Cooking, Dairy Free, Food, Vegetarian, Whole Food Plant Based Lifestyle

Revival of the Fittest

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So, like I said, I got my books and I’ve dug into them. However, just reading them isn’t going to get me where I want to be, now is it? I’ve got to put my fanny in gear and get with the program.

And, yesterday, that’s exactly what I did.

Sunday night, I looked through the recipe book, planned my menus for the next week (Actually, since many of the recipes make four servings and freeze well, the meals will last for more than just the one week.) and made my grocery list. Then yesterday, I grabbed my grocery bags and headed out to Aldi and Kroger. Many of the items I bought were larder stocking kinds of things like nutritional yeast, chia seeds, dried beans, canned diced tomatoes, and spices. I tell you that because I had to say it to myownself at check-out so that I wouldn’t hyperventilate at the totals. Nearly gave myself a stroke, I did! Now, normally, I look in my refrigerator and cabinets to see what’s there and I concoct something edible with the ingredients (the ketchup pizza being a notable exception to the edible thing). However, as I fully transition into this Whole Foods, Plant Based lifestyle, I wanted to make some proven recipes so that I can learn to cook without butter, oil, cream or even cheese. It’s not like I used cream or cheese all that frequently to begin with; but, I have no idea how to make sauces creamy without them. Using the recipes in the Forks Over Knives books, I’ll learn how to do that.

Now, let’s take just a minute because I can hear some of you rolling your eyes at me. I’ve gone off the deep end – no animal protein. What?! Have I lost my mind?! And I used to be such a nice girl! Well, the nice girl thing may be a bit of a stretch; but, otherwise, I can totally get where you’re coming from. I used to dig into a rack of ribs like someone was going to steal it. I enjoyed my steaks so rare that some of them may have moved. Hot, buttered bread, okay, hot, buttered anything was a favorite. Although allergic to dairy, I love ice cream enough to make the bathroom my home for hours after eating it. I was a carnivore who loved all things dairy. Now, what am I? Some kind of bean freak?!

Maybe not yet, but I can totally see myself getting there. Particularly since my cookbooks have arrived and I’m going to learn how to cook with new ingredients and how to use familiar ingredients in a whole new way. And, don’t even think I’m going to be eating grass and twigs.  My refrigerator and freezer are soon to be stocked with:

  1. Sweet Potato Pie Oatmeal
  2. Portobello Florentine
  3. Breakfast Fruit Crisp with mixed berries
  4. Red Lentil Dal
  5. Creamy Polenta with Wild Mushrooms
  6. Baked Ziti
  7. Polenta Pizza with pesto, caramelized onions and potatoes
  8. Jamaican Black Beans
  9. Pineapple Chutney
  10. Whole Grain Penne Primavera
  11. Stir Fried Bok Choy and rice in garlic sauce
  12. Black Bean Burgers
  13. Black-Eyed Pea Burgers
  14. Curried Butternut Squash and Apple Soup

Nope. No grass and twigs here, friends. It’s gonna be good eating at the Doty Hjem! And every single recipe is designed to give my body varied and complete nutrients for better health, and to give my taste buds a big, ole tent revival with every single bite!

Hallelujah!

Accountability, Thought Patterns

Didn’t We Have This Conversation Already?

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Do you have that friend that starts talking about their current problems and, while you love the person dearly, you just want to stab your eardrums out so that you don’t have to hear about it….again?! After all, it’s the same thing over and over – my boyfriend’s a jerk, I’m broke, my nail polish keeps chipping, I hate my hair, etc., etc. Ugh! You love ’em, but you’re just plain tired of hearing the same old drama.

I don’t have many friends like that and I suspect it may be because I AM That Friend.

When I feel like I’m being That Friend, I often just stop talking. I get tired of hearing my same old drama myownself; so, I just quit saying anything. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve had a few friends actually say something to me about my silence – you’re not writing, you don’t call, you don’t text…wassup?

It’s wonderful to have Those Friends! (Some of you are recognizing yourselves right this very minute, aren’t ya?)

The truth is that I’ve been stuck. I haven’t found the motivation to keep me eating healthfully and I certainly haven’t found the motivation to use that gym membership. I’ve been eating WAAAAAY too much sugar, too much processed food, too much white flour, too much oil, too little fruit, too few green leafies, and too few non-starchy veggies. I haven’t been back to the gym since the last time we talked. This is not the way to get back to feeling healthy and strong. I’ve needed a plan and a whole lotta help coming up with a viable one since the ones I was coming up with were lasting about as long as a snowball in Hell.

So. I ordered some books from Abebooks.com (my most favoritest online book source). They’ve arrived. I’ve finished one and am working through the second. They are the Forks Over Knives books. One is a how-to companion; one is a solid, four-week plan to make permanent lifestyle changes; and, one is a cookbook. All of them are based on the Whole Food, Plant Based lifestyle that has been shown time and again to help adherents lead much healthier lives. Rather than treating the symptoms of a host of illnesses with prescriptions, the practitioners of the WFPB lifestyle are finding that their illnesses are gone. By giving their bodies the tools that they need to repair the damage done by years of eating the Standard American Diet, those people are finding that their vascular issues, diabetes, even some cancers are either cured or significantly improved.

With all of the cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure and heart disease in my family, I want to get ahead of the game.  As I told you, I want to be Adventure Gram! I want to take my future grandchildren hiking, climbing, kayaking, sightseeing, all kinds of fun things and I can’t do that if my body won’t let me. I want that, yet I’ve been struggling with motivating myself to get there.

Maybe I should have shared that struggle with you rather than retreating into myself like I do. Maybe it would have helped one of you and maybe it would have helped me to share it. I didn’t, though, because I felt like I was being That Friend. By keeping the struggle in, I felt more isolated, which didn’t help anything. I’m betting some of you have done the same thing with similar results.

Well, now, I’ve reached out for help from experts who know scads more than I do. I’m using their knowledge and experience to develop a plan for adopting a healthier lifestyle. I’ll share that will you – even on those days when I’m That Friend.

 

Thought Patterns

Becoming Real

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I saw this quote for the first time this week and it so accurately describes my feelings today that I share someone else’s words rather than my own. It hasn’t been love that removed all my hair or made my eyes drop out, but you get the idea.

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’

‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Habits, Thought Patterns

The Quagmire of the Subjunctive Mood

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When my niece was about three years old, she suddenly experienced horrific separation anxiety from my sister. The toddler would cry inconsolably saying that she “didn’t want a stepmother.” Since my sister was healthy and not thinking of divorce at that time, she was puzzled at this sudden, very real, very dramatic fear of her daughter’s. Then, one day, I was watching Cinderella with Shelby and….

Bingo!

Think about it for a minute: Cinderella’s mother dies, then, years later, her father dies. Bambi’s mother dies. Snow White’s mother dies. Aurora has parents, but they send her away for her own safety. Neither Ariel nor Belle’s mothers are ever even mentioned. Mufasa gets trampled. Yep, the happiest place on Earth makes movies where parenthood is a seriously dangerous occupation. Being a Disney parent is like being a Cartwright girlfriend on Bonanza – it’s the kiss of death, honey. The writers have already shot you or given you TB before you even show up in Virginia City. You may as well go ahead and get Hop Sing to brew you up a big, ole bowl of hemlock. You know you ain’t gonna be around for next week’s episode.

I saw the new live-action Cinderella this weekend and while I liked the movie a great deal, it reminded me of the little Shelby’s fear of what might have been. This reminded me of an interview with Phuc Tran that I heard on NPR this week. (It’s very thought provoking. If you haven’t heard it, I suggest that you do so. If you’re a grammar nerd, my suggestion is a strong one.) Tran talks about how the subjunctive mood in English allows us to consider and fret over all sorts of things that might or might not be. His parents’ Vietnamese language doesn’t have a subjunctive mood; so, his parents, aunts and uncles think only of what is or what isn’t. They don’t create worry about possibilities since their language doesn’t have the capacity for it. I had never thought about that – about language allowing us to create our own worries. Of course, it also allows for creative thinking and great progress when we imagine what might be; but, I think that it is the source of as much anxiety as creation – at least for me, it is.

quicksandWhat if I can’t get this weight back off? What if I can’t change my habits to include exercise? What if I never find what I’m meant to do? What if? What if? What if?

That kind of thinking has me burning up the gears on the hamster wheel in my head; but, it’s getting me nowhere. The 12-Step Programs all say to take it one day at a time. Stop borrowing trouble. But, how do I do that when I’m setting goals? Don’t I have to consider and map out the possible hurdles between me and the goal? Of course, I do. Developing a strategy to achieve my goals is the only smart thing to do. However, the problem comes in when I focus too long or too intently on the hurdles. That focus is likely to end with my mental feet getting stuck in the quicksand of the what ifs. Then I sink.

There must be a way to avoid getting stuck. Zig Ziglar says you can and successful people do it all of the time. They recognize and plan for obstacles without getting caught in the consideration of them. How do they do that?! I don’t know. I’m still working on getting the sand out of my shoes.

Accountability, Exercise

Watch That Second Step!

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Lao Tzu said, “The journey of a thousand miles beings with one step.” Her Dotyness says, “You only need AAA if you take a second one.” (Feel free to embroider that on a throw pillow.)

At the urging of my hairdresser Marla, I went for a tour of a local gym. At her insistence, I joined it. That was two weeks ago and I still haven’t left one drop of sweat in the building.  I took the first step; but, my AAA card is still dusty.

The truth is that I hate getting sweaty – I don’t mind being sweaty, I just hate getting sweaty. If I could workout and not sweat, I’d be far more likely to do it – well, at least until I had a heatstroke. I hate feeling hot, but not hot enough. I hate that itchy, sticky feeling. Once I’m sweaty, it’s no different from being wet any other way; so, I’m fine. In fact, I actually like the idea that my body is throwing off waste and cleaning itself. So, why do I avoid it so much? I really don’t know.

I’ve been on countless diets over the course of my life and I’ve said several times that I truly don’t know what made The Big Reduction different from all other previous attempts. I’ve said that and it’s the gospel truth. For if I knew what made that effort so different, I’d be able to tap into it now and get these side effect pounds off.

I mean, I know what to do: eat more fruits and vegetables, eat less starch, drink plenty of water, get plenty of rest and get some exercise every day. Of course, all of those items have their own little sublists to make them easier; but, as they stand, they’re hardly rocket science, right? Still, here I sit in my sweat pants because my other pants don’t fit. What I have to tap into again is the right motivation.

My motivation for The Big Reduction was my grandchildren. I don’t have any yet (and am in no particular hurry, son of mine); but, I would like to be around to meet them someday. With my work-stressed life fueled by the hideous Standard American Diet, my life Before truly was SAD. As it stands now, I’m still work stressed and while I am no longer fueled by SAD, I’m a long way from being healthy. I’m a long way from being that grandmother who plays tag with her grandchildren. And that’s the grandmother I want to be.

I want to be the one who goes rock climbing with them, bakes cookies with them, goes hiking, camping (well, maybe not camping – too many bugs), and canoeing with them. I want to be Adventure Gram!

So. How do I hold that vision in place to be a constant motivator? How does Adventure Gram begin to push my big, ole hams out the door to the gym? How does she curb compulsive eating and bingeing?

I don’t know. I’m still standing on that first step.

 

Family

Snowbound

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During the worst part of my recent illness, my father came to stay with me a few days. As it happened, we had a good deal of snow and ice during that time and the poor man couldn’t have left if he had wanted to! We were snowbound.

And it was wonderful.

The amount of precipitation we had in Middle Tennessee that caused a panic and empty bread shelves at the Food Lion wouldn’t have even caused a school delay when my son and I lived in Latrobe, PA; but, they have the proper removal equipment there and we just don’t have it here. We don’t get that kind of precipitation often enough to make it economically feasible to have snow plows all over town. And, frankly, a snow plow doesn’t do much good with ice anyway; so, Dad and I were stuck in the house where we talked, rested and read in front of a fire we kept going for almost the whole week.

As I’ve told you, I adore my father. There are a great many things this imperfect man and I disagree about, but that just makes for interesting conversation. Mother nearly died giving birth to my sister and she was very, very ill after having me, as well. So, with both of us, Dad was the one who took care of us early on – and he still does it. I remember him running across the yard and swooping me up out of the fire ant bed I had climbed into, and him carrying me into the hospital when I had pneumonia as a toddler. More recently he insisted on coming to take care of me a few years ago when I had my tonsils removed and couldn’t swallow even the pain meds. (Incidentally, I certainly hope the stories are true and that it hurts worse as an adult than it does as a child. That was worse than labor!) Those are just three of the countless times Dad has been there to help me. My father is not a man who often expresses love verbally; however, he never lets me forget that he loves me and that he worries about me. Even with his expansive vocabulary, he is a man of deed more than a man of word. Words lie. Deeds don’t.

A friend at work lost her father last week in a house fire. We have all grieved for this sweet woman in her loss; but, I have to admit that part of my grief is not for her. It’s for myself. I know that the day will come when Dad won’t be there when I’m unwell. I won’t be able to call to “check his pulse.” He won’t read us ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. He won’t be peppering conversations with stories of his years in the forest and with Southern idioms like “useless as hip pockets on a hog.” Someday he won’t be here and I will be devastated at the loss of my father and, again, at the loss of my friend. But, until that awful day comes, I will treasure every chance I get to be with him and, after, I will treasure the memories of being snowbound.

 

Accountability, Body Changes, Cravings, Emotional Eating

Vodka on My Breath

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I haven’t written in awhile. There have been several reasons; but, the chief reason was that I have been unwell and, in my illness, I felt like a fraud. The Positive Thinking Blog Goddess was having trouble thinking of reasons why brushing her teeth on her off days was necessary. Hardly positive thinking in anyone’s book, I’d say. To me, writing about making good food choices, good health choices or positive choices of any kind would have been tantamount to standing up as a sponsor at an AA meeting with vodka on my breath.

How could I talk about it with any conviction if I knew that I was failing at it in my everyday life? How could I talk about making healthful dietary choices when the primary components of my own diet were popcorn and Hershey’s with almonds?

Since November, when I got the Depo-Provera shot, I have been trapped in a binge-eating nightmare. All of the old, unhealthy language has reemerged to strengthen those old, unhealthy habits. I have felt completely out of control and powerless to do anything about it. My body has been screaming for sugar and salt – mostly sugar. My first thought upon opening my eyes has been, “What can I eat?” Literally, that has been my very first thought. I dream about food. I make good choices at the grocery store, then eat candy out of the vending machines at work or I make a stop at the drugstore for a box of Russell Stover caramels. And the internal litany that accompanies every sugary bite that I take is, “Look at you! You can’t control yourself. Sure, you were thin for awhile, but you’re fat again now, aren’t you? Go ahead. Eat another one.”

Despair-300x199That is the kind of language that kept me trapped in an obese body for decades. No. It’s not the kind of language that kept me trapped. It is the language that kept me trapped.

I have felt myself spiraling down and have been unable to stop it. So, now, even my stretchy pants are tight and my blue jeans aren’t even in the realm of possibility. While certainly nowhere near my heaviest, I am fatter than I have been in three years and I am angry and humiliated about it.

I’ve talked to several people about the depo shot and have heard the same thing over and over – women who took it experienced significant weight gain. I was so focused on the result I wanted from the Essure procedure that I didn’t fully consider the consequences of the preparation stage. I should have done more research. I expected that my doctor would not follow a protocol that would not be the best for me as an individual – this is a doctor I see, at best, once a year. I still think that she’s a good doctor and I will continue to see her; however, I will never again blindly follow a procedural protocol without educating myself. Please understand that I’m not blaming her. I am responsible for my health choices and if I choose to blindly and completely hand over full control of my body to another human being, I am accountable for the results – even if it’s significant weight gain.

I’m taking steps to regain control of my life and my cravings; but, I’m a long way from being in control. So, what you’re likely to see here over the next weeks and months is what my friend Rebecca wanted me to write about in the first place – my very real and sometimes ugly struggle to get my body, mind and spirit back to a healthy place. It’s not always going to be pretty and some days, I’ll write with vodka (or chocolate) on my breath.

Cravings, Thought Patterns

Health Information Spin-Doctors

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I saw an article last week about adrenal fatigue and was intrigued. I read it and was even more intrigued since it seemed to explain why I’m so exhausted all the time these days.

Then I did some more research.

Turns out that adrenal fatigue isn’t a medically defined condition. Now, as you know, I do not believe that doctors are either gods or the end all and be all of everything; however, I think that they’ve spent an awful lot of time studying the human body and can be good resources. I also believe that this Information Age is just as easily the Disinformation Age and anyone with an idea or product to sell can create a condition for their idea or product to cure. The symptoms of adrenal fatigue are really just the symptoms of exhaustion…..adrenal fatigue just sounds so much better. Right?

Hospitalization for exhaustion or bed rest for fatigue sounds awfully Lindsay Lohan, n’est pas? It sounds like you’ve been out partying too much, you’re secretly in rehab, you’re having a nervous breakdown or you’re just a wimp. I mean, the Mormons walked across the country pushing wheelbarrows, for crying out loud. What do any of us have to be exhausted about?

Well, actually, we have a lot.

I don’t think that anyone can deny that this is a very stressful time to be an adult in the United States. The news tells us that the country has recovered; but, I talk to an awful lot of unemployed or underemployed people who have not seen that recovery. Paychecks don’t go as far as they used to. For instance, I now make the same amount of money that I made 20 years ago – not the same amount adjusted for inflation, the actual same amount. However, the cost of living certainly isn’t what it was 20 years ago. That causes a tremendous amount of stress for me. That kind of stress will just wear a body out; but,  it still sounds kind of wimpy to say that I’m suffering from exhaustion, doesn’t it? Makes me sound like some silly Victorian female suffering a fit of the vapors on my reclining couch. But, if I’m suffering from adrenal fatigue, well, that’s a whole different kettle of fish, isn’t it? It’s not that I can’t handle the stress, it’s that my adrenal glands are letting me down. Damn the luck! Wimpy glands.

Okaaaaaaay.

Here’s what I found most amusing about the condition – its prescribed treatment: get plenty of sleep, drink plenty of water, exercise regularly, and eat a balanced diet including lots of fruits and vegetables. That’s really the prescription for everything, I think: obesity, arthritis, high blood pressure, and, now of course, adrenal fatigue.

It’s hardly earth-shattering. It’s hardly revolutionary. It’s what our grandparents knew and what we also know, if we’re honest with ourselves. It’s just that simple.

And it’s just that hard.

In our stressful, fast-paced world, we want an immediate solution. We want a pill. We want someone else to do the work for us. We want an overnight miracle. But, it just doesn’t work that way. We have to prepare our meals. We have to make healthier choices. We have to do the work and take care of ourselves.

And I, for one, have got to get started right this very minute.

 

 

Body Changes, Emotional Eating

Appropriate Accomodations

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With all of the see-sawing I’ve seen in my weight over the past few months, my clothes have gone from loose to snug to don’t-even-try-fitting-that-in-here back to just tight now back to you-must-be-delusional. It’s frustrating and irritating.

Just before I took that ridiculous shot which started the two month PMS cravings, I had gotten rid of my Fat Jeans. I’m seriously regretting that decision now and have considered several times going to get some larger pants. I still have some stretchy pants that I can wear, but my jeans are out of the question. And I really like wearing my jeans – particularly since my favorite footwear (my cowboy boots) look ridiculous with yoga pants. Alas, I’m in yoga pants right now. So, really, it’s because of my cowboy boots that I’ve considered buying another pair of Fat Jeans.

Uh huh.

You may notice that I’ve said “considered,” not “bought.” You see, I know that lie. “I’ll just buy these so that I can wear them for a little while until I get back into my regular jeans.”

Lie.

You know as well as I do what would happen. I’d get all kinds of comfy in those Fat Jeans and wear those suckers out. Who knows? I might even eat my way out of them into the next size up. I’ve done it before and I’m not stupid enough to say that I wouldn’t do it again. For me, there is a slippery slope there. Just like Marie Osmond said in a NutriSystem ad a few years ago – your jeans get tight and you get a little muffin top going on. You wear a sweater to cover the muffin top. Eventually, you buy bigger pants to get rid of it; but, you just grow another one that you cover again with larger, loose-fitting shirts. The cycle spirals up and up until you look in the mirror one day and wonder who that fat woman is staring back at you.

Well, if I don’t buy larger clothes, I hope to short-circuit that process. I cannot get comfy in larger jeans if I don’t buy them. I will wear what I have and be sick of it until I can fit back into my jeans again. I was closing in on it before last week’s ginormous binge. Looking back through my posts, I’m amazed that less than ten days ago I felt like things were getting better only to crash again. Last week lasted about 46 days, I’m pretty sure.

Only it didn’t. It lasted the normal seven and I am still alive and have the will to get back on track. I have a closet full of appropriate clothes that have fit me before and they’ll fit me again. No need to move into larger posterior accommodations. The accommodations I have are just fine and I’ll be comfortably back in them in less than a month.

Thoughts about everything and nothing in an effort to be a better person than I was yesterday.