The Healthy Soul

Once, many years ago, my daughter who was attempting the amazing feat of not only trying to live through junior high school, but also trying to do it with a high frequency hearing loss, was talking to me about some kids in her class. These kids were treating her with a Saccharine-tinged form of rude-kid faux courtesy—candy-coated on the outside and, on the very transparent inside, just meanness. Meanness masquerading.

We all know those people. People who take your life challenges or even your wins and through their own baggage or simply their own mean spirits trash you while pretending to give you your props. It’s a disgusting display of manipulative passive aggression, and I have always loathed it. Give me a plain old rude person any day of the week over a sickeningly-sweet snake.

When my daughter encountered these girls (boys can obviously act this way too, but girls own the stock), they were in the habit of greeting her with exaggerated smiles and too-loud greetings making her feel like she was the mentally challenged character in an over-acted, poorly written play. I have always thought this sort of hidden contempt was the greatest form of cowardice. To counteract these mini-terrorists I gave her a few one-liners. And while she never ended up confronting these girls who, like dogs on a street, were eventually distracted by a car going by, or another cat, or a bug—it helped her to cope to have a retort at the ready.

I said, when they say, “HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! HOW ARE YOU TODAY!!!!!!?????” (Icky smiles, hair flipping, facial contortions as they over-enunciated), she should look at them coolly and say, “You can treat me like I’m normal, but thanks for saying hi.” This simple response was a way of letting them know that:

1. She got it.
2. She thought they sucked.
3. She wasn’t playing.

Lately in my own health and weight loss quest I have been reminded of this story about my daughter because I have encountered my share of these mean junior high school girls morphed into “adults.” And while my quest and my blog are most often met with sincerely positive and uplifting good wishes from fine people, the occasional small souls are still around doing the equivalent of what my daughter encountered albeit in more insidious grown-up fashion—good wishes that are not-so-subtly patronizing, prejudices laced with smiles, loathsome behavior wrapped with ribbon.

This doesn’t mean that people should stop applauding one another at the risk of appearing patronizing. It’s just that covert meanness and passive aggression are acts of hostility and people who do it should be aware that their behavior is doubly disgusting because of the pretense—and that no one is fooled.

I continually thank God that I was raised by a woman who didn’t manipulate, who wasn’t a game player, and who spoke her mind without fearing being told she was too (fill in the blank—loud, assertive, not sweet enough, rough, pushy, etc.) I am glad that I am smart enough to understand and be aware of covert behavior and passive aggression and that I have never engaged in it. I relish the personal freedom I have because I have I learned to speak my truth and to not be mean. These are qualities I value far more in the world than even my health and fitness. I believe they are signs of a fit soul—and I am grateful for them every day.

Because, after all, you can work out constantly, you can reach your goal weight, you can be in perfect physical health, but if your soul isn’t healthy, if your light isn’t one of kindness and compassion, then at the end of the day, you have nothing but an empty package. And if you have filled this package with passive aggression and meanness and smallness, then what?

Bodies are important—but they are, and will always be, just the vehicles. A healthy soul comes first—and will always be the most valuable thing that anyone can possess.

Lessons in the Sun

Well it's over. I am on the plane back from Florida and I am considering the lessons learned at Camp Chad. Certainly three weeks is a very long time to be anywhere away from home on travel. It's a long time to be a good guest, it's a long time to remove yourself from everyday life and routine. But in spite of the stresses and exhaustion of travel I love it. I have often thought that I am happy going anywhere at all if it means I can hit the open road and explore. I like new places, I like local color, I like to remove myself from the way I usually think and I think this experience at Camp Chad facilitated that.

Of course you know, if you have been following my blog, I went to Camp Chad as a fitness and health excursion and I was successful. I definitely got a chance to improve my yoga skills and move from what I probably would have termed as a beginning yoga skill-level to an intermediate level. (Not that a true yogi grades his or her skill level that way, and I am convinced that the best part of yoga for me will always be the process of learning to be comfortable with myself and at one with the universe—the mind/body/spirit connection.) I realized with a great deal of happiness that my cardiovascular health has much improved. I can spend almost an hour on the most difficult running elliptical, I can master a very fast-paced aerobic hip hop dance class that was not only a blast but made me feel like I could be far more confident in what my body could do. I ate healthy (for the most part even though I did sneak away occasionally for lattes—I'm human—but I managed to stop drinking coffee after the early afternoon.) Oh, and I dropped 13 pounds.

But more than the active and intentional health and fitness changes I made and successes I had, I enjoyed the benefits of my increasing health and fitness. As a tourist in the amazingly romantic and beautiful town of St. Augustine I walked for hours. I saw museums I loved, strolled through amazing resort areas and landmark hotels, I visited the Fountain of Youth with family and strolled the grounds with ease stopping for a kitschy and amazingly relaxing presentation of the night sky projected on the ceiling of a mini and pretend planetarium with narration and sound effects that reminded me of a black and white film I might  have watched in elementary school. I tilted my head back in the pitch black theater and let the campy, touristy experience wash over me like cool Ginger ale. I loved it. 

I strolled from the hotel across the street from the Lightner Museum with my daughter and over a latte we decided to make our way to the marina for an evening boat cruise of the harbor. I thought nothing of making the mile or two walk in the high humidity, I bounced up the stairs of the small craft to the observation deck to take pictures without measuring my steps or making sure I didn't rush. In short, I forgot to be so worried about my every move physically because with my improved health and fitness I get to experience life without all the careful planning. Yes I can walk there, no I don't need to be dropped at the door. Yes I feel fine—even wonderful, etc., etc.

Also, I have been in Florida a number of times in the last ten years and believe it or not I never got to the beach. I went once when my daughter was little but was very uncomfortable making the walk from the parking lot to the ocean. I remember the strain I felt and I didn't enjoy putting on a swimsuit and lying on the beach or playing in the surf. Prior to this new experience it had been years since I could jump up and down from the sand to a standing position without thinking it through. Now I just do it. I walk down the beach in my swimsuit knowing that I am healthier than I have been in a long time and I am unconcerned with public opinion. I feel like I belong there and therefore I do.

My experiences at the Florida beaches were nothing sort of miraculous. If you are a California native—especially a Southern California native like me—you understand the call of the ocean. It's a part of me and probably represents home more than any other place on earth. Certainly I feel very much at peace there now. Prior to this experience when every step was an undertaking, when I felt ultra self conscious, when I was overheated and unhappy through the whole experience it just wasn't fun. I didn't trust my level of health enough to swim freely, I felt at risk. Frankly, I needed to feel at risk. That was accurate based on some real things. I was fat and out of shape past the point where I could safely and happily enjoy myself there. Well, no more.

As I sit writing this in an airplane seat I have the laptop perched quite comfortably on the pull-down tray in front of me and I fit in the seat well enough not to feel like I am encroaching on the space of others, and I know. I like to fit in the world. It's an incredible feeling of comfort that I will never take for granted again.

I am almost 52 years old now. I promised myself I would be in the best shape of my life when I reached the age my older brother died. I know now that I will still be in process, but I do know that my process is a wonderful, wondrous exploration of self and I do know that what I have done to change my life in the last couple of years makes me realize I feel like I am 39 again—not almost 52. I also know that we all have the chance to do this. If I can make these changes anyone can. If I can improve my health and fitness level enough to be enjoying my life I truly believe that anyone who wants to can make changes. Those changes may not be perfect, they may not always meet your original or “best-case” expectations but they will make anyone who undertakes them feel happier, more comfortable and more alive. And that's what it's really about.

So if you are reading this and you are having a bad day or month or year or, heck, decade about how you are doing physically, I am here to remind you today to realize it's baby steps. Do one thing and build on it. Make a small change in your life and applaud the hell out of it. You deserve your own praise. You deserve your own self-love and your own personal recognition. No one can change you but you. No one knows what is truly best for you but you. If you listen to what you need, to what you tell yourself quietly when the noise dies down each day, you will hear your own voice. That is the voice to give your attention to. Your inner knowing.Your true guide is really you. You know what to do. I am behind you 100%. I am proud of you as I am proud of me. I had a good time at camp. Thanks for coming along.

Love--

Beauty.

The Powerful Green Drink

Camp Chad has some very strange elements for the uninitiated. The most intense one being the Green Drink. Every morning upon arising participants in the camp are given a concoction of parsley, kale, limes, ginger, apples and cucumbers that has been blended to a frothy consistency. The goal is to take this green drink and "power it" or basically tip your head back and pretend you're a college freshman with a beer bong. It tastes odd--like you have ingested the contents of your lawn mower's clipping bag--very organic, tangy, incredibly fresh and strangely appealing.

Now the weird thing is (and we are about to get very graphic for those with tender sensibilities) this whole process acts like the most intense colon cleanse of your life. A while ago I purchased an over-the-counter colon cleanse that people in the fitness industry are always talking about and it did absolutely nothing for me except make me feel I had wasted a few weeks and a hundred dollars. This green drink, on the other hand, works like crazy. I felt as if my entire system was suddenly being purified. The insides of my digestive track released years of toxic waste. I was informed that it could have been, in addition to toxins, even "parasites." That seems a little hard to digest. But in any event, something has definitely started to happen.

What has started to happen is that I feel lighter. My abdomen feels like it is more compact, healthier and less bloated. My attitude, which is always pretty good, is soaring. Even with the get lag and an infection I have been dealing with I feel my body getting healthier.

I feel like at sometimes in my life I have been a scoffer, but there is no value in scoffing. What I feel like now is that I want to be open to experience. I am beginning to see that I can feel great. I can become someone who feels physically wonderful, happy to be in my body and gloriously alive. It's a strange and happy thought to think I can control this--I can change how I feel and the experience I have in my body on earth.

Maybe the green drink is the fruit of the Garden of Eden without all the penalties--just the joy and the sweetness. I think there's a good chance of that.

I hope you have a moment of pure pleasure and peace today. More adventures to follow...

And--cheers!

Day One-- A Long Day's Journey Into Night

Sometimes it takes a long time to get where you are going. That's a metaphor for my life on many levels, especially yesterday. I arrived at Phoenix Sky Harbor airport at about noon. About 5 PM I was on a plane to Camp Chad. Well, actually I was on a plane to Denver which had been delayed because of weather. It hailed in Denver yesterday for those of you not glued to the Weather Channel.

After waiting in the airport for hours I started out my sojourn into better health with a hot dog. It was the only choice and I stood up to eat it. However, in spite of the delay the airport seemed to be full of happy, even jovial people all going somewhere. Nothing like going somewhere to lift your spirits.

So getting on my Southwest flight I happened to sit by some great people--a man and his son who were coming from his sister's dog rescue ranch in the high desert in California. We laughed, we danced, we schmoozed--basically they were good people. The man was even gracious enough to put my enormous backpack stuffed to the brim with all my junk under  the seat in front of his feet. I am always amazed and gratified at the kindness of strangers. (But the guy at the pharmacy today took a point away from the Karmic flow of goodness to sort of equal things out.) Anyway, off we went to Denver where we landed to get rid of almost everyone and get a whole new flock of everyones to take off again. I was one of the three people going all the way through.

The next guy was a snorer. I started the flight by glaring at him at intervals and then found I could tune him out. Also I am not sure that it's good for my own psyche to glare at someone from Denver to Florida. So, I let it be courtesy of John Lennon and Buddha. I congratulated myself on my Zen and poured Bailey's into my coffee to prove the point. At two o'clock in the morning we finally docked in Jacksonville to deplane. My adventure begins!

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses.

Hello Dear Readers,

No, I have not been incarcerated, in rehab or on a bender. I have simply been dealing with a life that has more stress than a barrel full of monkeys and in fitness suspended animation.

I have so many excuses I could write a book about them all. Oh, wait, I have. So, now I am taking BATB on the road to "Camp Chad"--a cutting edge, all inclusive, exclusive weight loss spa located on the Eastern Seaboard. I will write you "postcards from the edge" as I find my own exercise "middle way" as the Buddhists would say.

I fly Thursday. Look for updates as I spend three weeks kicking butt and getting my butt kicked. I am glad to be back and I look forward to talking to you soon! Oh, and...wish you were here packing and doing laundry and dishes!

Love,

Beauty

Would Jesus Like my Yoga Class?

There is an old expression—whenever God closes a door, he opens a window. That is true, I believe. In my case that window was opened to yoga.

About 10 months ago I had the misfortune to swim in a pool and get something called "folliculitis." Basically this is a rash that covers your whole body and makes you feel like you are going to die if you get the severe version. If you get the lightweight version you get a bump or two, you wash with antibacterial soap, and it goes away. I got the severe version.

I went to war successfully against my gym. I called the health department. My gym admitted no wrongdoing, said and proved they passed their health department testing on the specific days levels of bacteria and other “ickys” were tested, but also got new lane lines and completely re-tiled in response to the cage rattling I did. I won, but I also haven't begun regular swim workouts again. I would like to and I will, eventually.

When I realized I didn't want to swim for my exercise for a while (mostly out of fear), I also knew that I didn't want to give up my fitness regimen. I had worked too hard and too long to backslide. I needed alternatives. While I was at my very heaviest I loved the pool in spite of the fact that it was a terrible challenge to force myself into a bathing suit and get out there. As I made my way from the locker room to the pool I always felt like I was a prisoner of my own body making my last walk to execution—Fat Girl Walking—but once there I had the weightlessness of the water to my advantage. I lifted the extra pounds of weight off my frame and I was effectively much lighter, more graceful, and able to work out pulling a more normal amount of weight around.

One horrible part about obesity is you miss so much. Your world gets smaller and smaller the worse you feel and the more difficult it is to move around. Things fall away. The folliculitis (interesting gift, don't you think?) coincided with a rather large amount of weight loss. I yearned to get out of my comfort zone a little and experience some of the things I had been missing for so long—or had never tried. I wanted those things back. So I braved my local junior college.

As I was in my own mind (ok, and reality too) a "middle-aged-fat-woman," I was pretty worried about taking the plunge back into my local junior college. The last few times I had been to an open house at my daughter's high school I couldn't fit into a student desk. My fear of being anywhere I couldn't fit was—well, huge. But online registration appealed to me, and I thought, if not now, then when?

I registered for classes in the Fall semester. I registered for four classes—Gentle Yoga, Pilates, Body Sculpting and Tap Dancing. I have always been the kind of person who once decided, goes with as much gusto as I can muster.

Now a little side note about "Fall Semester" in Phoenix. It is about 117 degrees here in the fall. Not only was it going to be hard to do all these classes, but even for a healthy thin person it would be hard to walk into the class locations. A parking lot in 117-degree weather gets to be about 130 degrees because of heat retained in the asphalt. It's dangerous. But I planned a strategy. I armed myself with bottles of water and diet sports drinks. I had a spray fan from Disneyland that would effectively work as a hand-held swamp cooler. I had a charged cell phone. I even had an umbrella. I was going to look like a fat, middle-aged, idiot—but I was going to live. I wasn't a girl scout for nothing. It's a wonder I didn’t use my lashing skills (knot tying for the uninitiated) to fashion some heat-stroke-preventing contraption, but that's another story.

At the time that I began classes I had also moved my workout at the gym from the pool to cardio. I could manage a 30-minute elliptical workout—the previous May my visiting brother, very optimistic about what was then my 30-pound weight loss, cheered me on and copiously high-fived me when I managed a five-minute elliptical attempt. The first day of classes I still knew that sitting on the floor of a work out room and getting back up again would be a challenge. (One of the really limiting and frustrating things about being fat is all the planning about trivia. How will I walk through the parking lot? How will I get up from the floor? How can I fit in a plane seat, restaurant booth, amusement park ride, etc.—how will I not embarrass myself?)

My classes began with Body Sculpting. In retrospect I definitely was in the right class first. The class leader, a extremely fit 30-something woman with a contagious smile, a crazy amount of energy and a very accepting attitude bounced into the class and asked that we introduce ourselves and give a brief bio about who we were and why we were taking her class. I mentioned the fifty pound weight loss and said something self-deprecating about how I would be the least coordinated and able-bodied person in the class. She told me publicly in a very nice way that I should quit knocking myself. It was a good lesson. I will probably never forget it.

Her attitude made me realize that I was accepted there and even welcomed. (This in spite of the fact that I was definitely the fattest, probably the oldest, and certainly the least fit.) So there I was. She played people's play lists on their IPods and laughed when the songs got a little over-the-top or rude. She walked in class and said, "I am glad you are talking, continue, get to know each other." And she told me after class that I was the sort of person that made her glad she taught. She told me I was an inspiration, I told her she was.

The class was extremely hard. Grueling, toning work that uses your own body weight instead of weights as natural equipment. Lifting my own body weight was a very big deal—but I could, even though at times I fantasized about dropping to the floor and staying there, and I actually had perspiration dripping down my face and all over my body like some hulking Olympic hopeful lifting huge weights overhead. If it wasn't for my instructor’s penchant to crack jokes and keep everyone smiling while she did the workout herself, I don't think I would have survived. I managed to.

After class I would drink water and try to figure out how I would make it to my car in the 117-degree heat alive. I had to walk it. I filled up my empty 32-ounce energy drink with water—ice cold from the refrigerated fountain. I took out another bottle of water to drink along the way. I made sure my keys were at hand and turned on my water fan and even had my umbrella at the ready. I literally had to concentrate to make it. If I was unlucky enough to park in the far lot it was about a city-block in distance. Not a big deal to most people even in the heat, but to me like walking through the gates of hell to a waiting oasis that could be a mirage.

After the first couple of steps out of the air-conditioned work out facility I figured out I needed to amend my plan. I took the 32-ounces of ice-cold water and poured it over my head. I looked like a twisted version of Flash Dance—without the glamour. But on I marched—dipping wet, hot as hell, and holding an umbrella overhead. Gorgeous and triumphant.

End of Part One--

 Stats: Today in the mail I got my actual Go Red pin! I am wearing it now—along with the purple ribbon, which is still on my wrist, refusing to budge. The last two weeks have been fraught with stress. It would be easy to fabricate weight loss and success, but I can't—and won't. All I can tell you is I am holding on, I have made it through one of the most stressful two-week periods in my life without gaining weight, while holding on to most of my goals, but not seeing the scale move. I am not giving up and I hope that now that this very stressful set of personal circumstances has passed that I can get my body to release more weight. Interestingly, bodies react to crisis by moving into survival mode and holding weight. I have still lost a little over ten pounds since I began my recent Go Red quest, and I have time and willpower to succeed. Think a good thought for me this week as I get back on track.

The Wish



The other day I visited the Scottsdale Contemporary Art Museum or SMOCA where I had the chance to see and actually participate in an interesting exhibit. I entered the exhibit room and from floor to ceiling hung hundreds of colorful ribbons suspended by tiny wholes drilled into the walls. Each ribbon had a printed wish. The wishes ranged from the happy—“I wish to go to Bahia,” to the serious and upsetting, “I wish that it is benign,” to everything else possible in-between. My daughter and I spent a long time in this exhibit reading the rows and rows of wishes. One feature of the exhibit was the chance to participate. Anyone who cared to could write their own wish on a small slip of paper, roll it into a tiny tube, select an existing wish ribbon and replace it with their own.

So I selected a wish. The one that made the most sense was: “I wish to take better care of myself.” Tying it on my wrist I became strangely attached to the person who made this wish—someone I would never know and never see and had no connection to other than their wish—the heart’s desire of a stranger.

So I started to wear the wish. I realized that wearing a purple ribbon on my wrist was going to be a bit of a hassle. It gets in the way. It gets wet. It falls into whatever it is I am doing. It bothers me when I prepare food and when I eat. I have even bathed with it. It’s often annoying—like this quest I am on.

Getting fit and losing weight is difficult and, like the ribbon, it’s something constantly with me even when it’s not my immediate focus. Every time I look at it I think about how I can better take care of myself. Not only physically, but emotionally. 

In the last two weeks my ribbon has lost its printed message and is beginning to be tattered. I have a feeling it will be around my wrist all summer. While it is with me I am going to honor it and my journey and take a moment each day to wish this fellow traveler—the wisher—a happy, healthy experience. Each day I will remember to thank this unknown friend for the chance to help them on their way by remembering my own.

Stats

It’s been two weeks of high stress related to some family issues and nothing seemed manageable. My program definitely took a hit as I lost sleep, made poor food choices, and basically got off track—so off track I missed a post. However, it’s the recovery and getting back on track in these sorts of circumstances that makes a successful program. I definitely feel back on track in the last day or two.

Weight loss—Nothing this time, but plateaus are inevitable (and I know what happened) so I’m not worried.

Water, fruit, vegetables, etc.—I could do better with the water since it’s suddenly hot here again water is far more important. Also, I have replaced one meal a day with a whey shake. I think this is a great alternative for me and really helps with energy for exercise.

Exercise—Both Pilates and yoga with some time at the gym doing cardio. I am definitely working my way back to an hour of cardio on the elliptical since my illness. Last night I did 40 minutes—a ten minute increase over my previous time.

Attitude—Back on track. 

Until next week—may your wishes come true! Go Red!

Note: The exhibit is called “I Wish Your Wish” by Rivane Neuenschwander

http://www.artnet.com/artists/rivane-neuenschwander/

http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&biw=1419&bih=617&gbv=2&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=i+wish+your+wish+rivane+neuenschwander&aq=1&aqi=g2&aql=&oq=i+wish+your+wish