"Good-Attitude Girl"

I read this article in the NYT today about the craziness of being "Bikini Ready." They made mention of a picture of Marilyn Monroe in a 1940's fashion book "looking smashing  in a blue-and-white striped two-piece, a roll of pale flesh at her midsection."  http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/26/fashion/the-bikini-as-a-badge-of-fitness.html so of course I had to see it. Fat roll?!

The title of the article is "Bikini Ready? Who's Judging?" My first thoughts? Everyone. How sad is that? If a picture of me in a bikini with a roll showed up on FB, I would be mortified. I've avoided bikinis, beaches and shaving in general just to make it clear that it was not an option. What is this strive for perfection that we desire to attain? If I eat right and work out, shouldn't I look like Giselle? Don't I deserve to look like Giselle?! Creme brulee can never be jello?!

We are so confused and misguided into what "healthy" is and what "normal" is. Just look at the difference of these two photos taken nearly 70 years apart. 

Sir Henry Royce said, "Strive for perfection in everything you do. Take the best that exists and make it better. When it does not exist, design it.” And design we have. Billions of dollars in plastic surgery, liposuction, work out dvds and overly air-brushed glam magazines all say to us, "Better work harder. You're not there yet." No wonder we're confused.

My favorite part of the article:

"Not all women let the camera-phone-wielding bikini police (or their own self-criticism) stop them from enjoying a two-piece. Ms. Mills calls this type a 'good-attitude girl.'

'She is a phenomenon and totally inspiring,' she said. 'She is of any age, any body, she has a totally great attitude, because she has had a come-to-Jesus moment with her body.'"

Amen to that. God Bless Marilyn Monroe and may I continue to work on being a good-attitude girl.

I'm Obsessed with Derek K. Miller

And now my fiance is too. If you're not familiar, I suggest you get acquainted. He's dead now, but you can read his archived blog at http://www.penmachine.com/. Last night in the apple store, I was playing around with the ipad2 and it was set on youtube so I thought, "Why not?" I searched him. I watched his videos. I watched him sing and play guitar. And I cried. Right there in the store. Then I pulled up the website to show Rumil and as his eyes got teary reading Derek's last post I had to hold myself together so my tears didn't turn into another sob fest.

"Does it remind you of your mom?" He asked. "Do you think it's why it makes you sad?" I think it's just the untimeliness of death. Never that it's good timing but at least if someone lives over 80 you can say, "well, they lived a good, long life." Well not Derek K. Miller, and not my mother.

In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, he was a blogger like before blogs were blogs. This guy has been blogging since 2000, the year I graduated high school, about all things techy and the reason why I now only use one space after periods. I had read about it but he solidified the fact.

In 2007 he was diagnosed with cancer and while he never turned his techy blog into a cancer blog, he does chronicle his experience of living through treatments and eventually dying. So over the past week or so I have read his blog from the diagnosis to the death and let me tell you, it sucks. He has two daughters, a wife, a dog. He doesn't believe in God, or spirits or after life or Heaven or hell. He compares death to a shriveled up flower, there's nothing left.

Towards the end of his life people were sending him diet cherry coke, which apparently you can't get in Canada, and that cheese whiz stuff. Earlier on in the blog he talks about how much he loves McDonald's.

Although not over weight he always had a big appetite. He was diagnosed with Diabetes and has been insulin resistant since the early 90's when he was in college. He always brought up that if they hadn't figured out how to make synthetic insulin he wouldn't have lived past '91, or met his wife, or had his children. But what astounds me is that in a blog entitled "Bring me Diet Cherry Coke and Easy Cheese he says, "And if you say that those are horrible food-like substances that will give me cancer, I will just laugh and laugh." http://www.penmachine.com/2011/04/diet-cherry-coke-easy-cheese

I mean, if you're already on your way out, eat whatever you want, I guess, but I can't help of thinking of the fact that while he understood he was poisoning himself with chemo and radiation, he never understood that had been poisoning his body with food and drink for far longer. It pains me to even say that.

Watching my mom die, reading about him dying, knowing that they both loved diet coke...I don't know. I just think it's weird, you know, the coincidence. Watching my future mother in law drink it now while my future father in law wipes chunks of butter over a piece of lavash after he's already eaten 6 tortillas, mashed potatoes and mac n cheese...I'm at a loss.

I tried to get one of my clients who had chronic headaches for years and years and years off diet coke. She resisted. I don't know what happened but one day she woke up and decided she was over the pop. Hasn't had a headache since. Oh, I remember, she read a website about aspartame poisoning and decided she was poisoned. Moral of the story: she hasn't had a diet coke or a headache since and this was someone that was practically crippled several days out of the month by migraines.

What a crock

I am always dumbfounded by what clients bring in from supposed diabetes experts. Let me quickly review sunday's diabetic menu from a nursing home that was given to me last week: Tomato juice, cereal and french toast w/ syrup and margarine for breakfast, salad, honey turkey, risotto, a french roll and sherbert for lunch followed by cream of spinach soup, corned beef and swiss on rye, fried potatoes and chef's choice for fricken dessert.

And you wonder why his blood sugar shot up to 300 and he had to be put on insulin?!?! If you had one single iota of awareness for blood sugar and/or any knowledge whatsoever of nutrition you would know this is the farthest thing from being diabetic friendly. Read between the lines of what they are serving these diabetic patients: sugar, salt and fat. Are you kidding me? My diabetic grandpa was psyched to be eating mac n cheese after his triple bypass surgery. It makes me sick.

As you can see from looking at this picture on the cover of a daily meal planning how to, her thumb is over the most important part: the ingredients! This is serious. The RD who gave this to my client also told her that you don't have to "count" your sugars and that wine doesn't effect your blood sugar, it only effects your triglycerides. Be serious. This is what happens when your trusted health professional is in it for the money, not because she gives a hoot about your health. Blasphemy.

Transformed

It is with much delight and happiness in my heart that I can report to you that my fiance is a changed man. After he ate and drank whatever he wanted to Friday night, all of Saturday and Sunday at brunch he didn't want to eat much of anything come Sunday afternoon and evening.

When we met his brother's and friends at The Kickin Crab to catch the Bulls game, neither of us ate a thing. Not surprising for me since I don't eat animals pulled out of plastic bags (or animals in general, although the corn and potatoes looked good -they were soaked in Cajun fish oil and most likely GMO) but very surprising for my fiance not to even eat so much as a fry.

He has finals this week and his very kind office manager has given him Mon-Thurs off to study, which is amazing. So yesterday he was around the house studying (for Statistics and Trig mind you) and ate all of the strawberries, a banana, some ikra (Assyrian dish consisting of grilled eggplant, tomatoes and spices) which was good but not as good as his uncle's.

When I got home from work, I quickly blanched some broccoli in my vegetable broth, sauteed a few cloves of garlic while the broccoli dried on a towel, threw it into a pyrex with some chopped tomato (Rumil helped with that), cilantro, feta cheese and of course, fresh cracked pepper, cayenne pepper and salad sprinkle and he ate some salad as well.

Today he studied a bit before heading to school to continue to study for his class and a final tonight. When he text me that he was about to head out I said, "Don't forget to take some snacks! Bar, banana, etc."

His response: "I did :) You transformed me ;)"

Of course that makes any Nutritional Counselor/health nut fiance extremely happy, especially after we watched Up last night and balled our eyes out starting within the first 15 minutes. That movie is not for children. Of course I couldn't stop crying thinking of my dad, my grandpa, my fiance, myself, and every widow out there.

I sobbed. And continued to sob for a bit even after it was over. Rumil cried with me. Life is scary. Death is scary. I don't want to die and have him live the rest of his life alone. What a roller coaster. It reminded me of when my mom died in the hospital when I was 21 years old and I decided I wanted to be alone forever because I didn't want anyone to have to lose a lover, a mother. Rumil is the first man I have loved since her death and that was 7 years ago. Somehow he penetrated my soul, broke my walls down and I love him deeply for that, forever.

Between that movie and reading Derek K. Miller's Penmachine blog http://www.penmachine.com/ which is sort of like the movie My Life only far longer and way more drawn out, I was a bonafied wreck. I tried to hide myself in the bathroom but I couldn't stop crying, plus I left the door open (bad habit) and he came and gave me hug as I was a hysterical mess on the toilet. He rubbed my back to console me and in between sobs I said, "I just want a good life for us." He agreed.

As we were standing there brushing our teeth I asked, "But what if I get the disease my Mom had and can't wipe my own ass?"

"I'll wipe it for you. And I'll wipe the tooth paste off your mouth. Wouldn't be that much different than now," he said with a smile.

I think we both are transformed; in our own ways we have let the love in and let the poison out.

Skinny Bitch

You know what confuses me? That Skinny Bitch, Bethenny Frankel. You know why? She's built a 240 million dollar empire and her drink tastes like shit! If you want a skinny margarita get a shaker, pour a nice tequila in there with a few squeezes of lime, shake it up, pour and enjoy.

Do you really need to buy it prepared? What is this? Skinny slash Lazy Bitch? I respect what she does and I might be a tad jealous, but no bitch ever got skinny drinking a prepared alcoholic beverage with agave nectar and triple sec. It's sick. And who can drink one 4oz cocktail anyway?!

Over the weekend my future Mother in Law, who calls my future Sister in Law Martha Stewart (it's true...it was a graduation party and one of the many things she did was roll up napkins with ribbon like little diplomas) was trying to figure out who I could be compared to since I am the designated salad maker.

All they could think of was the Skinny Bitch. I make bomb salads and I like to drink tequila on the rocks or vodka with soda water and lime so I guess Bethenny is my go to girl in the world of cooking and drinking who I would most aspire to be like. I don't watch her television shows but I hear she's annoying as all get out.

My fiance had a fun weekend of eating and drinking whatever he wanted and was asleep by 7PM on Saturday. Shocker. I can't believe I gave him till 9:30. I should have known better. I will say, having just come off the cleanse, it was nice to be super duper aware of my limits. Friday after dinner, everyone stayed up drinking and I went to bed. It was after 10 and we had to be up at 5 and after 12 days of cleansing I needed to rest. I slept like dookie because of course I gave into "vegetarian pinto beans." When will I learn?

Saturday I stuck with white wine at the party and intermittently drank waaaay to much Assyrian tea. So much so everyone was calling me Fred...that's my fiance's dad. He can drink that stuff and go right to bed; normally I avoid it after 3PM. I left with my FSIL's, aunts and one uncle for a nice walk on the beach and when we got back at 7, I realized, I'm done. I hung out with my future family people, and about 9 PM when the crew decided to hit the bars, I decided my esophagus was burning and my head hurt.

Needless to say I slept like dookie. Bad way to come out of a cleanse. Now I need to get right all over again.

Called It!

Its seven o'clock on the dot, I'm on the bed top fast asleep. I got a real pretty pretty young thang taking pictures of me....

I can't believe I gave him until 9:30! He was so proud of his nacho plate...ahh well.

So What?

I just had a quick chat with my Raw Food Chef (creator of Brackers and Super Stevia)/RN/Mentor. I told her 12 days of  vegan, high raw diet and nothing. My fiance never had a solid poop.

She said, "So what?"

So what? SO WHAT? Janice? Of all people, say so what? Now I really feel like a N-A-Z-I.

"Does he poop?" She asked.
"Yes. It just doesn't float." I said.
"So what?" Was her answer.

Again, So what.

She said men can handle meat, women can't. I said I'm worried about his sister's graduation party tomorrow and she said something along the lines of me chilling out on the whole food police thing.

"Does he feel good?" She asked.
"He feels great." I said.
"Let him eat what he wants tomorrow. Don't worry about it. After cleansing, he's gonna feel it. Or, he may not. Tell him to knock himself out."

And I'm sure that's exactly what he'll do. Knock himself out right into a food coma and be asleep by 9:30 at the latest. I'm calling it now. I'll let you know how it goes.