Thanking A 16-Year-Old Life Changer

Tomorrow is my oldest daughter’s birthday. She will be 27. I want to share an essay I wrote when she turned 16, and I’m posting it today because I will be in Pittsburgh tomorrow celebrating her birthday with her sister and the rest of the family. (Some of you may recognize this essay. I posted it on ZenBagLady several years ago.) While it’s 11 years later, my sentiments are the same. I love Carlene unconditionally, and I owe her my life. Happy birthday, honey.

Well, here you are, 16 years old today, and I can’t think of what to buy you to mark this crossroads birthday. Clothing will only wear out, jewelry will get tangled and forgotten, figurines will chip and end up on a table at a garage sale.

What do I get a girl who has changed my life so profoundly, expected nothing less than everything from me, taught me promises are not contingencies?

I thank God every day for you, that you came into my life when you did. After your dad died, you were my only reason to live. Our 1 a.m. feedings watching Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons, the dozens of car trips that first year to visit your grandparents singing “Apples and Bananas” and “Jelly Man Kelly” over and over to pass the time, waking to find you peeking out at me between the bars on your crib and playing peek-a-boo when I should have been getting ready for work.

These were not just distractions from sadness. Our life together has always been tightly bound by love and wonder.

I was overwhelmed by how protective my love could be the day you came home from first-grade and cried (which you rarely did) because the other girls in your class wouldn’t invite you to play with them during recess. It broke my heart to think no one would give you a chance – you, the most quiet and sweet girl I’d ever known. It’s why today I defend you against anyone who hurts you.

I know you don’t always understand the animosity I harbor for people who have caused you pain, especially the ones you have forgiven. Maybe someday when your daughter cries because someone pushed her down, called her a name, broke her heart or a promise, you’ll understand.

From the day you colored your walls red and told me you didn’t know where the crayon was, to the time you stood on top of the stairs, hands on your 3-year-old hips, and yelled, “Mommy, you piss me off!”, to the day you walked out the door with a boy on your arm and high heels on your feet and gave me a little wave from his car, I’ve watched in awe as you’ve grown up with the kind of conscience and self-awareness some people never find even if they live to be 100.

As each year passes, you peel back the secrets life holds – the freedom that comes from tying your own shoes and staying out past dark, and the knowledge that it’s OK to make mistakes or eat last night’s leftovers for breakfast.

Soon I will teach you to drive, which will be a far different experience then when I taught you to ride your bike. When I ran behind you while you rode, white-knuckled, on your two-wheeler, my hand only rested on the back of the seat but it made you think I was steadying the bike. You didn’t know you were doing all the work. You didn’t want me to let go, but you wanted me to let go. You saw ahead of you, with the wind blowing across your face, the freedom you wanted and feared. The decision was yours and after days of practice, you yelled “Let go!” and you sped up as I slowed down.

Now it’s me who sits at the junction of your emancipation and my desire to hang on to the familiar. I want to let go but I want to hang on, steady you with my guiding hand, make decisions for you. But as you’ve told me many times lately, you can think for yourself and you hate it when people treat you as though you can’t or don’t.

I promise I’ll try to never be one of those people.

I hope God lets your dad take a look at you every once in a while, during those times you’re singing or long-jumping or sleeping between your flannel sheets with the yellow blanket we wrapped you in when we took you home from the hospital.

It’s the least God could do for the man who was the first to hold you, sing to you, and rock you to sleep.

So happy birthday, honey. No gift I could give you could show you how glad I am you are my daughter. If there is a gift to be given it is from you, for without you these last 16 years, I would never have learned the meaning of unconditional love.

The Curious Case of Body Mass Index

Whether it’s before we start losing weight, in the process, or close to the end, we all ask the question, “Where is goal?”

For a lot of us, goal is a scale number that incorporates a BMI number of 25 or below since anything above 25 is considered overweight, right? But, as we’ve talked about before, BMI isn’t always an accurate indicator of health or healthy weight, especially – as I found out reading my blogging partner Barbara Berkeley’s latest blog on Refuse to Regain – for those of us who’ve been morbidly obese.

Here’s part of Barbara’s blog. To read it in its entirety, visit Refuse to Regain.

The patient in front of me is Mr. C, a 308-pound man who has been sent by one of my favorite referring doctors. This doctor truly cares about the health of his patients and it shows. In fact, Mr. C’s physician is a triathlete, eats for health and practices what he preaches. He’s never been overweight. His clients are devoted to him and Mr. C is no exception. But Mr. C. is worried. He genuinely wants to lose weight but the doctor he so much wants to please has told him that he needs to reach 170 pounds: the white or “healthy” zone of the BMI chart.

“Doc,” he says earnestly. “Is that possible? I’ve never been that light, not even in high school.”

Twenty years ago, the term BMI was part of the foreign language of doctors, a measurement that was recorded on the chart and remained obscure to patients. Today, nearly every dieter understands, (and sometimes obsesses about), his or her niche on the BMI chart.

…I have a somewhat different take on BMI. Yes, we know that weight gain impacts our health negatively. We know that even small amounts of weight gain put us at risk. But what happens once the horse is out of the barn? Once we have gained that weight, incurred that new risk, what then? Are the rules for “healthy” BMI the same after gain has occurred? This question brings us to a larger and more fascinating issue: Is there some permanent change that occurs within us once we have been overweight that changes those rules? I believe the answer is yes.

What I call POWs (previously overweight people) seem to be quite different from NOWs (never overweight people). As someone who was a NOW in my earlier years and is now a POW, I can attest to the fact that my physiology has changed. Can I prove this scientifically? No. We have now crossed over into the area of observation and opinion. Read on with that knowledge.

In my view, weight gain occurs when the normal mechanism that controls and stabilizes weight is damaged by over-exposure to elements of the SAD (standard American diet). Once the damage is done, I believe that we remain prone to weight gain. We can prevent this by avoiding the foods that caused the damage in the first place, but we must be extra careful. Most POWs cannot eat mindlessly anymore.

This tendency to weight regain may also have to do with fat cells which remain in the body, but which no longer contain fat. No one knows if depleted, empty cells signal the brain or cause other kinds of hormonal havoc. So what does this have to do with optimal BMI? When we gain weight, the body has to manufacture new fat cells to store the oily triglycerides which are being created. These cells are supported by a scaffolding of connective tissue and muscle. After weight loss, the fat cells are emptied, but some of the tissue may remain. Many POWs find that they simply cannot lose enough weight to reach the white area (or normal range) of the BMI chart. This may well be because the BMI chart is based on the weights of those who have never been heavy, in other words, the weights of NOWs. Since NOWs have never manufactured new fatty tissue, their baseline weights are lower.

I love what I do, but I have written before about the one part of my job I don’t enjoy. That would be the very last phase of a patient’s weight loss. Almost without exception, my patients are unhappy with their final weights. This happens even when they have lost 60, 80, or 150 pounds. Each one longs to get down “just a little more!” Each one feels like a failure for not reaching the white zone (of the BMI chart). This is the point at which BMI charts become tyrannical, and for no good reason. The rules for optimal BMI in the POW are different, just as pretty much everything else is different for POWs. Since there are no established guidelines for optimal weight in the POW, I can only offer my own take.

1. If you have been significantly overweight, a loss of 20% of your pounds is highly successful and is what I usually target. If you’ve lost more, great!!
2. Your optimal BMI should be the one at which you have eliminated or greatly minimized any weight related medical issues (especially blood pressure, diabetes, and lipids). In some people, remnants of the problem will remain, but the vast majority can expect significant improvement and decrease of medications.
3. Your optimal BMI should be one at which you can comfortably maintain.

Number three is probably the most important guideline, because weight loss is of no consequence if it ends in regain. POWs who push themselves to very low weights often do so at the expense of muscle tissue. If you start to look wasted, your vital muscle mass may be dissipating. At such low weights, and without muscle to help out with calorie burning, you will have to make do with what I call “two peas and a bean.” That’s not fun, that’s not life, and that’s not sustainable.

Shoot for maintenance, comfort, health, mobility. These will stand you in good stead whatever your BMI zone.

Avoiding the Perfect Boredom Storm, Here’s What I Learned This Weekend

It was just me and the puppies this weekend. It's not that I mind being alone, but on Friday I knew I faced the Perfect Boredom Storm if I didn’t have a strategy.

Two things were converging Friday morning: I had no plans or deadlines; and although the ice and snow sheets in my backyard are melting like Arctic glaciers, it’s still *expletive* winter and I couldn’t spend copious amounts of time outside.

Thankfully, the Perfect Boredom Storm didn’t have a chance to form. I had lunch with Fabulous Friend Pam who brought me a VitaTop to try (I was a Vita Anything virgin) and invited me to a book signing Saturday in Pittsburgh.

Getting out of town was exactly what I needed to do. Saturday was a great day of books and friendship and lunch and Whole Foods and g-baby Claire (Luca was sleeping) and a new appreciation for the longer days and the spectacular sun on the drive home.

Breaking it down into the top few things I learned and made me happy, this weekend, here’s my list:

1. No matter how comfortable the couch is and how little energy I have to leap and retrieve, do NOT allow Dog #1 to eat Dog #2’s rawhide after she’s already eaten her own. What results is stinky and green and runny and not easy to pick up with plastic grocery bags while I’m wearing oversized gloves. (I grabbed the first available gloves on top of the bin. Obviously not a good choice.)

2. It’s really busy at Whole Foods on Saturday. For a place that attracts health-conscious people, an awful lot of folks hold up traffic driving around the parking lot or stop and wait for long periods of time while shoppers unload their carts just so they can get a close parking spot. There’s a two-story parking ramp at the end of the Whole Foods parking lot, but the Land Rovers and Smart Cars just circle and circle and circle…

3. Pittsburghers really like Shirataki Noodles. Every time I go to Whole Foods, the few packages left are crammed in the back of the shelf, like there was a mass run on noodles. While I was bent over (because they’re on the bottom shelf) and digging around for both the linguine and spaghetti style noodles, a woman stood patiently next to me, waiting for her turn to scavenge. (I’ve yet to encounter rudeness at Whole Foods. I’m pretty sure you’d be asked to leave if you were rude.) Because she was patient (and I didn’t want to be kicked out), I only took three of the five remaining linguine noodles and four of the seven spaghetti. (Yes, I was going to buy them all.)

4. I really (emphasis on really) like deep-chocolate VitaTops. “Heat it up,” was Pam’s instruction when she tossed the plastic wrapped chocolate chunk on the table before lunch. Today, I heated it up and threw a ¼ cup of Breyer’s fat-free double-churned strawberry ice cream on top. Oh my. I enjoyed it very much (emphasis on very). Maybe too much. I’ve concluded that, like Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies, Vita stuff cannot occupy space in my freezer. I’ll store them at my daughter’s house 60 miles away and portion them out top by top, muffin by muffin, under her supervision.

Potential boredom turned into a contented happy this weekend. The only almost sad thing to happen was that I almost hit a robin while driving to Pittsburgh. Luckily he cleared my windshield before I crossed his path traveling 70 miles an hour. I’m sure killing a robin would bring on six more weeks of winter.

The purple finches are back at my backyard feeders, it will be almost 50 degrees tomorrow, and Helen Mirren is absolutely gorgeous at 65 (I’m watching the Oscars as I type). It was a good weekend.

The Art of Artichokes

Writing about artichokes – particularly how to eat them – is very difficult without sexual undertones, so please let this serve as a warning that this blog entry is PG13, perhaps R, depending on where your mind wanders.

I posted this several years ago on my former blog, ZenBagLady, but after buying four lovely artichokes at Trader Joe’s yesterday, I decided to republish it because I really, really love artichokes. And I don’t mean that in any other way other than I really do love artichokes. They’re probably my favorite veggie. (I say probably because I don’t want to offend broccoli, which comes in a close second.)

Artichokes are a very sensuous vegetable, and best eaten by candlelight. My husband introduced me to them 14 years ago, and when they’re in season, we eat them a few times a week. The process of eating them is like a spiritual ritual because they're way more than a vegetable. Artichokes are an experience like no other food.

The key is buying the right artichoke. You don’t want limp, withered leaves. Look for tight, firm globes. That’s a good indicator that there’s a lot of meat at the bottom of the leaves and in the heart.

Steam or simmer them, but be careful not to let the hearts turn to mush. (Click here for a pictorial of how to prepare artichokes from Simply Recipes.) The centers should be firm yet easily penetrated with a knife. Melt some butter in a bowl and pour balsamic vinegar in another. Set the artichokes and dips on the table, along with lots of napkins, and a fork and a knife and a plate.

Peel back an outer leaf. Dip the bottom in the butter and then the vinegar, then scrape it between your teeth. Repeat this process layer after layer after layer. There won’t be much meat on the outer leaves, but good things come to those who wait. Artichokes are a lesson in faith and patience. Faith that the heart is there under all the leaves and patience in knowing that getting to the heart is part of the fun.

As the leaves come off and your teeth scrape away each luscious layer, you’ll find the sweet spot – the heart, the place you’ll pledge your undying love for this awesome vegetable.



But like some medieval video game, before you can eat the heart, you must get past the choke – that fuzzy, dangerous layer. It’s astringent in the mouth and will stick in your throat like cat fur. Ingest it and I guarantee it will interrupt your artichoke experience. However, if you trim the choke just right by shaving it clean with your butter knife (sorry, there was no other way to word that), you’ll be rewarded with a heart so opulent and true it’ll make you weep.

Cut the heart into four or more pieces and dip each in the butter and then the vinegar. Chew slowly. Shut your eyes, even. Enjoy each succulent taste. Don’t rush it. Slow is best (remember patience).

And that, my friends, is how you eat an artichoke. (Just don't smoke a cigarette after eating one, although you might feel like it...just sayin'.)

fitbook™ Giveaway Winner!

I wish I had 32 fitbook™ journals to give to all of you entered to win. Thank you for sharing your journal philosophies. Congrats to reader Enz for winning this morning!

A blog is forthcoming, as soon as I get the morning sleepies out of my head. My body's been up for a few hours, but my mind is still asleep....zzzzzz....

(Giveaway Alert!) fitbook™ is Journaling…And You KNOW I’m All About Journaling

A few weeks ago, Lynn’s Weigh was part of the international Blog Your Heart Out Day to raise awareness of women’s heart health (see “Lady In Red, Do You Know Your Numbers?”) I was so encouraged to hear from many of you who either knew your numbers or went straight to your doctor and had a blood draw (that wasn’t so bad, was it?). Knowledge is power! Knowing your numbers can help keep your fitness goals on track.

So can the very spiffy fitbook™ (with a little “f”).

Leading the BYHO campaign is Angela Manzanares, founder of fitlosophy, inc., which makes the fitbook™. Angela asked if I’d take a look at the fitbook and if I liked it, give one away to one of Lynn’s Weigh’s readers.

I can wholeHEARTedly say that I don’t just like fitbook™. I love it! (And, no, I’m NOT paid to say that. In an earlier post I'd forgotten the word "not"! OOPS!)

Why I love fitbook™ so much is because it is exactly the kind of tool that fits with my own philosophy that journaling is key to weight loss and maintenance. You know I’m always harping at you about journaling: journaling thoughts and feelings about weight, journaling food intake, journaling exercise strategies and goals. Turns out I’m right! Research suggests that people who write down their goals are 75 percent more likely to achieve them.

Because there was no fitbook™ when I was starting out (and yes, I walked uphill both ways through the snow to school, too), I used blank journals, Word, a homemade spreadsheet, bar napkins, whatever it took to record my daily feelings/food/exercise.

To lessen that clutter, fitbook™ is a 12-week journal in which you establish goals and track your food and fitness strategies for achieving those goals. It is a square, flexible spiral-bound book with pages and pages of food logs, nutrient and fitness trackers. (Click here for a little demo.)

It’s compact so you can take it with you to the gym, and its vinyl cover cleans up easily. fitbook™ also comes with a pen, and there’s a pouch in the back to hold your membership card and/or $$ for an after workout smoothie (no trips to DQ!).

The fitbook™ costs $19.95 each or 4 for $75.95. The fitlosophy site also offers an e-newsletter and fitness tips through its website.

If you’d like to win a fitbook™, leave a comment or send me an email at lynnbering@verizon.net and tell me a little about your journaling efforts or intentions. I’ll announce a random winner on Friday!

Keep in mind, heart disease is the #1 killer of women. To learn more, go to Go Red For Women. I joined the site and found a ton of great info about heart health. If you’re on Facebook, become a fan by clicking Go Red For Women Fan Page.

And while you’re on FB, become a “fan” of Lynn’s Weigh! Click here to join our conversation.

To read fitlosophy’s press release about BYHO and learn more about the American Heart Association’s 12-week fitness and nutrition plan, click here.

See ya'll on Friday! Good luck!

To Lose Weight: Avoid Emotional Drama (at least I think so)

Have you ever read something that you think about for days, like a song that gets stuck in your head? All weekend I thought about one line from the cover story in this month’s Arthritis Today. It was like a hammer to the head – an AHA! moment – only I didn’t know why. I couldn’t immediately (and still can’t…thus this blog) connect it to the context my subconscious saw was there.

Sandy is a 50-year-old woman living with rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia. I can only imagine the kind of pain she lives with, and yet she walks up to 5 miles on the beach every chance she gets. That’s inspirational to me in and of itself. But that’s not what dogged me all weekend. It was this line: By getting regular exercise, as well as closely monitoring her diet and avoiding emotional drama, Sandy says she’s been able to safely manage her RA and fibromyalgia.

The first two principals – exercise and diet – we all know in a yadda-yadda-yadda kind of way are keys to losing weight and keeping it off. But what about that third principal: “…avoiding emotional drama”? Yes, Sandy was talking about managing a disease, but I really believe emotional drama – both our own and other people’s – matters in how we lose and maintain weight.

Maybe ya’ll have already thought about this, so forgive me for being late to the party. I’ve just not put the two together in cognitive terms before. The rest of this blog is about the links I’m starting to see between emotional “drama” and weight.

Excess weight is its own emotional drama, right? Whether we feel ashamed or embarrassed about our bodies, or beat ourselves up when we fail, this lack of self acceptance fuels the gain-loss-gain cycle. Nothing like a little Ben & Jerry’s to ease the pain of self-flagellation or my personal favorite: “I can never change, so why bother?”

Avoiding emotional drama of excess weight doesn’t mean avoiding the issue of weight. It means swapping negative for positive dialogue and not engaging in “poor me.” The moment I start in with negative self-talk is the moment I want to dive head first into a box of Teddy Grahams. Recognizing the relationship between food and my emotions helped me adopt alternative coping mechanisms, like the question I ask myself when faced with a food dilemma: How will I feel five minutes after eating this?

That was the easy drama to dissect. The more complex and sticky drama is that which belongs to our family, friends and associates, and in how we engage in or move within that drama.

One of the things I realized this weekend is that when I engage in someone else’s drama, I avoid my own issues. I think this is why that line – “avoiding emotional drama” – struck such a cognitive chord. When I was finally ready to lose weight for the last time, I’d made myself a priority. To do that, I had to lose the emotional baggage of others. This is a fine line, though. You have to learn how to stop placing yourself in the center of someone else’s issues and listen from the outside and be compassionate from the outside rather than trying to always solve someone’s problem or, worse, think they’re problem is somehow about you when it’s not. That’s different, obviously, from the times when we have caused someone pain by our actions or lack of action.

Over the last five years, I’ve come to hate emotional drama. My friends and (some) family understand that. If I’ve done something that has hurt someone I love and I have no clue, I rely on them to tell me rather than ignore me. I spent years pacifying people and I don’t have the will or energy for it anymore. I’m learning to own my issues (whether I recognize them on my own or are brought up to me) and to separate other people’s issues from our own. Working out issues before they become emotional drama is worth it with those we love. It’s not easy by any means, but what’s most important to achieve in our lives is rarely easy.

So how does this all relate to weight loss and maintenance? For me: Teddy Grahams. Or mashed potatoes. Or stress (cortisol, anyone?). Or negative self talk. When emotional drama enters my life, it eventually shows up on the scale.

I’m doing pretty well with the diet and exercise principles in Sandy’s story. The “avoiding emotional drama” part is a little more tricky.

So….do you think emotional drama hinders weight loss and maintenance? Or am I totally off base on this?