Six-Word Resolutions

I see the dumbest things when I watch football on Sundays. Even worse than the mindless beer commercials yesterday was the commercial for Taco Bell touting itself as healthy drive-thru fare. Yikes! They’re even calling their menu the Drive-Thru-Diet. Here’s the disclaimer: “Drive-Thru-Diet® is not a weight-loss program. For a healthier lifestyle, pay attention to total calorie and fat intake and regular exercise. Taco Bell's Fresco Menu can help with calorie reductions of 20 to 100 per item compared to corresponding products on our regular menu. Not a low calorie food. For complete nutritional information please visit TacoBell.com.”

It’s not a weight-loss program, and yet they call it a “diet.” Hmmm… Tell you what, Taco Hell, I’ll just keep staying away from your restaurant as I have for five years. That way I'm guaranteed a “healthier lifestyle.” Besides, I make better refried beans, use real lettuce, and am much more generous with tomatoes when I make tacos and burritos at home. Drive-Thru-Diet my ass…

I’m skipping the “frescolustions” this year and making some real resolutions. As many of you know, my weight loss is the result of a New Year's resolution that stuck. Five years ago, I decided to lose some weight. How much I wasn’t sure. I just remember thinking, I want to be in Onederland again. A year later, I was.

Because a year will pass whether I change anything or not, I’m resolving to make a few tweaks to the old way of life. And I’m going to be succinct about it because it’s more fun that way.

Here’s what I mean: Smithmag.com created the Six-Word Memoirs project in 2006 and have since published two books of six-word memoirs submitted by readers. I first found the site when they held a Six-Word Resolution contest in 2007. Of all the winners, my favorite resolution was, “Kiss Jon Stewart on the mouth” submitted by Martha Garvey. I haven’t talked to Martha for awhile, so I’m not sure if she ever resolved that resolution.

So here are my 2010 six-word resolutions:

In terms of my body: “Make friends with my flabby bits.” And once I’ve done that: “Wear shorts higher than my knees.”
Professionally: “Stop giving it away for kudos.”
Financially: “No pedicures until Mastercard’s paid off.”
Nutritionally: “Go vegan for awhile, maybe longer.” (P.S. I fell in love with a new blog: FatFree Vegan Kitchen. I lost myself for an hour looking through her recipes. What to try first…)

So what are your six-word resolutions for 2010? And if it’s “Try Taco Bell’s Drive-Thru-Diet,” that’s OK, you can tell me. I won’t say anything. Really. I promise.

And The NAN Winner(s) Is...

Tisha and Sunny will each receive a subscription to Nutrition Action Newsletter! NAN is having a special so I could give two subscriptions for the price of one so I drew two winners. If you're interested in subscribing to NAN, click here to get to the website.

Thank you everyone for sharing your nutritional goals. They will make great springboards for blog conversations in the new year.

Look for my interview with Joy Bauer on Wednesday, Jan. 30.

I'll be back with a regular blog this weekend. Those of you in the Midwest, stay safe and warm! I grew up in Minnesota and know how rough those blizzards can be.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Glad you liked the Christmas blog (see "Now For Something Completely Different"). Keep your wits about you as you peruse the food tables!

And Now For Something Completely Different

I like to post something once in awhile that has nothing to do with weight loss or maintenance or food. How dull would life be if that’s all we ever talked about! (Quick reminder: You have until about 6 a.m. tomorrow to throw your name into my Nutrition Action Newsletter giveaway! Click here to read how. I’ll announce the winner tomorrow morning.)

‘Twas The Night Before The Night Before Christmas

Tonight’s the night Santa always visited the Haraldson house: the night before the night before Christmas.

We were the only family I knew who opened gifts on Christmas Eve. My parents convinced my brothers and sisters and me that Santa started his trip in Minnesota (at our house specifically) in the early morning hours of the 24th before heading to the International Date Line where it was the next day already. That’s why we put out milk and cookies on the 23rd and our Santa gifts were under our tree on the morning of the 24th. It made total sense to me until I cracked the whole Santa thing when I was 9. More on that in a minute.

On Christmas Eve, Dad would read Luke’s account of the Christmas story before we opened gifts. I always felt sad for Baby Jesus. What was a kid supposed to do with gold, frankincense and myrrh? Sure I got boring things like socks and underwear for Christmas, too, but my parents always got me a few things from my Sears catalog wish list. I just hoped Luke forgot to mention that Baby Jesus got a cool Matchbox car, too.

My parents were awesome gift givers actually. In 1969, I was 6 years old, and on Christmas Eve, my parents gave me a gift that was too big to wrap. They told me to stand by the fireplace and shut my eyes. I was so excited and my imagination went into overdrive. What was it? A pony? A princess dress? My thoughts were dashed when my stupid little brother insisted that he stand there with me and I started yelling at him to go away, that this was my present. Mom gave me the finger snap and “the look” and told me to knock it off and shut my eyes. So I shut my eyes.

It felt like forever before she yelled “Open them!” There stood my dad and older brother holding a two-story wood-frame dollhouse with glass windows, and carpet in the living room and linoleum in the kitchen. Way better than a pony or a princess dress! The best part was that my dad made it. Forty years later, that well-loved dollhouse is in my basement, and will be Claire’s when she turns 3in October.

On Christmas Eve 1973, I had to shut my eyes again for a gift that was too big to wrap. Again my imagination went wild, but thankfully this time my brother stayed out of my glory. When Mom and Dad yelled “Open them!” there in the middle of the living room was a cage and a beautiful little parakeet inside. I’d like to deny that I cried, but as usual my mother caught the moment with her camera and there’s a permanent record of me smiling, tears streaming down my face, talking to my new pet, Pari the Parakeet.

I loved that bird. For seven years Pari heard all my stories and kept all my secrets. He got sick once and lost a foot, but adapted well to having only one. He died one morning when I was 17 and we buried him in the garden.

The week before Christmas 1980, I came home after working the dinner shift at Country Kitchen and found a large tin can on our front stoop. On top was written “To Lynn From Santa.” I brought it inside and asked if anyone knew who left it. Dad said it wasn’t there when he came home from work earlier and no one had heard a car pull up in the drive.

The can was about 12 inches tall and decorated with a holiday scene. Whatever was inside had been sealed like a can of peas and it could only be opened with a can opener. When I went to the kitchen to find one, my mother said, “You can’t open that until Christmas!”

“But why?” I asked. “We don’t even know who it’s from!”

That didn’t matter. Haraldson Christmas Rule No. 1: No gift shall be opened until Christmas Eve. No exceptions. So I spent a few hours analyzing the handwriting on the lid, the same way I did when I cracked the mystery of Santa.

Santa always left a note of thanks for the cookies and milk, and when I got old enough to notice, I realized he used the notepaper my mom kept in the cupboard. It disturbed me to think of some old guy wandering around our house looking for paper and a pen. It was bad enough that we didn’t have a fireplace and had to leave the front door unlocked so Santa could get in, but imagining him turning on lights and sifting through our personal stuff made me a little uncomfortable. I was quite relieved the year I realized Santa had the same handwriting as my dad, only I had to keep it under wraps because my little brother was still too young to figure it out. I felt superior with this knowledge and was quite smug the following year when he learned who Santa was and I told him I’d known “for a long time.” “Well la-di-da” I think was his exact retort as he stuck his tongue out at me.

This time, the handwriting wasn’t so obvious. Was it a boy’s writing? A girl’s? I couldn’t tell. There were a few strange regulars at the restaurant I worked at who’d probably want to leave me gifts outside my house, but that creeped me out too much to think about and so I just let the can sit under the tree for seven tortuous days.

I sat on the couch with a can opener in my hand while Dad read the Christmas story and my little sister and little brother opened their first gifts. (Haraldson Christmas Rule No. 2: Gifts are opened in order according to age.) When it was finally my turn, I cranked open that can as fast as I could. Inside was a little teddy bear and a note: “Merry Christmas. Love, Dad.”

Told you my parents were awesome gift givers.

Wishing you all a very merry night before night before Christmas!

…And a Healthy New Year (NAN Giveaway!)

I get a few health-related publications, but none are as well researched and radical as the Nutrition Action Newsletter, a publication of the Center for Science in the Public Interest. CSPI is quite political, and while I don’t always like the biased and sometimes snarky tone of their articles, they are tops in the field and fight the good fight for the underdog: legislation for and access to good, solid nutrition.

CSPI attacks junk food ads (particularly those that target children), fights to improve school lunch programs, and exposes restaurants and food companies for their exaggerated health claims: “May lower cholesterol!” “May boost immunity!” “A good source of whole grains!” What? Count Chocula? I doubt it.

CSPI also lobbies for better food labeling and food safety. Nothing food related is off their radar. In the December issue, they had an extensive article on movie theater popcorn and compared the nutritional information for all sizes of popcorn at three national theater chains. It’s scary what passes for a “healthy” snack.

I’m pretty wimpy when it comes to controversy or creating controversy, so in the field of my nutritional interests, I let CSPI do it for me (and writers like Michael Pollan and films like “Food, Inc.” and “Supersize Me.” I prefer to work behind the scenes.

And part of working behind the scenes is giving one of you a one-year subscription to Nutrition Action Newsletter. (Disclaimer: This is paid for by me with no recognition or benefit from CSPI.) Because I’ve gained so much insight from this publication AND from you, my readers, I thought as a holiday gift, I’d unite one with the other. I wish I could give all of you a subscription, but alas, I work for peanuts and can only afford one.

For your name to be in the pool of potential winners (one name will be drawn randomly), all you have to do is answer one question: What positive nutritional changes or adjustments did you make this year and/or what are you resolving to change nutritionally in 2010 to be a more healthy consumer?

Leave a comment here or send me an email at lynnbering@verizon.net. I will announce a winner on Thursday!

Oh Where, Oh Where Did Those Four Pounds Go?

According to my jeans, I weigh less than I did when I bought them four pounds ago. Four pounds less ago, to be specific.

My favorite jeans are a pair of Guess skinny jeans I bought in March 2008. They are a European size 29, one inch smaller than the 7 (the brand name) jeans I wore on Oprah. I weighed 128 when I bought the Guess jeans and 132 when I wore the 7s. Today, I’m 132 and the Guess jeans fit great while the 7s are baggy.

What the…? Where the heck did those four pounds go?

My guess is there are three things happening:

1. I’m 46 and things (a polite way of saying body fat) have shifted.
2. I’ve lowered the cardio and upped the strength training time and intensity, therefore increasing muscle mass.
3. I’m retaining water.

I wrote a few months ago how I was backing off the carbs and taking that once-a-day chocolate fix out of my diet. This seems to have worked well for my overall health, but it’s done nothing in terms of the scale. I weigh the same now as I did when I cut 100-150 calories from my daily intake. But I feel different, in a good way, particularly around my midsection.

Mid summer, my Guess jeans were snug around the middle so I didn’t wear them. I dug them out last Sunday “just to see” and they fit like a glove with a little wiggle room!

Maybe my scale needs a new battery. My friend Barbara wrote to me a few weeks ago about how her scale was weighing her higher every week and she couldn’t figure out why. She bought a new battery and bingo! Four pounds were gone. I’m not, however, holding out hope that that is the solution.

I plan to talk to my doctor in January about this water retention issue, which makes me a little physically uncomfortable, and she might decide to put me on a water pill. But like the battery, I’m not counting on it to change the scale.

So again, I come to another fork in the “weight road.” I can either accept 132 and enjoy the fact that my favorite jeans fit again, despite having not lost weight or I can get pissed and fight to get back to 128. That would mean cutting even more calories from my daily intake and upping the exercise. To be honest, I just don’t have it in me. I like how much I eat. I am comfortable with how much I work out. Five hours a week (or less some weeks) is all I can give right now.

So I’ll give up bragging rights to the 120s for awhile or perhaps forever. No biggie. I can still rock a pair of size 29 jeans and a size 4 skirt. Where those four pounds went, I can only guess. All I know is they’re definitely not in my boobs!
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NOTE: I know blog reading goes down a little the closer we get to Christmas, but in my next blog which I’ll post by Monday, I’ll be giving away a holiday gift to one of you as my way of saying thanks for being the most awesome readers a girl could ever ask for. The gift? A one-year subscription to my favorite nutrition publication, Nutrition Action Newsletter. I’ll tell you how to put your name in the pool, so to speak, in my next blog.

Also, in my last blog I said I’d be posting a Q&A with “Today Show” nutrition expert Joy Bauer next week. I am soooo screwed up on my dates. I meant the week between Christmas and New Year’s. If you’d like to ask Joy a question about nutrition or dieting, send me an email at lynnbering@verizon.net or post a comment.

Joy’s book, “Joy’s LIFE Diet” (you’ll recognize the woman on page 240!) is coming out in paperback later this month under the title “Your Inner Skinny: Four Steps To Thin Forever.”

I’ll be giving away a signed copy of the hardcover edition, so look for the Q&A in two weeks for info on how to win!
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One more thing. To those of you who write a blog, have you noticed an upsurge in spam comments posted to your blog lately? It’s all I can do to keep up with erasing the damn things every day. Just wondering if it’s just me or if the spammers are out in force all over the Internet. Thanks for your input!

The (Food) Times, They Are A-Changin’

When I was a little girl, I never ate coleslaw, spinach, pecan pie or lima beans, and I never thought there’d be a day when I didn’t eat hamburgers, Cheez Whiz, Girl Scout Thin Mints or bologna (or braunschweiger…they were interchangeable) on white bread.

When I started losing weight five years ago, I said I’d never eat fat-free sour cream, fat-free cream cheese, tofu or celery, and I’d never give up (i.e. “deprive myself” of) bagels, tater tot hot dish, Trader Joe’s turkey bacon or half-and-half.

My how (food) times have changed.

I can’t imagine a day without spinach (cooked or raw); a picnic without coleslaw; making soup without celery or paprikash without fat-free sour cream; eating a whole grain cracker without a smear of fat-free cream cheese and blueberry jam; a salad without edamame, lima beans or garbanzos; or a smidgeon of my mom’s famous pecan pie on my dad’s birthday.

Reason #5479 why this weight-loss journey was successful and I’ve kept the weight off for almost three years is that I don’t subscribe to the mantra “All things in moderation.” I must use tough love with some foods: “No, Lynn, you may never, ever, ever have ________ again!” Granted, that list is VERY short, but it’s VERY necessary.

With all due respect to my bagel-loving blogger friend Lori, bagels are one of those foods (although I enjoy bagels vicariously through Lori when she posts her photos!). So too are Girl Scout Thin Mints. I can’t think of many others off the top of my head. My mother’s chocolate cake with chocolate frosting comes pretty darn close. So do Burger King french fries. What do they put in those things? Crack?

Anyway, the TJ’s turkey bacon was the very last meat-related food I “gave up” when I morphed into a vegetarian earlier this year. (Exception to the rule #1: I confess I eat Jell-O sometimes, which technically precludes me from joining the Vegetarian Society) That was tough. Bacon, as the t-shirt says, is meat candy, and god knows I love me some pork products.

However, bacon became tempeh; tater tot hot dish, well, just lost its appeal; and coffee with half-and-half became fat-free lattes. (Exception to the rule #2: I will enjoy a little Bailey’s in the Christmas coffee, as always.)

What other “never” foods will I change to “sometimes/all the times” food in 2010? I’ll let you know!
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NOTE: I’ll be posting a Q&A with “Today Show” nutrition expert Joy Bauer next week. If you’d like to ask Joy a question about nutrition, dieting, Matt Lauer (*giggle*), send me an email at lynnbering@verizon.net or post a comment.

Joy’s book, “Joy’s LIFE Diet” (you’ll recognize the woman on page 240!) is coming out in paperback later this month under the title “Your Inner Skinny: Four Steps To Thin Forever.”

I’ll be giving away a signed copy of the hardcover edition, so look for the Q&A next week for info on how to win!

My Enemy, My Friend

“One who does not know the enemy but knows himself will sometimes win, sometimes lose. One who does not know the enemy and does not know himself will be in danger in every battle.” Sun-tzu

My enemy: Ice cream/chocolate sauce/chocolate chip cookie mountain at Applebee’s.

Myself: A 130-pound person, give or take a few pounds, who wants to stay 130 pounds.

My youngest daughter….my baby….sniff, sniff….turns 25 on Saturday. She’s enjoying a “birthday week,” so to speak. We and the g-babies kicked it off with lunch at Applebee’s today (before the monster storm hit). I ordered a salad and broccoli, Claire had a grilled cheese and applesauce, and Cass ordered a pizza/pasta/soup bonanza. No problem. I nibbled at the pizza and took a sip of her soup, but it wasn’t enticing to the point of “I have to have more.” It was easy to say no more.

Then came dessert.

Cassie is the queen of ice cream. She’s always loved ice cream and has passed that gene on to her children. Today was g-baby Luca’s first taste.

In a word: LOVE!

I had a bite. Then another. Then another. Oh it was so tasty!

BUT….! I did NOT feel guilty for eating it and I didn’t go overboard. In fact, I hit on the perfect satisfaction-control ratio ever.

I know some of you think I’m a food fascist. But I take every extemporaneous and unexpected food adventure as a learning opportunity because my eating habits from the past sucked. My goal is to be on the Food Dean’s List of happy/healthy eating.

On my way home from P’burgh, as the front moved through and I drove through rain and hail and so much wind, there were also rainbows following me for most of the drive. They were calming, and within that calm, I was able to take in and think about the quote I heard (and posted above) on Talk of the Nation. I really thought about how I know me and how I know my food enemies.

The ice cream mountain at Applebee’s was a potential “enemy,” but because I know me and am comfortable with me, I can know and be comfortable with my enemy. Overeating and overindulging isn’t part of who I am anymore. Living in the moment and eating mindfully reminds me of my goals and my overall “food purpose”: to eat what sustains my body. Sometimes that includes ice cream with hot fudge and chocolate chip cookies.

My enemy. My friend.

As you all know, it’s been a rough few days. I thank you all so very, very much for your comments and email about the death of our dog Jake. Larry says thank you as well. More than thank you, actually. Your comments are helping him deal with this loss more than you can ever know.

Here are my babies. I really miss Jake. But I’m comforted in that for the first time in two years, the boy is at peace. We did the right thing.

Who's A Good Dog? (A Farewell to Jake)

Note to readers: You might want to grab a Kleenex.

You’re sleeping soundly in the dining room, right in front of the door as you always do this time of day. Must have been the Xanax I gave you.

We had a rough weekend, didn’t we? More so you than your dad and me. We can't fix what's wrong anymore and you deserve more than this life of chronic pain. It is why we've decided to make today your last day. And it is with immense sadness that we will say goodbye to you at 2:30.

Remember 10 years ago when we adopted you from the pound? You were a mangy, sick, unneutered 2-year-old Golden Retriever, only no one believed you were a Golden because you looked so bad. But you showed those naysayers, with your lovely coat and big Golden personality.

For all your shenanigans – all the times you knocked me over or stole my food, ran away and made me chase you all over town, barked at the mailman, peed on the neighbors flower bed (actually, she was mean, so I really wasn’t mad at you for that) – I will miss you deeply.

Thank you, Jake, for always coming to find me when you heard me crying. No one understands me the way you do. You will take with you all my stories and secrets. Thank you for being my confidant all these years.

Thank you always forgiving me when I yelled at you.

Thank you for sharing my apples and keeping me company in the kitchen while I chopped carrots. You knew I’d always give you the ends.

Thank you for being so kind to my grandchildren. Claire will wonder where you are next time she’s here. Not sure how I’m going to explain that one.

Soon we will feed you popcorn and an apple with peanut butter. Maybe even one last piece of cheese. The good stuff, not the kind in the wrapper.

Good bye, old man. I love you and will miss you so very, very much. Especially when I vacuum.

Say hi to Sasha and Bungee for me, OK? Tell them I still miss them, too.
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My daughter also wrote about Jake today on her blog, Sisters From Different Misters.

Jake and his Elvis impersonation.

In Search of the Perfect…

When I was single, I searched for the perfect man, only to find he doesn’t exist. I’ve searched for the perfect weight and it, too, doesn’t exist. But I have met (and married) some really good men, and I have weighed (and currently weigh) a healthy weight. Some things I had to stop searching for perfect because my expectations were unrealistic. Good, funny and dependable replaced perfect when I met my husband. Healthy replaced perfect when I got to goal.

However, some things I’ll never stop searching for perfect.

Workout shoes. I love Asics, but it doesn’t stop me from trying on the latest Nikes.

Tea. I’m really loving sampling the loose leaf green teas at Republic of Tea. Dragon Well is good. Green Chai is better. Big Green Hojicha is next. And I’m making the chocolate tea work by steeping it with a peppermint tea bag. Pretty close to perfect.

Christmas gifts. Last year I bought my daughter a spice rack. Boring, right? She said it was the best gift ever. Sometimes you find perfect in the most unlikely places.

Vacuum cleaner. With three large dogs, I vacuum every day. If my life was a book, it would be called “The Constant Vacuumer.” I currently use a Kenmore upright that I like very much (it got better reviews than Dyson), and it does a good job. I guess in this case, “perfect” would mean someone else vacuuming every day, which will never happen, so instead I’ll search for “better.”

Stuffed peppers. I’ve been experimenting with recipes for stuffed red peppers for about a year now. This is the one I’m currently using, tweaking ingredients here and there (tweaking begets perfection).

Stuffed Peppers
Serves 4

4 red sweet peppers, tops removed, seeded
1 cup onion, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, minced or chopped
2 cup mushrooms, chopped
2 zucchini, chopped
1-2 T veggie broth
1 cup black beans, drained and rinsed
3 cups fresh spinach
1 cup carrots, chopped
1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained (NOTE: I’m going to use fire-roasted tomatoes tonight)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
Italian seasoning to taste (This is where I always tweak. Sometimes I use straight-up basil and oregano, sometimes I throw in some marjoram and rosemary.)
Pepper flakes, few shakes
4 oz mozzarella cheese
4 T parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Spray a casserole dish with cooking spray, put the peppers in upright, spray again, and roast for 10-15 minutes or until just a little brown (you don’t want them mushy). Turn the oven down to 375 degrees.

Spray a skillet with cooking spray, add the veggies and broth, spray again and sauté on medium until crisp-tender. Mix in the tomatoes and tomato paste, and seasonings. Stuff the peppers with the skillet mixture. Top with cheese.

Return peppers to the oven, and cook 20-30 minutes or until cheese is browned.

Veggie burgers. Making a veggie burger that A) doesn’t fall apart; and B) isn’t bland as cardboard has been my mission for two years. For the most part, I’ve perfected A, and last night, I got pretty close to perfecting B.

Veggie Burger That Doesn’t Taste Like Cardboard
Makes 4-6 patties

1 can black beans
½ cup old-fashioned oats (not the quick cooking kind)
1 T ketchup
1 T barbecue sauce (I used Trader Joe’s brand)
½ cup finely chopped mushrooms
1 medium carrot, finely chopped
¼ cup dried minced onions
1 medium zucchini, shredded
4 cloves garlic, minced
½ teaspoon each chili powder, cumin and black pepper

Place the beans, oats, ketchup and bbq sauce in food processor and pulse until well blended. Transfer to a medium bowl and stir in rest of ingredients. Form into patties. Spray a baking sheet with cooking spray and bake patties at 350 degrees (or until well browned), turning halfway through.

Searching for perfect can be risky sometimes. God knows I’ve set myself up for disappointment on countless occasions. But it can also be exciting and fun. Keeps the cobwebs out and complacency at bay.

Now if I could just find the perfect zero-calorie chocolate brownie…

“I” is for “Indulgence”

I want to thank everyone for their comments and emails regarding my last blog, “I Want To Be Smoochy,” especially those with different views because it really underscores just how diverse we all are in how we relate to food.

For those of you who also read Refuse to Regain, you’ll recognize this post. I wanted to publish it in both my blogs because I believe how we choose to handle indulgences is just as important while losing weight as it is in maintenance.

Granted, what I ate versus what I’d planned to eat on Thanksgiving were not two totally different things, but they were far enough apart to make me take notice of what motivated my choices. It was the two comments in response to my blog offering different points of view about indulgences that I wanted to address here, namely, I’d like to know what “indulgence” means to you in terms of food, and how and if you engage in it.

One reader wrote: “Get a grip, one feast day is not going to undo all the good work you’ve done. You are allowed to celebrate occasionally. You could have eaten A LOT more than you did and it wouldn't have made a dent, because with your steely determination you would have drawn a line under it instantly and been back to your, dare I say it, rigid program the very next day. Let yourself have some moments of indulgence now and then. It’s okay!”

Another wrote: “I think you should let yourself have days where you don’t plan and measure (and let’s be honest, stress about) every single bite you put in your mouth. From the outside it seems just as disordered as binge/overeating. …(T)he fact that you make your family food with “unhealthy” ingredients etc., shows that you understand the social/cultural aspects [of food], and you know one traditional one-day-a-year meal of indulgences will not kill you. To not let yourself share in that indulgence (when you obviously would like to) sends a message to the little eyes around the table as well.

I appreciate this kind of feedback because it helps me better understand food culture and invites me to look closer at my food issues. We all need to engage in that kind of mental housecleaning once in awhile.

So here’s what I know – as of today – about me and food. (Of course this is subject to change the further I prod along this path.)

Planning my food intake is essential. It is my safety net. So, too, is mindful eating. Mindless eating got me obese. Mindless eating fed my emotional issues and kept them suppressed.

So it’s safe to say that I am not one who can indulge mindlessly, and on Thanksgiving, that’s exactly what I did. (Not because of any emotional issues. The stuff was just darn tasty.) And so the problem with T-day wasn’t that I felt I couldn’t indulge, but that I didn’t think about what I was indulging in.

I was drawn to food that, when mindful, I know makes me feel physically ill. Within an hour of those few bites of stuffing and few bites of potatoes and more than a few bites of apple cake, my stomach really hurt. Granted it was a milder stomach ache than I regularly subjected myself to when I weighed 300 pounds and ate every meal mindlessly, but it was reminiscent enough of those old days to remind me of the promise I made when I began this journey nearly 5 years ago: to never again feel like hell after eating.

I don’t feel guilty for what I ate on Thanksgiving and I’m certainly not beating myself up. T-day was a wonderful learning opportunity and a chance to fine tune the way I engage with and relate to food.

Some folks can indulge without thinking about it and bounce right back. I need to plan my indulgences, and when I do, I indulge on food I know won’t make me sick. I had a plan on T-day that I strayed from. Mindless eating took over and my poor stomach paid the price. So while an occasional indulgence won’t kill me, without planning, it will certainly make me miserable.

Yes I know to some my eating regimen seems rigid. But it keeps me sufficiently fed physically and emotionally. Our food choices and plans are as unique as our fingerprints. My hope is that you all find or have found what works for you.

So tell me, does your plan include indulgences?

I Want To Be Smoochy

“We’ll get you off that smack, oh yes we will.”

I know the science, I know the psychology and STILL carbs are an evil temptress.

“We’re givin’ up that smack, oh yes we are.”

We watched “Death to Smoochy” Saturday night. Loved it! Smoochy is good and pure and walks his walk. If he was a person who’d lost a lot of weight, he’d be the kind of maintainer I’d emulate.


And so I aspire to be Smoochy.

We celebrated Thanksgiving on Friday because Daughter #2 worked on Thursday. Daughter #1 and I cooked all the trimmings on Thursday and we packed it all up (along with a husband, boyfriend and stepsons) and headed down to Pittsburgh the next day.

I had a plan. I was going to: eat a lot of squash; have a little artichoke dip and 4 pita chips; measure out ¼ cup of cranberry-orange sauce; and load up on steamed green beans and asparagus. When I planned this out the day before, it made perfect sense.

Here’s what I ate: twice the alloted amount of artichoke dip; some – as in I can’t remember how many – pita chips; a few bites of mashed potatoes (no ordinary mashed potatoes…these suckers included full-fat sour cream and cream cheese); a few bites of stuffing (that I’d made with real butter AND chicken broth which disqualified my vegetarianism for a few seconds); fewer green beans and asparagus spears than I’d planned; 2 cups of squash; two bites of pumpkin pie; and one or two (OK, four, maybe five) GENEROUS bites of apple cake. It was all so damn good that I…and I hate to admit this…couldn’t help myself.

Couldn’t help myself. How sad is that after five years?

Deep breath. Even Smoochy’s emotions overwhelmed him and he almost used a gun to kill his nemesis.

What kept going through my head on the way home was, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” But I know that’s not true in my weight-loss journey. Once I had a day to digest (figuratively, not literally), I realized the T-day food destruction wasn’t as bad as my head made it out to be. The empty-calorie hangover only lasted a day. I’ve not been on the scale yet, and I probably won’t weigh in until Friday, but I’m pretty sure things will be fine. Right now, I just need some distance.

I’m not kicking myself or demeaning myself because I swayed from my plan. I just temporarily forgot my mantra while picking at the T-day food – “How will I feel five minutes after eating this?” – and I didn’t place that thought-out portion on my plate. I just sat at the table and yakked with my family and stuck my fork in this bowl and that bowl and got completely at ease in the moment, forgetting my plan.

But it turned out to be a gift, an eye-opening experience! I was reintroduced to the person I was before – the one who randomly ate whatever. She still lives inside me. She hasn’t visited in awhile, but she lives nearby. OK. I can deal with that. It’s always good to know where your enemy lives.

The best news is that I couldn’t WAIT to eat a smoothie Saturday morning and broccoli for breakfast on Sunday. Just one day and I missed my food routine. So did my body. I felt sluggish and overall yuck when I woke up Saturday. Even though I didn’t eat “that much,” my body said, “WTF?”

Carbs are my nemesis, no doubt. But I’ll continue to aspire to be own superhero. My own Smoochy.

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Me and my family of man:

My children:

And, of course, Claire:

My Thanksgiving

I’m not going to yammer on in this post about all the things I’m thankful for. Instead, I’m going to let Don Henley, Luca, and Claire do my talking for me.

First, Don Henley’s “My Thanksgiving.” It opened my eyes when it came out several years ago. Helped push me over the edge and lose weight for good. I listen to it when I forget my place in this world, forget what I’m thankful for. Below are some of the lyrics and the video. (For some reason, the video starts playing right away. You can stop it.)

Now the trouble with you and me, my friend
Is the trouble with this nation
Too many blessings, too little appreciation
And I know that kind of notion, well, it just ain't cool
So send me back to Sunday school
Because I'm tired of waiting for reason to arrive
It's too long we've been living
These unexamined lives

I've got great expectations
I've got family and friends
I've got satisfying work
I've got a back that bends
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my Thanksgiving

Have you noticed that an angry man
Can only get so far
Until he reconciles the way he thinks things ought to be
With the way things are

Here in this fragmented world, I still believe
In learning how to give love, and how to receive it
And I would not be among those who abuse this privilege
Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge
And I don't mind saying that I still love it all
I wallowed in the springtime
Now I'm welcoming the fall

For every moment of joy
Every hour of fear
For every winding road that brought me here
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my Thanksgiving
For everyone who helped me start
And for everything that broke my heart
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my Thanksgiving

Watching a child’s life unfold and witness their personality emerge is one of the most precious gifts we get. Seeing the world through Claire’s and Luca’s eyes is a sort of redemption because it teaches me that I, too, was once innocent and full of wonder. They soften my edges and ease my remorse and regrets.

This is Luca. He’s only six months, but he’s already pulling himself to standing. He thinks this is hilarious, apparently, as you’ll see in this video. I hope his laughter brings you joy, too.



This is Claire playing recently at my house. You’ll hear her say, “Hey Mum!” when she’s standing on the top of the cellar door.



I am ever so grateful to all of you for reading my blog and for inspiring me with your thoughts, experiences, and stories (and recipes!). I’ll be in back on the blog on Sunday. Until then, I wish you all a happy and peaceful Thanksgiving.

Collarbones and Veins. Weight and Marriage. It’s All About Perception.

Grandbaby Claire was here last week for an overnight. Just before bed, we snuggled on the couch, ate a dish of ice cream, and talked about our day.

“Jake is happy, Mum,” she said, referring to our Golden Retriever panting next to her, hoping to lick the ice cream bowl. She calls me “mum,” I suspect, because that’s what my daughters call me. Every day she’s more aware of the world and people around her.

Wrapped in her blanket with her head resting against my arm, Claire rubbed her fingers along the veins in my hands. Then she climbed on my lap and rolled her fingers over my collarbones. She was mesmerized by these protrusions. I didn’t stop her, even though I was embarrassed. After all, I did the same thing to my mother and grandmother, and they didn’t stop me.

When I lived in younger skin, and later an obese body, my veins and collarbones were hidden. I didn’t realize I had them or pay attention that they were there. Now that I’m older and have lost a few pounds, my veins protrude like a blue river under my pale skin and my collarbones are a tempting teething ring for grandbaby Luca.

My grandkids aren’t the only ones who notice. Several people have written to me over the last few years (a few more recently) and told me I’m too thin, otherwise my bones wouldn’t stick out like they do. Reading this, I feel exposed, and I almost (almost) feel like I should apologize for getting older or losing weight (that’s Old Me thinking, I know, but it’s still so strong). My genetics are what they are and I can’t change the way my body has evolved. So like I’ve done with excess skin and wrinkles, I can either learn to accept what is or appease the perceptions of other people and gain weight/apologize/live in aversion.

I choose to accept.

Public perception’s a bitch, and I’m as guilty as the next person of jumping to conclusions. For instance, I watched an interview with James Cameron tonight on “60 Minutes.” Morley Safer mentioned Cameron had been married five times. Five times? What a flake, right? Only losers get married that many times!

But wait. I’ve been married four times. Four. Times. One less than Cameron’s five. How does that make me, in the public eye, any different? Most people when they hear I’ve been married four times conclude I have commitment issues. While that is (was) part of the story, it’s by no means the entire truth. Knowing that about myself, I should also know there’s more truth behind Cameron’s five marriages, too. And yet I make snap conclusions.

Then there’s morbid obesity. When I was 300 pounds, how many people probably thought I was that way simply because I ate too much? Again, that’s part of the story, but hardly the entire truth. Yet when I see morbidly obese people, my first thought is they eat too much, too. Geez oh man. I don’t want that conclusion dumped on my plate and yet I dish it out to others! How perverted is that?

To fill people in on our entire truths 24/7 would be exhausting if not impossible. People are going to think what they will. But my terse conclusions of others is needs to change based mostly on my finally confessed fear of being misunderstood.

I’m a bony, middle-aged woman who formerly weighed 300 pounds and has been married four times. If that’s all you knew about me, what would you conclude?

I know what I’d think, and it’s narrow-minded and wrong. But I know that this jump-to-conclusions mindset is something I can change, unlike my collarbones and veins, fat history and four marriages. There’s always more to our stories and the entire truth is probably way more interesting than the story based on our initial conclusions.

Here’s to no more false perceptions! *clinkingglasses*

A New Tea Day and T-Day

As I wrote last March, I’m a tea freak (see Tea Time) and from that, learned many of you are, too. Thanks to Lori and Kimberly, I have both SensibiliTeas and Teavana in my Favorites file and will try both companies this winter as soon as I’m off my holiday high from Celestial Seasonings Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride and Candy Cane Lane.

While I normally wouldn’t buy more tea until the SCSR and CCL were gone, Joy Bauer mentioned on her Facebook page that her office had received a sample of Double Dark Chocolate Mate tea from The Republic of Tea. Chocolate tea? I had to check that out.

My order arrived yesterday and I made a pot this morning with which to experiment. Here’s my review:

By itself: Eh…it’s OK. Smells divine, though.

With stevia: Very good. The sweetener brought out the chocolate flavor.

With ½ cup plain soy milk and stevia: Very good, however I suspect it would be even better with vanilla soy.

With 2 T fat-free half-and-half and stevia: A little better than plain, but a little on the funky tasting side.

I’ll have another cup tomorrow with just stevia and see if it grows on me. Chocolate tea is different; not at all like my usual teas. Plus this one has caffeine – not much, but some. I didn’t feel any effect, though.

The Republic of Tea catalog lists 17 “Be Well Red Teas.” I know many tea companies blend teas for specific ailments or to enhance wellbeing, but I’ve never tried them. Have you? Do they work? I’m particularly curious about the blends that promise a “sensual nudge” (their words, not mine), a healthy heart, more energy, better skin and a good nights sleep. Let me know your experiences.

I roasted a pumpkin the other day just to test its consistency. I was also curious what it tasted like and discovered it’s MUCH better than canned. More alive, less bland. Mix it with a little butter and maple syrup…heaven.

I’ve also clipped several roasted pumpkin recipes and thought I’d use roasted pumpkin in place of canned in soup recipes. I also want to make our T-day pumpkin pies just as my grandmother Katinka would have made them 100 years ago. Actually, I don’t make the pie. My daughter Carlene does. That’s her domain. However, she’s baking with au naturale pumpkin because I’m the one paying for the ingredients. I told her she can blame me if her pies turn out like crap. That’s only fair.

I’m pretty sure Katinka didn’t pick up a can of pumpkin at the grocery store or buy a pre-made crust in a tube. She cooked the pumpkins herself , and probably grew them, too. I had the good fortune to learn from her and my mother how to make a pie crust, so hopefully I can pass that on to my daughter. We tried an unusual recipe last year that turned out very well, but for the life of me I can’t find now. So much for being organized. Guess I’ll rely on the old Betty Crocker cookbook this year.

Pies are as far as I’ve gotten in my Thanksgiving preparation – although I do have a free-range turkey on order that I can pick up on Monday. $2.49 a pound was too good a price to pass up. While I don’t eat turkey anymore, when I did I was always disappointed in the sodium-laden Butterballs and other store-bought frozen turkeys. I’d love to cook a wild turkey for the crew. I’d even eat a bit of that.

I’m sure our menu will include the usual: sweet potatoes, party potatoes, stuffing, orange cranberry sauce, crescent rolls, and black olives. Oh, and green bean casserole. Why, I’m not sure since no one really eats it. It’s a carb-laden feast, yes, but if I broke with tradition, my family would disown me. It’s once a year. I love to cook for them. So there you go.

As for me, I’ll probably eat some sweet potatoes and cranberries. Maybe a sliver of pie. I know if I eat the stuffing I’ll feel like crap because my body’s not used to it, so I’ll avoid that. My joy truly is making the meal. I also cherish our “table time” before the meal. Everyone goes around and talks and/or prays about what they’re thankful for. And they all know they can’t just say, “Thank you for everyone” and pass it to the next person. Nope. They know to come prepared. Carlene even warned her new boyfriend who will be joining us. No one escapes the spotlight, she told him. If you can’t handle it, you don’t belong in our family. //word

This food attitude is a complete reversal from last year. I’m not approaching the holiday with the same angst I wrote about in 2008 (see Because I Said So). Another year of maintenance, another year of learning, I guess. Life’s too short for me to be pissed that I can’t eat potatoes in mass quantities! LOL

I hope your holiday plans are free from the stress of wondering what you “should” and “shouldn’t” eat. Remember your reasons for wanting to lose or maintain your weight and let those be your guide. Be good to yourself and have a sliver of pie if you want. Don’t let it derail you and send your head into a major self-persecuting meltdown. You’re worth WAY more than that.

Lynn “The Refrigerator” Bering

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen last night. One thing I did was make a fabulous new recipe I found on Veggie Venture . I made it while g-baby Claire sat on the counter playing with spoons and whisks and plastic bowls. Who knew kitchen utensils could be such good babysitters?

This Curried Squash recipe (if you love curry) is to die for. (It was so good I had leftovers for breakfast this morning.) Also, while the squash roasted in the oven, I made a fabulous veggie soup using my first-ever homemade vegetable broth. I have to say, it’s better than any boxed, canned or cubed veggie broth I’ve ever bought. I’m not sure I can go back to the store-bought. Dammmit. Now I’m destined to make veggie broth every other week.

All this time in the kitchen meant frequent trips to the refrigerator, which started me thinking, “If you want to get to know someone, look at their refrigerator.” A refrigerator speaks volumes about who a person is and what’s important to them. Besides, if you want to know a little something about someone, looking at their fridge is way less intrusive than looking in their medicine cabinet.

My refrigerator tells the ongoing story of my life. There are photos all over it that I rotate every few weeks depending on if there’s been a birthday, holiday, get-together, or just random silliness.

Holding the photos in place are magnets from businesses I use and places I’ve been. Included in my collection is a magnet photo of Socks the Cat I bought at the Clinton Library in Little Rock; one from Chincoteague Island I bought when I was married to someone else; random magnets from Minnesota, New York and California; and a few from the Andy Warhol Museum. There’s one from the salon I go to and one from the vet’s office. Calendar magnets from our insurance company come in handy when I hang paintings by Claire because they’re big.

As for the inside of my refrigerator, it’s a fairly healthy testimony to how I eat. You’ll see the random frozen yogurt container, perhaps scoff at the sticks of butter, maybe wonder what I’m doing with so many types of jam (I’ll never give up the jam), and think, “She drinks boxed wine?” (yup, I do). But my refrigerator is a picture of health compared to six years ago when my fridge was stuffed with fat-laden leftovers and condiments as well as take-out I forgot were there.

I’m amazed by how many people are like the old me, who have no idea what’s in their refrigerator. These days, I have the contents of mine memorized, including most sell-by and use-by dates. This doesn’t make me a saint or anything. I just have a good memory and the desire to keep tabs on all the food I consume. If I slice a tomato, wrap up the unused part and put it in the crisper, I remember it’s there and create a sandwich or omelet around it before it goes bad. At least I usually do.

There’s always the occasional food that I open or have made and not liked much, but I’ve kept it anyway “just in case.” I know it’s there, but it gets pushed further and further to the back. By the time I throw it away, it has died a natural death and I feel less guilty for letting it go. (It’s a mind game, I know. But I have to tell myself that two tablespoons of peanut sauce or the year-old jar of barbecue sauce won’t feed the world.)

In many ways, my refrigerator is a lot like me. After many soul-searching years, the person I am now on the outside reflects who I am on the inside. My outside shows happiness as well as age (i.e. refrigerator has photos and magnets, and I have grey hair and wrinkles, but a big old smile). On the inside is maturity (i.e. the refrigerator contains no more double cheese pizzas, and I’ve quit, for the most part, the negative self-talk).

I’m no longer embarrassed by my “refrigerator.” Anyone who visits or attends my parties is welcome to take a look. Just don’t look in the medicine cabinet. That might be a little harder to explain.

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P.S. Apologies for reverting back to the other way of leaving messages. I keep forgetting to click on that super secret button when I post. This will most likely happen again, so bear with me.

Also, thank you for your responses to my recipe post. Lori, the Brussels sprouts recipe sounds challenging, only in that while shredding those little buggers I know I’ll shred my knuckles, but I’m going to give it a try. Blood adds no calories, right? Debby, my husband (your kindred spirit) gauges his veggie taste on how “British” they are, as in boiled just right or boiled to death. Lynn, thanks for the sprouts recipe! McLauren, LOVE cauliflower that way! And Pat, your okra story…so sad. I would sit in a chair for days if it meant I didn’t have to eat it. It’s like snot on a fork.