This blog has been making the rounds on Facebook lately.  Unfortunately, the author makes sweeping generalizations that are not reflective of the whole story.

Why Your Grandparents Didn't Have Food Allergies But You Do

Author's claim 1) They ate seasonal real food.

Well, partially true. However, this neat little list shows that preserving food for the masses has already been popularized by the 1800's.  Our ancestors knew that salting/brining meats made them last much longer than their typical shelf life.  

One of the first large canned food factories, of the Weiss brothers in Csepel-Budapest (1885)

Author's claim 2) They didn’t diet, and play restrictive games with their body and metabolism. They ate food when food was available.

The blog's author would have you believe that "our grandparents did not fall victim to fad diets, food marketing...and other detrimental dieting habits that are popular today... because the marketing infrastructure didn't exist yet."

Totally.

I'm not sure where the author learned about advertising, but the above magazine advert from 1910 shows that unhealthy fad diets were certainly being marketed.

From painful corsets that squished you into the "ideal" shape to tapeworms to laxatives, crazy diets and the need to be "fashionable" have been around as long as the time of Caesar.

Author's claim 3) They cooked food at home, using traditional preparation methods from scratch.

Again, not totally true. Rural groups really had no choice, but for those living in the city, and most likely in the immigrant slums of the early 1900s, the factory lifestyle required that some foods were supplemented by commercially-made goods.  That is, if they could afford it.  Malnutrition was extremely common among the working/poor classes.

Author's claim 4) They didn’t eat GMO’s, food additives, stabilizers and thickeners.

Technically, we've been eating GMO's for hundreds of years.  Our ancestors long ago figured out that crossing one variety of apple with another led to a more robust harvest.  We all remember Mendel's peas, right? He was working on that in the 1850's.

Also, food safety became social health issue in the cities during early 1900's when it was discovered that butchers had been using things like sawdust and dyes to make sausage out of rancid meat. Sawdust was the stabilizer.  And our grandparents ate it.

Author's claim 5) They ate the whole animal that included mineral rich bone broths and organ meats.

I can't argue with this. Watching my grandfather's eyes light up when some calf's liver was placed in front of him is something I'll never forget. Neither will I ever recover from my Polish grandmother telling me what Czernina is.  <shudder>

Author's claim 6) They didn’t go to the doctor when they felt sick or take prescription medications. Doctor visits were saved for accidental injuries and life threatening illness.

Nope. They went to the doctor all the time. Penicillin wasn't even discovered until 1928 and keep in mind the late 19th Century is the beginning of the Snake Oil Salesman and Quack doctor era.  While something can be said for "farmer's medicine" and home remedies, it wasn't uncommon to get a doctor's opinion on everything from a baby's teething pain to a general feeling of malaise.

More often than not, women and children bore the brunt of misdiagnoses, quack treatments, and detrimental care.  It's pretty horrifying, actually.  Opium and cocaine were regularly introduced as treatments for croup, insomnia, depression, etc.

ad from the late 1800's

Women who displayed faintness, nervousness, sexual desire (too much or too little), insomnia, fluid retention, heaviness in the abdomen, muscle spasm, shortness of breath, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex, "a tendency to cause trouble" and almost 175 other symptoms were diagnosed with Female Hysteria.  The treatment included not only the ice-water douche to coax the "wandering womb" back into place but also to visit a doctor skilled in "genital manipulation."  Yep, you'd pay some dude to fingerbang you to orgasm in order to clear the "female semen" which had been causing you to disobey your husband. In extreme cases the woman would be forced into the asylum and undergo surgical hysterectomy.  Lysol was advertised as vaginal "fresher upper" for years.

Author's claim 7) They spent lots of time outside.

Some of our grandparents worked on farms from sunrise to sunset.  Some lived in filthy cities, worked in dangerous factories, and tried to sleep in rat-infested tenement apartments.  The focus on hyper-cleanliness wasn't there and thus they had the ability to build up natural immunities better than us.  Bathing more than once a week was wasteful, but swimming in the polluted river or lake was acceptable.  When I was a kid, I remember a cold going around the classroom maybe twice a year, but my friends' kids now seem to have at least once a month.  Asthma is on the rise in children but our grandparents weren't kept in hermetically sealed environments when they were kids - they breathed air filled with particulates constantly.

I'm not saying our grandparents had more or less food allergies than we do now.

What I am saying is that if you want to take a holistic approach to health, you also have to take a look at the WHOLE history.  It's possible that our grandparents also had food allergies, but with World Wars going on, the Depression, and all the other social issues of the early half of the 20th Century, but maybe they simply didn't have the time to pay attention to them.  Medicine has changed greatly over the last 150 years, and what we can now identify as a result of inflammation may once have been identified as something else.  Do the research and check your facts before you jump on someone's bandwagon.  Anyone remember how quick we were to use margarine because it was "better" for you than butter in the 80's?

Awkward Mom's latest post put me in a ranting mood.  (First of all, E.E., I think it's time you learned to use the bird.)

The gist of her story is that another mother had the gall to ask her if she'd mourned her C-section properly. "You haven't, have you? It's OK. But you really should if you want to move on in your motherhood journey. You are still a real mom even though you haven't really experienced birth."  Now, maybe I'm naive, being childless and all, but I've always assumed that being a "real mom" has absolutely nothing to do with how a child came into the world and everything to do with parenting said child.  What does this daft twat say to mothers who have adopted kids?  Or fathers, for that matter? 

Every mother I know had a Birth Plan.  For many, though, that plan didn't pan out.  Gone are the days of C-sections for the sake of "convenience."  The majority of women prefer being able to delivery vaginally, and will sit through hours of excruciating pain to get to that point.  But when the health and safety of mother and child are in question, a Caesarian can literally be a lifesaver.

I know moms who felt as if they were "failures" or inadequate because a C-section was required despite their best efforts to push that watermelon out of a lemon-sized opening.  Why is that?  Is it because of the new Mommy Culture of the 21st Century?  The all organic, all natural, no vaccinations, no sugar, gluten-free, Purell-wielding, no discipline, keeping their kids in plastic bubbles, nursing until their children are 4 years old, Bugaboo Brigade?

Look, I understand the desire to be the best mom, to do better than your mom, to have your kid grow up perfect and healthy, but for the love of Cheerios, please start understanding that every mom or dad is doing the best s/he can.  Sometimes, the best is getting your kid out the door without any stains on her shirt and other times, the best is bringing a beautiful healthy child into the world no matter what the egress point was.  Give each other a break.

MY America

Ok, offical, it is.

I saw a poster this evening for an event called Taking Our America Back or some such Teabagger nonsense, (and, no, I will not call them the Tea Party because they're just clueless enough to have called themselves Teabaggers in the beginning).  It got me thinking about what "our America" means and I've concluded that MY America is not their America.

Busia (Grandma)

I come from a long line of hard-working Poles.  My father was born in Bavaria after his Polish parents were liberated from a Nazi work camp and nearly died of whooping cough on the ship to New Orleans.  My mother was born in Chicago and adopted by a blue collar Polish Catholic family.  Mom earned her nursing degree right out of high school and my father earned his first PhD by the time he was 22.

Mom & Dad

My parents sent me to kindergarten with the idea that we're all equal.  My best friends were a boy whose parents had been recently divorced, a 1st Generation girl whose parents were from the Philippines, a boy with cerebral palsy, and a girl whose family came from Belize and had the most beautiful cornrows I've ever seen.  My classmates were white and black and brown and yellow.  The only differences I noticed were that some of their home-cooked meals were strangely different than my own rather bland fare at home.

In high school, I worked summer stock and my first show was La Cage aux Folles.  The cast and crew consisted of men and women who were black, white, yellow, brown, young, old, gay, straight, bi, poly, and one trans.  And more importantly, they were all bright, kind, funny and talented and contributing members of society in their "non-theater" lives.

I've worked in offices where the 'Mos outnumbered the straights and offices where the blacks outnumbered the whites.  I've worked with RWM (rich white men) and ghetto fabulous chicks.  I've worked with people in their 40's who just care about making enough beer money and people in their 20's with 3 kids at home.  I've known gay couples who adore their children and straight couples who fight to keep the "true" definition of marriage on the books even after their own divorce.  I've been close to people who had their first kid at age 16 and others who waited until it was too late.  I've known women whose lives were saved due to screening at Planned Parenthood clinics and women who practice safer sex religiously, yet had to take the Morning-After pill because latex can be faulty.   I've worked with women trapped in sexually abusive relationships and men who are trapped in mentally abusive relationships.

I've lived in rich white suburbs where there's a synagogue on every street, middle class mixed suburbs where there's a community church on every corner, big cities with Catholic churches or mosques towering over bungalows, and now I'm in the Bible Belt where a Baptist church sits near every gas station. 

I've been lucky enough to have some great teachers and have known others who simply fight to keep kids learning in a safe environment.  I've had art, music, and theater at every stage of my life.  My parents encouraged me to learn science and history and punished me when they knew I was slacking off. 

My husband and I initially shared nothing but a love of music and comedy.  Our socio-political beliefs differed, our view of scientific fact was discordant, and our life experiences had definitely run two separate courses prior to becoming friends.

MY America is the one filled with people just trying to get by, rolling with the punches, aiming for a better life.  So when I see some Teabagger/Right-wing nonsense, I have to wonder, to WHAT America are they referring to?  The one that would keep my husband and I on opposite sides of the fence or the one in which we can learn from our differences and allow everyone a chance at that old American Dream?

This (little) Victory is MINE!

I finally got on the scale.  First, dear readers, you should know that I believe the bathroom scale to be a torture device.  You get on it, you see a number that's not what you want it to be nor were you expecting and immediately begin the spiral of shame and self-loathing (in most cases).  Sometimes you make bargains or deny it - "Well, I did have a lot of salt this week," "I put on some muscle!" or "I haven't had a good poop today." But you know that even if you were Lot's wife or took a dump that put all dumps ever in the world to shame that the number is only off by maybe 2lbs.  So, you hate yourself and begin plotting ways to destroy that innocuous little scale.


Weight is not the sole indicator of health.  We don't say that well-muscled young men are unhealthy when the scale shows their 5'8" frame pushing the needle over 190.  It's just one single aspect of several components that determine the measure of one's health.  You could be within the accepted weight range for your height and still have a lot of intra-abdominal fat like a goose being fattened up for Christmas.  You could be thin as a rail and still be unable to bob and weave through heavy crowds like I can (it's a thing of a beauty) and have high blood sugar, high triglycerides, and high blood pressure.


I go for how I look in my clothes and how I feel when I walk my dog.  As Kevin Smith said, "every fat person has a limit to how fat they get." And when it comes to losing weight, I feel that there's a certain number that your body is "comfortable" at which is unique to only ourselves.


I am not aiming to lose weight.  I am aiming for health.  Weight-loss is a bonus, but getting off a prescription or two is my goal.  I have never needed to inject insulin, nor do I ever want to. I have little tiny ankles and would like to keep them that way.  I'd be lying if I said I never wanted a rascal scooter at Disneyworld at the end of a long, hot & humid day on the way back to the buses, but I never want to be so unhealthy that I NEED a scooter. I want to avoid all the emotional eating I've done my whole life.


Which brings me to my point:  this is all about the little victories.  Sure, I got on the scale and saw that I've lost 41lbs in 3 weeks, but that's not my victory.  My victory actually happened the other day when we went to do errands for my mother-in-law, who is batshit crazy.  That's the clinical term, I believe.


My MIL was a very nice person up until she realized that my husband and I were serious about each other.  She was already a little nuts, but when she figured out that there really wasn't a chance he was ever going to put her on a pedestal, she went full-on batshit.  I know I'm not the only one who has somewhat strained relations with their in-laws, so please bear with me.


After 8 years of keeping my mouth politely shut, I simply couldn't take any more of her manipulative, two-faced, lying behavior coming out of that stupid bobble-head of hers.  For someone who mentions Jesus all the time, her behavior is decidedly less than Jesus-like.  It's just not okay to say horrible untrue things to my husband, spread horrible untrue gossip about me and my family, and then try to give me "gifts" as if my affection can be bought.


So my victory was actually giving her a piece of my mind and then opting for a chicken salad even though I was so angry I couldn't see straight.  A month ago, I probably would've gotten some Chick-fil-a nuggets and a banana pudding milkshake.  Victory is mine!

Awkward Moms Unite!

First, let me say that I had no idea folks had been missing my posts.  That's humbling, considering I tend to rant almost endlessly!  Also, thank you very much.


Secondly, let me tell you that if you're not already reading Awkward Mom's blog, you need to.  She really could be any one of us, flailing wildly at life's little snafus and seeing the comedy in everything.


To me, though, she is Erin and I met her in kindergarten.  Freckled and always slightly awkward, but loving and kind, creative, smart, and quiet.  Oddly quiet, actually, for a little kid ;)  Let's say she was reserved.... that sounds better :)

There's Awkward Mom standing awkwardly to my left!  Sept 1987

I have several crystalline memories of Mrs. Awesomely Awkward, but I will share the one that proves she learned Awkwardness from her own mother.  It may have been in 2nd or 3rd grade, right about the time girls start having sleep-overs for their birthdays.  Being in the middle of a cold Chicago winter, there aren't many activities a brave Sleep-over Mom could use to entertain a bunch of giggling girls, so her Mom planned something that would keep us all nice and toasty inside: making caramel.  Now, if that doesn't sound Awkward to you, let me explain the process.  You mix sugar, butter, and water together and let it boil to a certain temperature.  If you don't monitor the temperature carefully, you end up with scorched sugar, ruined pots, or having to remodel the kitchen.  When it reaches the right temperature, you pour it out on wax paper and let it cool so you can handle it. "Okay, doesn't sound too bad," you're thinking - but imagine that going on while ten tiny women are running around the house, up the stairs, screeching and laughing.


The next step is to pull the caramel.  This involves greasing up your hands and basically stretching the bejeezus out of it until it's aerated enough.  "Okay, so?" you're thinking.  But now, think about covering ten girls' hands in butter and letting them loose on some very hot sugar.  As a child, I had a tendency to try to "out-manner" kids my age and just be as polite as possible, the best guest.  I know I made a huge mess, so I can't even imagine how many surfaces were sticky or greasy when we were done.  It's a great memory for me, but it also exemplifies the Awesomely Awkward Mom - getting up the courage to do something extraordinary and then having the patience and sense of humor to see it through.


As you know, I'm not a Mom, despite my maternal tendencies (unless you count my 2 year old beagle, who may as well be a toddler - gets in to everything and you worry when it's quiet because he's up to no good), but this is a collection of the best tips I've learned from Moms who are raising great kids, like that Awkward Mom Erin:

• Don't worry so much.
• Let your kids play in the dirt (more exposure to germs now is scientifically proven to be better for your kid's immune system later on)
• Let your kids go down the big slide alone - it helps teach independence, self-confidence, and problem-solving skills
• Try to spend as much time with them when they're little - it's the most fun time.  Your career is important, but when you're old and gray, you'll wish you could cuddle them to sleep every night.  Plus, when they get to school, they learn other kids' bad habits, and before you know it, you'll have a little bucket of rage on your hands
• Try not to be too hard on yourself when you have to discipline your kid.  Learning the difference between right and wrong at a young age prevents them from growing up to be total narcissistic assholes
• When it's time for a birthday party, and you can't entertain the WHOLE class, send invitations out by mail or email, and remind them not to broadcast it at school so no one feels left out
• No, your body isn't the same it was before kids.  Your boobs will never be as perky as they once were, your panty-hamster has seen better days, and your stretchmarks will never tan properly.  Accept it and move on. Don't allow your own body image affect your kids.
• Having said the above, never EVER buy "mom jeans" - just go with the yoga pants :)
• Go "camping" in the living room
• Don't fret if you're feeding your kids peanut butter & jelly on store-bought bread when other moms have quinoa salad and homemade granola - it simply means they have too much time on their hands
• Don't over-schedule your kids but do get them involved in the arts - dance, paint, music - at least once before they're ten years old
• Make sure your kids have a relationship with their grandparents, even if you don't get along with them
• If they don't like what you made for dinner, too bad.  Don't make something "special" for them or you end up with a kid who only eats Kraft Dinner, like me ;)
• Go swimming with your kids and let them jump off your knees
• Read and write stories with them
• Finger paint, sew, play with play-doh, puppets, blocks, and silly putty
• Bake with them, even it's a Duncan Hines cake mix
• Don't be embarrassed when your kid has a tantrum in public - most of us are thinking, "poor Mom" and say "fuck'em" to people who give you dirty looks
• Encourage manners and kindness.
• Remind them of the Golden Rule
• When they get to school, teach them this rhyme "Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other's gold"
• Don't feel bad if you find yourself missing the days before you were known as "Mommy" but DO tell someone if you're having a really hard time
• If there's a grocery delivery service like Peapod in your area, use it
• Let your kids make mistakes and don't cover up for them if they do
• If you have a problem with your kid's teacher, keep it private between you and the teacher
• Get your kids' fingerprinted
• If your local fire or police department has a "safety day," go.  Let your kids know that police officers and firemen are there to help them.
• Get your kids a library card and get involved in storytimes and summer reading clubs
• Pick at least one day a month where everyone goes out and does something active as a family for the day - go to a museum, visit a working farm, go to a petting zoo, have a picnic, take a long walk, visit the botanic gardens, go for a bike ride, visit the zoo
• If you can't be at home to tuck your kids in, be sure you skype or call them before bedtime
• Print out all those great pictures you have on your digital camera or phone - they will be treasures one day

And lastly, remember that you're doing the hardest and most thankless job in the world.  It's okay to take a mini-vacation, even if you just get a sitter for a couple hours to get a pedicure or go grocery shopping alone. Don't measure yourself against other moms, including your own. Learn from your own mistakes, but don't try too hard to be perfect, because foibles make great stories.

As Thomas Dolby's Father Shouted, SCIENCE! Also, Cheese and low-carb.

I've recently embarked on a new lifestyle change.  I say "lifestyle change" because I'm sick of using the damn word "diet."  I've been on diets my whole life - they all work for a little bit but then I just can't take the restriction anymore.  Food addictions are very similar to alcohol or opiate addictions, neurologically speaking, except that a food addiction is much easier to feed (haha pun) than, say, a heroin addiction.  Food is much easier to procure and legal!  I'm not going to get a DUI if I'm pulled over on a cheeseburger high, nor am I going to get busted with a box of Krispy Kreme's  for "intent to distribute."  (Obviously, I'm a fat chick with only one box of Krispy Kremes... every cop knows there's no "intent" to distribute because my fat ass will be gobbling all twelve up by myself!)


After spending my late-20s in very stressful situations due to cross country moves, other family member's illnesses, and the sudden death of my father, it's simply time to take control of my health before I hit my mid-30s.  I've been allowing my genetic predisposition to high blood pressure, belly fat, high triglycerides, and diabetes to win for far too long.


So it was time to hit the books.  I don't care about diet claims - I just want to combine my experience with diets to the scientific evidence.  To lose weight, it should be simply about calories in/calories out, but when you have PCOS or any other metabolic abnormality like me, it's not that easy.  You really have to research how your body works with certain fuels if you plan on making a long-term change, not just a crash diet.


I first determined what I ingest on a daily basis, and out of those items, what have I been ingesting regularly over a long period of time, and cut those out.  I used deductive reasoning - obviously these foods have had no positive effect on my health over the last twenty or so years, so I don't need them to survive.  The one item I was able to identify with ultra-frequency was Diet Coke (or any diet pop for that matter). So I did the research on long-term effects.  The correlation is unclear, but all I needed to see was that people who drink Diet sodas are 34% more likely to develop metabolic syndrome.  Since I already have PCOS, I don't need to make it harder for myself by chugging Diet Coke instead of water.  Plus, as my friend Valerie pointed out, Diet pops usually have sodium - not good for the blood pressure. Over the last month, I've gone from drinking a 24-pack of Diet Coke every three days to still having one can in the fridge from the last pack.  I try to get unsweetened iced tea at restaurants, and reserve Diet Coke for "fiending" moments when I have a terrible caffeine headache. The good news is that my skin looks brighter, I feel less thirsty, and I'm not nearly as farty!  My husband's also quit his Coke Zeros and he's less farty, so SUPER YAY for that.


Now, when it comes to food, there's a TON OF CONFLICTING IDEAS and evidence regarding what you should and shouldn't eat.  First, go to your doctor and get your annual check-up to see if there are any issues you should focus on before doing the diet research.  Aside from the knowledge that we shouldn't load up on fast food and sweets (no brainer there, huh?), start using your Googler.  There are a lot of legitimate food plans out there that will actually help you transition from "diet" to "maintenance."


For me, Weight Watchers SUCKS! Sure, you can eat whatever you want, but you have to count the damn Points - which led me to eat way too many lower-point value carbs.  I lost weight initially, but that plateau hit, and I think it was a result of my PCOS interacting with my high-carb diet - the belly fat just wouldn't go away, my pancreas was freaking out, and my triglycerides skyrocketed.  


So this time, I went back to the Eades' book Protein Power.  It's an Atkin's tweak, with the focus being on lean protein and good carbs, like veggies and fruits.  It's definitely restrictive, with the Phase I keeping you at around 30 carbs a day for the sedentary like myself, but ohmygod, who needs to eat all that processed white flour?   All it does is spike your blood sugar and leave your brain and body craving for more in a few hours!


Whenever I've been on a diet, I always mourn chocolate.  Or rather, going into the diet, I think I'll miss sweets the most.  On Weight Watchers, though, I discovered that I missed REAL CHEESE the most.  Sure, I could have lower-fat cheese, a sprinkle here or a piece there, but I was nearly going stark-raving mad for the GOOD STUFF.  The real, full fat cheddars, briny muensters, creamy havartis, sexy fresh mozzarella all melty on a pizza, stinky blues... Missing that made me miserable.


But on Protein Power, I can eat whatever cheese I want!  I can eat cashews, salmon, bacon, turkey sausage, peanut butter, and steak without worrying that I'm blowing my Points! And you know what?  I'm far less hungry while eating LESS calories than I did on Weight Watchers! It's weird for someone like me to actually feel hunger as opposed to feeling "munchy."  Other low-carbers also remark how strange it is to lose their cravings for carbs like chips and cookies and choose instead to fuel their bodies with approximately 120g of protein each day.


Before the anti-low carb folks come out of the woodwork and shout "No! You're eating too much fat!!! You're not getting nutrients!  You're eating too many calories and sodium with all that meat and cheese!!!" let me say this, over the past 7 days, I've eaten about 1200 calories per day.  My sodium is well within the recommended daily intake of 2400mg at about 2200mg.  My total fat and saturated fat are slightly higher than the recommended 25-35%  and 7% of total caloric intake, but without the added sugar to screw up my metabolism, that's not a big deal.  I choose to make my carbs "worth it" meaning I'll go for the volume of an apple over the volume of a candy bar, and I'm getting more fiber than I have in months.  My heartburn is GONE (no need for the Zantac anymore) and my blood sugar has been normal without medicine.


And for anyone who thinks we're being too restrictive, we went out to dinner tonight at a make-your-own stir-fry place.  I chose shrimp, chicken, and scallops (a lot of it!) and loaded my bowl with lower-carb veggies like broccoli, bean sprouts, onions, and mushrooms, put a ton of garlic and red pepper on it, went easy on the Dragon sauce, and had a half order of brown rice.  It was super yummy, I didn't feel like I was missing anything, and my total carbs were around 14g. That left us room for desert!  So we walked down to the fro-yo shop, where I had a half-cup of caramel pretzel and chocolate yogurt for another 8g carbs.


What I love most about Protein Power is that it's suggested that you pick a few times a year where you take a break from being careful about carbs and just have fun, with the idea being that you return to your plan immediately and stay on it until you lose anything you gained.  That's going to be really handy when we visit Chicago in June!


Sure, Gentle Readers, you may think I'm in the honeymoon phase anyone has on a new food plan, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't crave some brownies the other day when my mother-in-law was being awful (as usual) to us when we went to the store for her, but I can tell you I'm in this for the long haul.  There's a reason the aristocracy of Europe died at such young ages - if not for disease or crazy falling off horses injuries, then it was their diet of eating whatever they wanted whenever they wanted in whatever quantity they wanted.  I don't want to go out with gout, an inflamed liver, a shrunken pancreas, kidney stones, and a massive heart attack.  I'm not really a princess - just a peasant.

I'm Gonna Live Foreverrr! I'm Gonna Learn How To Fly!!!

This is a kinda' sorta' companion piece to my previous post about weight's effects on self-image.  One of my oldest friends, let's call him Mike because that's his name, has recently started on the Crossfit bandwagon.  For those uninitiated, like myself, the regime seems like pure militaristic torture; the pull-ups alone would rip my arms off faster than a Wookie ever could.  But his enthusiasm got me thinking about addiction theory - that we tend to switch one vice for another and how that can be a good thing for our self-image.


During college, we tend to live high on the hog.  By that I mean we're high and eating like pigs.  You're invincible, you're gonna live forever, everyone will know your name.... wait, that's Carmen...  In any case, you're burning the candles at both ends - going to class or work on no sleep is a non-issue, drinking warm Bud Light in the hot sun is totally acceptable, gorging on Taco Bell or Pizza Hut Meatlover's Pizza at 1am is a weekly thing, you have a regrettable random, and you learn quickly that there are no boundaries between roommates (which is good practice for cohabitation - STOP TALKING TO ME FROM THE BATHROOM!)


Anywaaaayyy... So, yeah, you're basically a hooligan.  A disgusting, eating too much, drinking too much, smoking too much hooligan with nary a care in the world except graduating and getting a decent job.  Unfortunately, much like the aforementioned Carmen, you learn all too soon the wicked and boring ways of the world.  Now, throwing up in the trashcan at work is only acceptable if you're pregnant or have a violent flu.  Sleep is not optional.  Bills need to get paid. Water is the preferred drink of choice in the hot sun.  Your vacation is more like a relaxing week at the beach instead of going un-showered for days at a festival concert.  And your genes start to kick in.


You begin to wonder if that "stress headache" you've had for a month is actually something more, so like a responsible sober adult, you go to the doctor and discover your blood pressure's so high that your head is dangerously close to imploding.  Your knee is cracking and swollen all the time but you haven't played football in ten years.  You've become acutely aware of gastrointestinal distress as it happens once a week yet you haven't been to Taco Burrito King in four months.  And your doctor starts to seem really interested in your family history, nodding along as you list every ailment you can remember off the top of your head.


And to put the icing on the proverbial cake, you've gotten fat.  Maybe not "DA-YUM" big, but you're definitely not as fit as you once were.  First, you deny.  Then you blame the booze.  And next, it's your job's fault.  Excuse after excuse until one day, you just admit defeat.  Your lack of diet and exercise combined with your genetic heritage has won.  "For now...." you say to your gut in a voice that promises it may have won the battle, but not the war.


It's at this stage that I've found people shedding their old addictions in favor of a new one - the "Healthy Lifestyle."  It's not a bad thing (except for some special people, but that's another post down the road).  A friend in college, Tim, lived up to the standard of his Irish fore-bearers up until he realized that a fat chick like me had better stamina at concerts.  He vowed to run a marathon and finish.  Over the following year, he became obsessed with running - running shoes, running websites, running nutrition.  He also lost 40lbs and most of his hair, but he finished that god-forsaken marathon.  And damn, I was proud of him.  He'd changed his whole self-image, going from a slightly husky, beer-swilling guy in traditional slacker dress who fell asleep at work to figuring out that he was capable of more than just dreaming about a better life.  Running became religion and making me grilled salmon replaced taking me out for pizza and beer.


Another friend of mine, T-dog as we call her, became a yoga fanatic and she's happier than she's ever been. Yoga and macrobiotic vegan food became the mantra for another girl I've known since I was born.  Mike has gone from being a little chunky and happy that he hasn't passed out on the treadmill to feeling pride while doing crazy kettlebell exercises and pull-ups with a body fat of 13%. On occasion, even I have been known to be slightly obsessed with my routine, and like the folks I've mentioned, it mostly comes down to being competitive with yourself  - can you bike/run one more mile than the day before? Can you manage 5 more minutes on the elliptical than yesterday? Is swimming a whole mile within your reach?


In the end, when you're competitive with yourself, when you're trying to be a better version of you, the numbers on the scale don't matter.  If you need a new belt because the old one just can't be tightened anymore, then fantastic - but all you really want is to be stronger than you were yesterday.