Today a man I admire, respect and care for like a member of my family said something to me that took me by surprise. He came up to me and said "I'm mad at you." I of course inquired as to why. He informed me that he was concerned about me eating all "this weird stuff" and that I looked fine before but now I'm too skinny.
He had in his hands a bag of bagels from a chain bakery. I had in my hands a kale salad with chicken (and mind you, not just chicken, but super yummy chicken that tasted like the ginger and cinnamon I'd cooked it in. Though sadly, no cherry flavor from the cherries...more cherries next time!) covered with a homemade balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
Thankfully the first person to pipe up to defend my "weird" food was another coworker who happened to be at my desk. She has yet to jump on the Paleo bandwagon, and frankly I think is probably a bit skeptical and would rather have a bagel than a kale and chicken salad (can't say I would blame her, I totally miss everything bagels). But know what came out of her mouth? It went a little something like this: "Do you know how much bacon she eats? Don't worry, she's NOT starving herself. She's just trying to stay healthy!"
Amen.
I am trying to stay healthy.
I explained to him what a normal food day looks like for me, and that the weight loss was not actually a goal; the end to me feeling like a stomped on pile of poo was the only reason I changed anything. He was somewhat satisfied, but is still of the opinion I'm too skinny. Hell, they say you can't please everyone, and it appears that's true.
A couple hours later, I was in the deep thought room, AKA bathroom and my brain said "Hey now! What's more weird, the salad that you made yourself from a handful of healthy mostly organic ingredients, or the bag full of bagels made from genetically modified grains, fillers, binders, sugars, fake fats and goodness knows what else?" Sadly, I'd have to say that the bagels are what's normal and my salad is indeed weird. It's not normal these days to make your own food. We pay other people to do it. And don't get me wrong, that's all fine and dandy in its own way for the economy, but it's not fine and dandy for our health.
We hand our health over to everyone else. Other people cook for us, we tell someone in a white coat where it hurts and they give us a piece of paper that the pharmacist magically turns into a bottle of pills. We listen to the doctors on TV telling us we need to eat fish one day, then fish is bad because of mercury so eat flax instead. Whole grains are good, and animal fats are bad. We don't stop to look at our lives, our bodies, and think about the reason we need to see the white coats in the first place.
This is what is normal.
But that doesn't mean it's right, and it doesn't mean it's ok. We're sick and fat and tired and cranky. So are our children.
We sleep too little and complain too much about it the next day. We avoid the sun like it's a serial killer on a mission, and then stuff our stomachs full of Vitamin D so our bones don't snap when we stand up. We watch TV instead of talking to our families and friends or going for a walk. We toss back the caffeine like it's manna from Heaven just to get ourselves through another day.
That's all normal. Totally flippin normal.
So, screw normal. I'll continue to eat "weird things" and get healthier, thankyouverymuch.
Oh, and P.S., never tell a woman she's anything other than too beautiful. No matter what you mean by it, it will not turn out well for you. [Mumbles to self...Too skinny my ass! No really, I've got a booty that I still hear about
when I'm walking and minding my own business. So there's no way I'm too
skinny. But I would like to stop hearing about my booty. It's awesome, I already know that ;)]
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
Random Stuffs
It's been a minute since I posted. I know someone other than my mom is reading this (and that's cool with me), so sorry to Mom and the other person(s) reading this that it's been a bit. Lots of stuff to talk about! Really lame boring things, so let us get to it!
I can't remember if I posted about this last time, and I'm too lazy to go check. So sorry if this is repeating myself. FYI, I really hate repeating myself so know that I'd never do it on purpose. Only out of laziness and/or forgetfulness. I tell long stories even if they're not long, so I'm going to make this as short as I can. I was on my walk one day and there's this dude jumping around on a tractor tire and whatnot. He convinces me to come work out with him, as he's a personal trainer guy. Word. So I do. Ouchies ensue. For days. I do it again because my tailbone did not slip at all the following week. That is super awesome! I come back to do it again. No dude. Dude gone. Poof! There are many possible explanations for this, however, I favor the following: He had little faith in little me. It was hard. But I worked really hard, and I can almost say I enjoyed it. If I said I liked it, that would be a lie, but not a big fat one. Why would I want someone to not have faith in me. Ummm, so I can prove them wrong of course! Geez. Why else? So, WATCH ME. I've been busting ass at home. I didn't work this hard before because frankly I think my doctor and physical therapist would have heart attacks. I don't want to be responsible for that! They've always told me "take it easy and don't push yourself too far, you'll only make things worse." So that's what I've done. Until now; so thank you magically appearing/disappearing guy for showing me that I can push myself and my tailbone will not pop out of my side via my liver or anything of that sort. Now I just need heavier weights.
But that has to wait. Because I'm flippin moving. In like 2 weeks. I hate moving. I feel like I live in a disaster area right now because everything is in boxes. Everything I don't use every single day anyway. Sigh. So last thing I want to do is move heavier weights. And after I move, I get to move again. Oh, and before I move, I am moving my bestie back to a place I'd already moved her. Lovely! Did I mention I hate moving? E freakin F.
I was on my walk in the park this evening and had a thought. When the flip did you bicycle people stop saying "on your left!" and why? Seriously. Like that's for real common sense right there. I know I'm a woman, and therefore have special super powers, but we don't actually have eyes in the backs of our heads you guys. I honestly don't know you're coming until you're already going (unless you have a loud bike. I don't know why some bikes are loud and some aren't, but you should from now on assume your bike is not loud). Now, what if a chipmunk jumped out of the bushes and I jumped to the left so as to not injure or frighten the little guy? Then what huh? That's right, ouchies all around for the humans. And it would be your fault. All yours. And I would wish you a constant slow tire leak that you could never fix even if you got a new tire because that's what you deserve for thinking I'd hurt a chipmunk. Jerk.
Speaking of bikes, we've been talking about the Zombie Apocalypse at work a lot over the last few weeks (nice segue huh?). My first stop? Bike shop. For a tricycle. For real. They make them for grown-ups. I can't ride a bike. Both because I never actually learned (shut up!) and because of my injury. I tried to learn a few years ago and if ever I'm interested in feeling the kind of pain I felt when I thought I wasn't going to be able to walk anymore, I'll give that another go. But really, that would be stupid. I'm not stupid, so I'm going to loot a tricycle instead. You laugh now, but I bet you haven't even thought that far ahead now have you? You think your car is going to get you far after the gas runs out all over town? You think the gas stations that aren't on fire will be open? Hells to the no! You need a bike (or tricycle...) to get from A to B. You're welcome. Next stop, a place that I can find a machine gun to mount on my tricycle handlebars. It will serve a dual purpose. Kill lots of zombies and simultaneously propel me away from them and out of danger, as the kick from a machine gun would for sure send me and my trike in the opposite direction. What could go wrong? I see no flaw in this plan. I swear I'm just brilliant sometimes.
I seem to be retaining/absorbing more iron. This is rad. I now take iron 3 days a week. You have no idea how happy I am to see pink nailbeds. It's the little things no?
M&M's make my ears pluggy. That's probably not a word, but you know what I'm talking about. Pluggy and itchy. And if I eat a whole big bag (the kind you buy in the candy isle, not the checkout stand) then I get so ear pluggy that I spend an entire Saturday sounding like a female impersonator from the drainage (ha ha... that's gross and you read it anyway). No joke. Well yeah, it's funny, but I'm being serious. I sounded like a man trying to sound like little ol' me. No, it's not the dairy. I can do dairy all day every day for weeks and only get a little mocos (the google machine will explain if you tell it to talk gross to you in Spanish), so it's not that. No. It's all the other shite in M&M's thankyouverymuch. I don't know why I need to OD on junk food in order to prove to myself it is in fact junk; but there it is.
I have become fond of the semicolon. It makes run on sentences feel less runn-y on-y. Sorry to all my English teachers ever for that sentence.
And lastly for the fun stuff, there are no attractive men in this town. At least not men that I am attracted to. Colorado is very white bread, and I've never been terribly attracted to my own race. This really has not much at all to do with anything, but I'm sharing ok? I told you from the outset, lame and boring.
OK.
The following stuff has nothing to do with my health or fitness (or lack of dating prospects), except perhaps in a round about way. It's super heavy to me and I need to get it out.
I think I've mentioned before that I live in the Mile High City. One reason I haven't posted recently is because I've been sad (sad being not good for your health). Sad and angry over the horrible things people are capable of. I don't know what it is about this town or this state, maybe the low oxygen levels or something, but I think we have more than our fair share of nut jobs. Transplants (like our latest "alleged" mass murderer) and natives (Columbine) alike pull this shit. I don't understand it, and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart even more when the stories come out about the women protecting their children, and the men that decided to die so that others could live. Because THAT is what we should be. Those people are who we should strive to emulate. The ones willing to die to give other people a chance to survive the misplaced anger of some deranged idiot who blames everyone but himself for his problems. Now our state seems to have exported a white supremacist so full of hate that he's willing to kill people in their place of worship, and he may have had a friend who was late to the party. I do not understand. A Mosque was burned to the ground the next day in Missouri.
Something is very wrong in our country.
Under our skin, we're all the same bones and muscles and organs. If the aliens came down today they wouldn't know the difference between a Jew, Muslim, Christian, or Atheist. They would not comprehend the difference between Buddhist and Taoist philosophies. We'd all look and sound the same to them. Because we are. I'm so sick of us "othering" people we don't even fucking know (sorry Mom but sometimes you've got to drop the f bomb). We are far more alike than we are different. We are all descended from the same ancestors. We all want the same things. Hate is not useful. This has been an overwhelming month in our community. All because of anger and hate. Senseless and tragic.
I can't remember if I posted about this last time, and I'm too lazy to go check. So sorry if this is repeating myself. FYI, I really hate repeating myself so know that I'd never do it on purpose. Only out of laziness and/or forgetfulness. I tell long stories even if they're not long, so I'm going to make this as short as I can. I was on my walk one day and there's this dude jumping around on a tractor tire and whatnot. He convinces me to come work out with him, as he's a personal trainer guy. Word. So I do. Ouchies ensue. For days. I do it again because my tailbone did not slip at all the following week. That is super awesome! I come back to do it again. No dude. Dude gone. Poof! There are many possible explanations for this, however, I favor the following: He had little faith in little me. It was hard. But I worked really hard, and I can almost say I enjoyed it. If I said I liked it, that would be a lie, but not a big fat one. Why would I want someone to not have faith in me. Ummm, so I can prove them wrong of course! Geez. Why else? So, WATCH ME. I've been busting ass at home. I didn't work this hard before because frankly I think my doctor and physical therapist would have heart attacks. I don't want to be responsible for that! They've always told me "take it easy and don't push yourself too far, you'll only make things worse." So that's what I've done. Until now; so thank you magically appearing/disappearing guy for showing me that I can push myself and my tailbone will not pop out of my side via my liver or anything of that sort. Now I just need heavier weights.
But that has to wait. Because I'm flippin moving. In like 2 weeks. I hate moving. I feel like I live in a disaster area right now because everything is in boxes. Everything I don't use every single day anyway. Sigh. So last thing I want to do is move heavier weights. And after I move, I get to move again. Oh, and before I move, I am moving my bestie back to a place I'd already moved her. Lovely! Did I mention I hate moving? E freakin F.
I was on my walk in the park this evening and had a thought. When the flip did you bicycle people stop saying "on your left!" and why? Seriously. Like that's for real common sense right there. I know I'm a woman, and therefore have special super powers, but we don't actually have eyes in the backs of our heads you guys. I honestly don't know you're coming until you're already going (unless you have a loud bike. I don't know why some bikes are loud and some aren't, but you should from now on assume your bike is not loud). Now, what if a chipmunk jumped out of the bushes and I jumped to the left so as to not injure or frighten the little guy? Then what huh? That's right, ouchies all around for the humans. And it would be your fault. All yours. And I would wish you a constant slow tire leak that you could never fix even if you got a new tire because that's what you deserve for thinking I'd hurt a chipmunk. Jerk.
Speaking of bikes, we've been talking about the Zombie Apocalypse at work a lot over the last few weeks (nice segue huh?). My first stop? Bike shop. For a tricycle. For real. They make them for grown-ups. I can't ride a bike. Both because I never actually learned (shut up!) and because of my injury. I tried to learn a few years ago and if ever I'm interested in feeling the kind of pain I felt when I thought I wasn't going to be able to walk anymore, I'll give that another go. But really, that would be stupid. I'm not stupid, so I'm going to loot a tricycle instead. You laugh now, but I bet you haven't even thought that far ahead now have you? You think your car is going to get you far after the gas runs out all over town? You think the gas stations that aren't on fire will be open? Hells to the no! You need a bike (or tricycle...) to get from A to B. You're welcome. Next stop, a place that I can find a machine gun to mount on my tricycle handlebars. It will serve a dual purpose. Kill lots of zombies and simultaneously propel me away from them and out of danger, as the kick from a machine gun would for sure send me and my trike in the opposite direction. What could go wrong? I see no flaw in this plan. I swear I'm just brilliant sometimes.
I seem to be retaining/absorbing more iron. This is rad. I now take iron 3 days a week. You have no idea how happy I am to see pink nailbeds. It's the little things no?
M&M's make my ears pluggy. That's probably not a word, but you know what I'm talking about. Pluggy and itchy. And if I eat a whole big bag (the kind you buy in the candy isle, not the checkout stand) then I get so ear pluggy that I spend an entire Saturday sounding like a female impersonator from the drainage (ha ha... that's gross and you read it anyway). No joke. Well yeah, it's funny, but I'm being serious. I sounded like a man trying to sound like little ol' me. No, it's not the dairy. I can do dairy all day every day for weeks and only get a little mocos (the google machine will explain if you tell it to talk gross to you in Spanish), so it's not that. No. It's all the other shite in M&M's thankyouverymuch. I don't know why I need to OD on junk food in order to prove to myself it is in fact junk; but there it is.
I have become fond of the semicolon. It makes run on sentences feel less runn-y on-y. Sorry to all my English teachers ever for that sentence.
And lastly for the fun stuff, there are no attractive men in this town. At least not men that I am attracted to. Colorado is very white bread, and I've never been terribly attracted to my own race. This really has not much at all to do with anything, but I'm sharing ok? I told you from the outset, lame and boring.
OK.
The following stuff has nothing to do with my health or fitness (or lack of dating prospects), except perhaps in a round about way. It's super heavy to me and I need to get it out.
I think I've mentioned before that I live in the Mile High City. One reason I haven't posted recently is because I've been sad (sad being not good for your health). Sad and angry over the horrible things people are capable of. I don't know what it is about this town or this state, maybe the low oxygen levels or something, but I think we have more than our fair share of nut jobs. Transplants (like our latest "alleged" mass murderer) and natives (Columbine) alike pull this shit. I don't understand it, and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart even more when the stories come out about the women protecting their children, and the men that decided to die so that others could live. Because THAT is what we should be. Those people are who we should strive to emulate. The ones willing to die to give other people a chance to survive the misplaced anger of some deranged idiot who blames everyone but himself for his problems. Now our state seems to have exported a white supremacist so full of hate that he's willing to kill people in their place of worship, and he may have had a friend who was late to the party. I do not understand. A Mosque was burned to the ground the next day in Missouri.
Something is very wrong in our country.
Under our skin, we're all the same bones and muscles and organs. If the aliens came down today they wouldn't know the difference between a Jew, Muslim, Christian, or Atheist. They would not comprehend the difference between Buddhist and Taoist philosophies. We'd all look and sound the same to them. Because we are. I'm so sick of us "othering" people we don't even fucking know (sorry Mom but sometimes you've got to drop the f bomb). We are far more alike than we are different. We are all descended from the same ancestors. We all want the same things. Hate is not useful. This has been an overwhelming month in our community. All because of anger and hate. Senseless and tragic.
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