Ok, so I guess it’s “crunch” time. And I’m not talking about abs – although I probably should be. It’s that time of year where I have a choice to make: diet to lose weight for the holidays or wear big sweaters and enjoy the wonderful food coming my way.
It’s such a challenge – I mean how important is to for me to look good in my dress for New Years versus all the wonderful goodies that I only get once a year. Everywhere I read the buzz words seem to be “in-moderation”. Those that know me realize there is nothing “moderate” about me – but I guess it’s never too late to learn. But it’s so tough – I mean from here on out, I run into many chances for an eating frenzy – and the boundaries and self-appointed guidelines I try to give myself.
I start with Halloween. Do I eat the candy corn, Butterfingers and caramel apples – or skip the candy corn so I can have a Snickers Bar? Do I indulge in the party fare that includes extra chili with cheese and garlic bread and hot apple cider? With every bite, I vow I will walk an extra mile. (At some point in my life, anyway.)
Once Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is around the corner and I have to prepare – I mean it’s my job to sample menu items, and try out new recipes all of which contain sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing, pumpkin pie and apple pie. And that is just the sample menu. After Thanksgiving come the leftovers. And just when I think I may be sick of Turkey, the Christmas parties arrive and there is an array of cookies, cakes and homemade candies. I start salivating over potential Christmas Eve dinners and even try out a few ahead of time. I mean what is Christmas without baked ham, more turkey and mashed potatoes, homemade dumplings and noodles. Again with the pumpkin pie and apple pie and add now the pecan pie with whipped cream and even pumpkin cake and pumpkin muffins and pumpkin bars with cream cheese icing.
This time of year is not quite as pressing as the few months before summer and swimsuit time. And the fact that big sweaters and large coats are the norm during the winter months helps. The fact that it’s dark when I come home from work and immediately don my sweatpants doesn’t help…it’s the elastic waistband curse.
Reality is such that whatever I gain during the holidays will be the price I pay in March and April. My goal is moderation. Moderate sized sweat pants, moderate big sweaters and a moderate amount of Butterfingers, pumpkin pie and sweet potatoes. Add that to the moderate amount of times I think about exercising and “Presto”, I’ve got that magical “in-moderation” key everyone is talking about down pat. So for now, it’s only 2 bite-size Snickers bars for me…I still have to save some for the kids Trick-or-Treating. Or maybe it’s time they started learning about this “in-moderation” thing too.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
The Mind can Trick the Body
“Be careful, don’t hurt yourself. You aren’t 25 anymore, you know.”
This was from my (older) husband as we were hiking in the woods a few days ago, and I was climbing up a fairly rocky hill. I was holding on tightly to the dog’s leash, praying he’d pull me up the steep incline. Instead he kept waiting for me to lead the way – it’s the first time he’s ever actually “heeled” in his life - and for once I didn’t want him to. We got up to the top of the hill safely with no injuries except to my ego, and then and there I wondered what happened to my sense of adventure. I am never afraid of getting hurt. I’ve always loved climbing steep hills and rocks, jumping across streams and running through leaves. True, I’ve spent my share of times with an ice pack or ace bandage, but I never feared getting hurt. It wasn’t until my husband reminded me of my old age that I even considered I could sprain an ankle, hurt my hip or do something to a knee.
It’s funny, but even though my body does at times remind me that I am not 25 anymore, and haven’t been for, well, 25 years, I have quite a few moments in life that I just forget how old I am. I often wonder if I did not know my birth year, and if someone hadn’t invented mirrors, how old would I really be? The mind is such a powerful thing. And my mind still thinks it’s in its’ 30’s.
When I go clothes shopping, I automatically go to the section of clothes that are meant for someone 20 years younger. It’s like I am stuck in that strange middle-world: wanting to be young, but needing to grow up, and truly wondering how far I can push the envelope. You know - that fine line of dressing youthful versus looking like a grandmother that raided her teenaged granddaughter’s closet.
Luckily I don’t over-analyze the getting old thing, and I do still feel healthy. But because my mind doesn’t dwell on my “true age”, I do surprise sometimes myself when I look in the mirror. I’ve decided that the mirror will be my friend no matter what, even if the reflection isn’t exactly what I had assumed I would see. The torture times are when I use the magnifying mirrors. They were invented to show women over 40 all their flaws. The hair where there wasn’t any, the freckles that have changed to age spots and the tiny wrinkles that aren’t so tiny anymore. I normally would refuse to use the dang thing, except I need to be able to see to put my makeup on.
I am not ready to give up my adventuresome soul, and at times I do need to sit and have a chat with my body. Here is an example of my dialogues:
“Look, I know you are 51. I know you have a few issues with me doing things that may cause a pain or two. I know you really don’t want me to wear anything sleeveless. I understand that after I work out or dance the muscles are going to hurt. Let’s just start saying that this isn’t because we are getting old. Let’s just say it’s because we are living, and using and enjoying this body, and pushing it to limits that will remind us we are alive, and we can still climb and dance and wear clothes that don’t look like our grandmothers.
Life is good at any age. We just have to remind our body that the mind really is in control. And when your mind is only 30, there sure is a whole lot of living left to do – and there is no telling what it may wear, say or do. Ben-Gay anyone?
This was from my (older) husband as we were hiking in the woods a few days ago, and I was climbing up a fairly rocky hill. I was holding on tightly to the dog’s leash, praying he’d pull me up the steep incline. Instead he kept waiting for me to lead the way – it’s the first time he’s ever actually “heeled” in his life - and for once I didn’t want him to. We got up to the top of the hill safely with no injuries except to my ego, and then and there I wondered what happened to my sense of adventure. I am never afraid of getting hurt. I’ve always loved climbing steep hills and rocks, jumping across streams and running through leaves. True, I’ve spent my share of times with an ice pack or ace bandage, but I never feared getting hurt. It wasn’t until my husband reminded me of my old age that I even considered I could sprain an ankle, hurt my hip or do something to a knee.
It’s funny, but even though my body does at times remind me that I am not 25 anymore, and haven’t been for, well, 25 years, I have quite a few moments in life that I just forget how old I am. I often wonder if I did not know my birth year, and if someone hadn’t invented mirrors, how old would I really be? The mind is such a powerful thing. And my mind still thinks it’s in its’ 30’s.
When I go clothes shopping, I automatically go to the section of clothes that are meant for someone 20 years younger. It’s like I am stuck in that strange middle-world: wanting to be young, but needing to grow up, and truly wondering how far I can push the envelope. You know - that fine line of dressing youthful versus looking like a grandmother that raided her teenaged granddaughter’s closet.
Luckily I don’t over-analyze the getting old thing, and I do still feel healthy. But because my mind doesn’t dwell on my “true age”, I do surprise sometimes myself when I look in the mirror. I’ve decided that the mirror will be my friend no matter what, even if the reflection isn’t exactly what I had assumed I would see. The torture times are when I use the magnifying mirrors. They were invented to show women over 40 all their flaws. The hair where there wasn’t any, the freckles that have changed to age spots and the tiny wrinkles that aren’t so tiny anymore. I normally would refuse to use the dang thing, except I need to be able to see to put my makeup on.
I am not ready to give up my adventuresome soul, and at times I do need to sit and have a chat with my body. Here is an example of my dialogues:
“Look, I know you are 51. I know you have a few issues with me doing things that may cause a pain or two. I know you really don’t want me to wear anything sleeveless. I understand that after I work out or dance the muscles are going to hurt. Let’s just start saying that this isn’t because we are getting old. Let’s just say it’s because we are living, and using and enjoying this body, and pushing it to limits that will remind us we are alive, and we can still climb and dance and wear clothes that don’t look like our grandmothers.
Life is good at any age. We just have to remind our body that the mind really is in control. And when your mind is only 30, there sure is a whole lot of living left to do – and there is no telling what it may wear, say or do. Ben-Gay anyone?
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