each other over martinis that motherhood is not the fairy tale they thought it would be. I also liked the scene where the Arab women revealed their Western finery underneath those heavy black robes.
Other than those two scenes, it was mostly rather stupid.
But that obviously didn't matter, because the reviews were out by the time we saw it, which means that women are lining up to see it anyway. We really don't care that it might be bad. We are lining up for another reason, which I call "Sisterhood".
Despite recent magazine articles and chat shows that talk about women as natural enemies, women need each other, and we find any and every excuse to be together. In groups, in pairs, in threesomes; we meet, we shop, we eat, we see stupid movies, we bitch. We travel, read books, go out dancing together, plan our kids' teacher's retirement luncheon together, meet at the gym, swap clothes and tell stories, much as the ladies of "Sex and the City" do in every episode since the beginning of the series. We live our lives with, and through, each other. We do not tear each other down, we build each other up, in ways that our children, our jobs, and our men do not and cannot.
We even dress for each other, which is an interesting phenomenon in and of itself. Men do not actually like 3 inch Manolos, do not generally notice what color eye shadow we have on, and could not care less which designer's handbag we carry. (Unless they are gay men, or trannies, in which case they are, by definition, part of the Sisterhood).
The two women I went out with last night only met each other recently, at a swap party brunch at my house, yet found endless points of sisterhood as we dissected the movie over margaritas and guacamole at Gabriela's. Marriage. Divorce. Widowhood. Dating. The highs and lows of our lives. A discussion that keeps repeating itself, time and time again.
My mother, the lovely Joan, has a similar group of women friends, who have been connected in much the same way, for more than 50 years. She and her friends have witnessed several Presidents, various stock market cycles, many marriages, and numerous grandchildren. Life, illness, death, babies. But through all that, they have their girlfriends to turn to, as I have mine.
And it was Mom who told me to keep my eye out for the hot Danish guy in the movie, which she saw, with her girlfriends, before I did. Moral: Life, like the movie, may have its rough spots, but hopefully, there is a cute guy in a Jeep, just over the sand dune.
The movie was actually not all that good, after the shoes, the clothes, Big and Carrie's fabulous apartment; the gay wedding, the hotel in Abu Dhabi, and the fabulous Danish guy. Parts of it were actually rather pathetic and insulting, (i.e. Samantha dropping her condoms in the spice market - really tacky - and her lipstick! way too heavy). But it did have a few high points, notably Charlotte and Miranda confessing to each other over martinis that motherhood is not the fairy tale they thought it would be. I also liked the scene where the Arab women revealed their Western finery underneath those heavy black robes.
Other than those two scenes, it was mostly rather stupid.
But that obviously didn't matter, because the reviews were out by the time we saw it, which means that women are lining up to see it anyway. We really don't care that it might be bad. We are lining up for another reason, which I call "Sisterhood".
Despite recent magazine articles and chat shows that talk about women as natural enemies, women need each other, and we find any and every excuse to be together. In groups, in pairs, in threesomes; we meet, we shop, we eat, we see stupid movies, we bitch. We travel, read books, go out dancing together, plan our kids' teacher's retirement luncheon together, meet at the gym, swap clothes and tell stories, much as the ladies of "Sex and the City" do in every episode since the beginning of the series. We live our lives with, and through, each other. We do not tear each other down, we build each other up, in ways that our children, our jobs, and our men do not and cannot.
We even dress for each other, which is an interesting phenomenon in and of itself. Men do not actually like 3 inch Manolos, do not generally notice what color eye shadow we have on, and could not care less which designer's handbag we carry. (Unless they are gay men, or trannies, in which case they are, by definition, part of the Sisterhood).
The two women I went out with last night only met each other recently, at a swap party brunch at my house, yet found endless points of sisterhood as we dissected the movie over margaritas and guacamole at Gabriela's. Marriage. Divorce. Widowhood. Dating. The highs and lows of our lives. A discussion that keeps repeating itself, time and time again.
My mother, the lovely Joan, has a similar group of women friends, who have been connected in much the same way, for more than 50 years. She and her friends have witnessed several Presidents, various stock market cycles, many marriages, and numerous grandchildren. Life, illness, death, babies. But through all that, they have their girlfriends to turn to, as I have mine.
And it was Mom who told me to keep my eye out for the hot Danish guy in the movie, which she saw, with her girlfriends, before I did. Moral: Life, like the movie, may have its rough spots, but hopefully, there is a cute guy in a Jeep, just over the sand dune.
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