Saturday, November 17, 2012
“No one knows our house is messy ‘cause when somebody’s coming we clean it up.”
That was my son’s observation many years ago as I mobilized the “troops” for a marathon effort to get our house “ship-shape.” Company was coming and not just any company – the in-laws. Remember the commercial with MIL and the “white glove test?” I don’t know if there would ever have been a test, but I didn’t want to find out.
Although our house would never be condemned by the Board of Health, House and Garden Magazine would never have us on their “must see” list either. To put it as kindly as possible, it had a “lived in” look. It took an outside push to get us moving.
The same thing happens with our health and weight. Maybe it’s a wakeup call from the scale or the mirror, a too tight pair of jeans or breathlessness at the top of the stairs. Maybe, it’s an annual physical, a school reunion or family wedding on the horizon. Some outside influence makes us put in the effort to get ourselves “ship shape.” Often we’re quite successful. The Sparkpages and blogs report years of pounds lost/pounds gained. Yo-yo dieting has become an American pastime.
I never had the yo-yo dieting experience. This is my first time through this and I do not plan to have to do it again. However, I do understand the concept because I am a “yo-yo house cleaner.”
I must add that my husband does the heavy cleaning, the stuff that requires serious cleaning supplies and I take care of the clutter and daily mop-ups. He once wrote “I love you” in the dust on a table in our guest room – seriously! Once I read it, he made it disappear. My desk has the quality of a geologic dig. I know the age of something by how far down I have to dig for it.
My daughters have developed a different mindset. They do a little bit everyday and never have to endure the whirlwind sessions they remember from childhood (the homemaking equivalent of a crash diet). I can learn from them. That’s my goal. That’s my goal health-wise too. Do my bit everyday to eat right and get my exercise. I’m on maintenance and it’s time to put the house on maintenance status too.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Just a case in point: Checking on one random day, I see that I consumed 1782 calories, near the very top of my maintenance range It was also a BIG day for exercise - running, walking, canoeing and even 2 short SP strength training videos. According to the tracker, I burned 522 calories. This was way out of the ordinary. I usually burn about 250-300 calories per day. Fortunately, the following day was my scheduled day off from exercise.
708 of those calories (40 %) were “snacks.” I think it’s time to face the fact that I don’t have snacks, I eat extra meals. I know that 6 small meals per day are recommended for diabetics. Fortunately, I’m not in that group, but their regimen seems to work well for my body too.
My husband says I’m eating all the time and I suppose it looks that way. I have this internal clock, my unique personal clock that expects fuel at certain intervals. What’s changed for me is what type of fuel I’m using. Greek yogurt with FiberOne cereal is one choice, not the donuts DH favors. Instead of Oscar Meyer “oven fresh” deli meat my sandwiches now contain chicken or turkey that I’ve roasted in my own oven. DH prefers that now too and even does a lot of the roasting himself!
I even LIKE the replacements. I don’t think I could continue if I felt deprived. Yes, my Greek yogurt is the organic kind with fruit. That sugar isn’t my problem. It’s the sugar from digging into the container of ice cream that used to sabotage me.
Now I find that I can eat a lot comparatively and still be within my range of 1460 – 1810. On days that I don’t workout I stay at the low end. If I’m active, I eat more. It’s becoming automatic – FINALLY.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
That was my Dad’s question 25 years ago when I returned from a “Turkey Trot” charity run. It was Northern Virginia. There were about 1000 participants and I was 40 years old. It was also my very first 5K.
Dad was blinded by love, but he also remembered that athletic little girl that used to make him proud. We hear lots of stories about the humiliation of being the last one chosen for teams. I was the one choosing the team. If I didn’t happen to be the captain, I was one of the first picked.
So what happened to me that I had to train for 6 months to run a 5K? Society happened. By the time I got to high school, being strong and fast wasn’t admirable in a girl. So I joined the others, bought makeup, put on the pointy toed high heels and became a spectator. I recovered somewhat as a young mother. I wanted my daughters to be active, so “for my age” as they say, I was quite fit, just not an athlete anymore.
When I told Dad that my time of 30:51, of which I was very proud, was in the bottom 25% of the finishers, he replied, “That’s pretty crummy, ‘enna?”
I had to laugh. I loved my Dad and I knew he wasn’t really being critical, just honest. He still remembered that little girl who used to beat the boys.
There was a book a few decades ago called “Innumeracy” which compared the inability to understand number concepts to the better known “Illiteracy.”
Dad wasn’t alone. As a society, we don’t have a good idea of how far a mile or a kilometer is. How long it takes to cover it. How big a portion is. How much our food weighs. Sometimes, we don’t even realize how much WE weigh if we let things get out of hand.
Even worse, there’s those movable numbers as I wrote in my blog yesterday. We don’t have any idea what it means to be a size 8 anymore.
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