To all of you who read my blog regularly, I cannot thank you enough for messaging, commenting, giving hugs and being so supportive during my 50 day juice fast. It's been 3 weeks since my "The Last Day", a post that saw more than 200 times the normal amount of readers, and time for an update . . .
Denial - Anger - Bargaining - Depression - Acceptance
That's the order in which you're supposed to handle grief .
Denial -- yup, I had that one in spades. Had plenty of denial; plenty of "I can fix this, and make it okay". But I was the only one thinking that sadly.
Anger - I don't think I had much of this one. Or maybe I think I should have been angrier. But in all honesty, I think I skipped right on ahead. (Some will argue that my last blog post was my anger phase. My blog post was not an attack. It was not my way of coloring things or trying to sway the masses. I was feeling completely humiliated, having panic attacks and feeling more of less worthless. I just didn't know any other way of owning that I had failed in my relationship -- failed to the point where I would be lied to so blatantly -- and I needed to get out from under it. I did not want to hurt anyone through my writing.)
Bargaining & Depression -- This is where I have been spending most of my time. I would like to say it's the name of a cool new bar, but alas, no. I think that bargaining and depression actually go together very nicely. But to say I have been making a hot mess of my life would be an understatement.. I used to be the type of person that when I got depressed would sleep 15 hours in a day -- not anymore. I sleep about 3 hours/night and then am up, maybe squeezing in one more hour before dawn. I don't sleep when I'm with him*, and I don't sleep when I'm away from him. But I fall asleep quite easily, and then wake up promptly 3 hours later to haunt the rest of the night like a Shakespearean ghost. But even Hamlet's father didn't spend that much time on stage -- he had plenty of time on the Equity cot backstage while Hamlet prattled on about something.
* See: Denial & Bargaining.
Acceptance: Yeah, I'll call you when I get here.
I have had a lot of family pass in the last year, and had just as many friends lose loved ones in that same short span of time. Buying Sympathy Cards in bulk wasn't a joke. It was a necessity, and I have to remember to post another one on Monday. It was just a bad year. But somehow, accepting death, while becoming no less painful, has become somehow easier. People die. You may postpone the day, but you will not avoid it. It will happen. Neither your loved one nor God are trying to hurt you through the act of dying. It is just an inevitability.
So, how do you find acceptance when a loved one betrays you? They do have a choice. The truth may be difficult to tell, but it's always a better choice than a lie. So, when someone you love decides to lie to you, betray you and hurt you, how do you find acceptance? I found denial, some anger, bargaining, and depression very easily. I even found forgiveness without much effort, but, acceptance eludes me. It doesn't appear on the map. I don't see it off the horizon. I don't want to accept it, if accepting it means saying "it's okay". It's not okay. It's absolutely not okay. There is no need to look someone you care for in the eye and lie unless it involves Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy or the Monster-That (used to) Live-Under-My-Bed who has had to relocate to Manhattan. Those are fine. But months of deception and lies are not acceptable. I will not rubber stamp that one and let it slide. No, I can't change it, and holding my breath until I turn blue will not turn back time. I acknowledge it. I recognized that it occurred. But I do not accept it.
But on the subject of juicing . . . (that's really why we were here, right?)
In three weeks, I have kept off all but 4.5 lbs of what I lost which is right in line with what I'd estimated. Processing solids effectively took more than a week to regulate. I have found that in addition to the high fiber diet I already have, (Vega - vegan protein supplement & soluble fiber added to other beverage), psyllium husk works amazingly well to clean out the system. I don't crave sweets at all. I have remained vegan at home, and restaurant vegetarian (and vegan when possible). My portions have remained smaller, and my desire for fresh vegetables has remained high. But nothing beats spicy food -- don't care what kind of spice, just anything not fruity!
I ran the BAA 5K, and improved my personal best time by 4 minutes I should be running and cycling more, and hope to when I start sleeping more. I am taking riding lessons, and finally started painting the bedroom with the help of a very dear friend who knew I needed a little push. I have the BAA 10k in June and the half-marathon in October. I need to finish painting the kitchen and bedroom, then touch-up the dinning room. Once that's complete, I hope to crank out the living room paint before the contractors come to rip out my bathroom. Oh, and I've gotten through 1.5 books of Game of Thrones.
Do I still have juice? Not every day, but quite often. When I'm lazy, I'll just make a serving of Vega -- 5 minutes and a lot less clean-up. Pure laziness, nothing more.
And Johnny . . . the little kitty lounging at the top of my blog.
The drug that Johnny is on to treat his squamous cell carcinoma comes in a container marked as a bio-hazard. I have to give him a Pepcid tablet everyday to prevent nausea. I've also been warned that I should not handle the pill, and that I should wear gloves. I have always taken precautions when preparing Johnny's food with the medication, but I also know that if he's resistant to take it on a particular day, I must get it in him. So, one day I handled his food after the moisture had started to breakdown the medication. I just didn't see how something that wasn't making a 10 lb cat sick, could make me all that sick. I was wrong, very wrong, home from work sleep on the bathroom floor wrong. Lesson learned.
John-John had his trip to the oncologist a week after my cleanse finished. Thus far his medication has had a positive effect. He has lost some weight, which I'm trying to get back on him. But we are continuing the treatment in hope of ridding him of the tumor completely. He has turned 13, and it appears to be a much luckier number for him than most. Considering his initial diagnosis would have had me burying him next month, John-John looks like he'll be drooling on me for many moons to come. (Fingers crossed.)
Thank you for coming on this journey with me. Please reach out with any questions you may have on juicing -- I'm not an expert, but I do have experience. :)
Best of luck on your journeys!
Nicole
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
The Last Day
Today has been the last day of my juice fast. In the beginning, I was very open about why I had embarked on this, and how cancer had been affecting my life, my family and my friends. It is with tremendous sadness that I announce that one of my dear friends has lost her mum to cancer this week. Diagnosed only about a month ago with uterine cancer, her illness was too far along and too aggressive to fight. My love and prayers go to the Woodyard Family as they celebrate Teddy's wonderful life.
For those of you who have read regularly, you know I have had some dark times during this fast. I have been too embarrassed to elaborate. I have been hoping to fix things; to tie everything up neatly with a bow; to go back and make everything pretty again. And then no one would ever need to know. When someone you've been in a relationship with for a long time cheats on you, you are not only hurt but you feel humiliated. I felt like I had failed at the one thing that really mattered in my life. Every relationship has two points of view, and I fully admit that I am not perfect. No one is. We're human. So when I found out, I got angry at first, and then I got paranoid, but I made it to forgiveness. For the 6+ years we'd been together, I can say that we've had our fair share of drama, but we have always loved each other dearly. Or so I thought.
I have been determined to fight for my relationship. Not out of pride, but love. I have always believed deeply that our love was something special, something of storybooks. And that is not something you turnaway from lightly. My BF said he needed space, so at first I stayed with friends. Then he rented an apartment, and I moved 'home'. He was having a self-proclaimed midlife crisis and needed to find himself and his true path. After an amourous morning we were supposed to be discussing our bathroom remodeling, we took the subway to work together making small talk about a concert that night and work projects. He suddenly got a pained expression on his face, and broke up with me on the 6th train. I stood outside his office on Park Avenue South in a complete daze. I had no idea how that happened. I was in such shock I couldn't cry. I wasn't even sure I was breathing. It was like standing very close to an enormous explosion when you realize that you cannot hear anything at all. Manhttan was silent.
We went to the concert that night. We went home together. And maybe we thought it was the last night on earth, but no one who saw us that night would have thought we were anything but deeply in love. You would have never guessed that one of us was about to move out. And as the days leading up to the official move ticked by, we missed each other. We spent time talking to one another -- and not about bills or chores, but about what was truly important in our lives. In a little less than a month, we found the reasons we'd loved one another. Then just three days before his move, he professed that he did indeed love me and that we would find a way to make it all work.
We started calling his apartment, the Summer Home. Our building super was told that things were being moved to storage and our summer home. (No, people, we cannot afford a summer home, but it sounded good.) I had moved out of and back into our storage unit in the course of a week. When friends asked, I said we were working on it. It was seriously the best moving out on a relationship a couple ever spent together. We were together everyday. We were out with friends. We went to a hockey game. Before the movers came, we were cuddled up on the couch together.
This was Monday.
I went to work. The movers came and went. He went to work. We went home from work to his apartment and unpacked. And I stayed. We were both a bit nervous, and being there felt a little like a hotel only you care a little more what the room next to you hears. Tuesday morning came, and I was filled with dread. Just the morning before, he had said "I never expected us to get back here this quickly," so why was I suddenly scared to death? He needed to get ready for work and I needed to do the walk of shame from my Summer Home, so when I burst into tears, he told me I was being silly. And I was, right? I mean, we had a GREAT weekend. We spent the first night he'd officially moved into his apartment together. Why should I feel any concern?
Something was eating at me that whole day. I went home, and went to futon (as he retained custody of the bed) and had horrid nightmares that had me up all night. I emailed him in the morning about my nightmares thinking it was odd that he hadn't texted me the night before. I had a nightmare about the contractors for the bathroom. I had one about not being invited to Easter dinner. I had one where there was two of him -- they were identical -- but not the same, and they didn't know me. And in the midst of those dreams, I had one that brought me back to the morning. I was leaving the summer home again, but this time I could see what happened when I left. He showered, packed a bag and got on a plane and left me.
But that would only happen in a dream, right?
I texted. No response.
I waited patiently until 9 AM, and then I called. Do you know the difference between the sound of a ringtone for a domestic call and an international call? I do. I sat in my bedroom which no longer has a bed, and I stared that the floor. I couldn't get up. The affair he'd had months ago happened at an infant's funeral in Europe. I knew he was gone. But I couldn't understand why he'd had the change of heart and sucked me back into a sense of false security only hours before.
And then he texted. He was just getting to work -- it was now 10 AM -- and had had a rough start to the day. Hadn't seen my email yet, but would be online. I went to work, and he got caught up on his reading. "Honey, you're not sleeping well, it's making you think crazy things." "So, you're only a few blocks away?" "Of course." Maybe I really was crazy! Maybe the lack of food and all of the stress has really gotten to me to the point where I'm dreaming up crazy scenarios and believing them. I felt like an idiot.
"Honey, I have back to back meetings today, so I'll be on and offline, but will be in touch." "Oh, and my phone says SIM card error, so I'm going to have to sort that out." Note to readers -- if you're the guy in this scenario, quit while you're ahead. Once you've got me convinced that I'm crazy, you don't need to give me the Perfect Storm. The lottery numbers that came to me in a dream didn't win 640 million dollars. Sometimes a dream is just a dream.
I went to the theatre with a friend that night, and told her my crazy notion. "You could just go to his office" "What, and prove that I'm insane? No. I want to be wrong. I want it to be a stupid, paranoid dream." When I turned my phone on after the show, he'd sent a few messages before leaving the office. His phone still wasn't working apparently. C'est la vie.
First thing the next morning, I got emails from him. The phone still needed to be fixed, but would see me online shortly. Loved me, missed me, xxx. I replied in-kind. And then I noticed something. The time stamp on the email said he's received my email from 9:30 PM the night before at 3:30 AM. 6 hours ahead. I'd almost missed it. But all of his replies to my emails were the same. 6 hours off. Spain is 6 hours ahead. I couldn't turn away from it no matter how badly I wanted to. And you have no idea how badly I wanted to. "Honey, you're a bad liar. I've always told you that."
Yes. My dream was more or less dead on. He kissed me good-bye, told me he loved, got on a plane and thought he could pretend to be in midtown Manhattan when he was actually in Barcelona with another woman and her children, for a week over a holiday. If I was sitting next to you in a bar, and you told me this story, I would never believe you. I find aligators in the New York City subway system more plausible then the tale I have just told you. But that has been my reality this week. I love this man with my heart and soul and have been so completely gobsmacked by this that I don't know which way is up. Who does that!?! And when he did call because the jig was more than up, and apologized, and said he loved me, and said he never has been able to leave me, and said he hadn't been able to sleep with her, and admited that he never told her the whole truth about us, but he just couldn't come back right now; he made sure to throw in, "but DO NOT contact 'her' or 'ex-baby-mama who I am still negotiating custody with'.
But he never said I couldn't tell all of you.
I have hung my head in shame, cried until I was sick, been completely and utterly useless at work, not returned calls to my parents and shut out my friends. I made it incredibly easy for him to hurt me because I was making apologies for him. I have taken all of the blame and shame on myself. I blamed myself for him cheating. And I put him, and his needs first. I let him accuse me of hacking his accounts, or maybe it was his 'ex-baby-mama who I am still negotiating custody with', because he swore people seemed to know things they shouldn't know. I blocked friends on Facebook because he said they were reading my page and funneling information back to ex-BM. And I was forbidden to ever tell certain people we were really together -- though it's been years.
When you have more than one truth, life is very complicated and stressful. I sadly believe he has a different truth for everyone in his life. We all get to see him the way he wants us to see him. But when, like me, you see through the veneer, you just become a liability. Do you want to see your lies reflected in your lover's eyes? After I'd found out he'd cheated, I said I would accept him for who he is. We're all human, and we all make mistakes. Own your mistakes, make amends, and move on. And that's how we were able to get back together in the first place. But you'll notice that I said "Move On" and not "Repeat".
Matthew 18:21-22
The Peter came to Jesus, and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?
Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."
I can forgive him. I will forgive him. I have forgiven him. His burden is much heavier than mine. He has to accept forgiveness, and find one truth to live by. He will not find the fresh start he so desperately wants when it is built on lies and deception. The cycle will just continue. When you fear someone speaking the truth, you need to change your ways.
Thank you all for letting me get this out. I am by no means a matyr in this situation. While I should not take on all of the blame, a relationship takes two people, and some of the blame is unquestionablly mine. It could be Karma -- but in any case the cycle needs to stop.
The last 50 days have been incredibly hard. Juicing was easy in comparison. As of today, I'd lost over 30 lbs. Normally, that last sentence would make me incredibly happy. I'm just not there. I have a lot of healing to do. And hopefully, happiness will follow.
For those of you who have read regularly, you know I have had some dark times during this fast. I have been too embarrassed to elaborate. I have been hoping to fix things; to tie everything up neatly with a bow; to go back and make everything pretty again. And then no one would ever need to know. When someone you've been in a relationship with for a long time cheats on you, you are not only hurt but you feel humiliated. I felt like I had failed at the one thing that really mattered in my life. Every relationship has two points of view, and I fully admit that I am not perfect. No one is. We're human. So when I found out, I got angry at first, and then I got paranoid, but I made it to forgiveness. For the 6+ years we'd been together, I can say that we've had our fair share of drama, but we have always loved each other dearly. Or so I thought.
I have been determined to fight for my relationship. Not out of pride, but love. I have always believed deeply that our love was something special, something of storybooks. And that is not something you turnaway from lightly. My BF said he needed space, so at first I stayed with friends. Then he rented an apartment, and I moved 'home'. He was having a self-proclaimed midlife crisis and needed to find himself and his true path. After an amourous morning we were supposed to be discussing our bathroom remodeling, we took the subway to work together making small talk about a concert that night and work projects. He suddenly got a pained expression on his face, and broke up with me on the 6th train. I stood outside his office on Park Avenue South in a complete daze. I had no idea how that happened. I was in such shock I couldn't cry. I wasn't even sure I was breathing. It was like standing very close to an enormous explosion when you realize that you cannot hear anything at all. Manhttan was silent.
We went to the concert that night. We went home together. And maybe we thought it was the last night on earth, but no one who saw us that night would have thought we were anything but deeply in love. You would have never guessed that one of us was about to move out. And as the days leading up to the official move ticked by, we missed each other. We spent time talking to one another -- and not about bills or chores, but about what was truly important in our lives. In a little less than a month, we found the reasons we'd loved one another. Then just three days before his move, he professed that he did indeed love me and that we would find a way to make it all work.
We started calling his apartment, the Summer Home. Our building super was told that things were being moved to storage and our summer home. (No, people, we cannot afford a summer home, but it sounded good.) I had moved out of and back into our storage unit in the course of a week. When friends asked, I said we were working on it. It was seriously the best moving out on a relationship a couple ever spent together. We were together everyday. We were out with friends. We went to a hockey game. Before the movers came, we were cuddled up on the couch together.
This was Monday.
I went to work. The movers came and went. He went to work. We went home from work to his apartment and unpacked. And I stayed. We were both a bit nervous, and being there felt a little like a hotel only you care a little more what the room next to you hears. Tuesday morning came, and I was filled with dread. Just the morning before, he had said "I never expected us to get back here this quickly," so why was I suddenly scared to death? He needed to get ready for work and I needed to do the walk of shame from my Summer Home, so when I burst into tears, he told me I was being silly. And I was, right? I mean, we had a GREAT weekend. We spent the first night he'd officially moved into his apartment together. Why should I feel any concern?
Something was eating at me that whole day. I went home, and went to futon (as he retained custody of the bed) and had horrid nightmares that had me up all night. I emailed him in the morning about my nightmares thinking it was odd that he hadn't texted me the night before. I had a nightmare about the contractors for the bathroom. I had one about not being invited to Easter dinner. I had one where there was two of him -- they were identical -- but not the same, and they didn't know me. And in the midst of those dreams, I had one that brought me back to the morning. I was leaving the summer home again, but this time I could see what happened when I left. He showered, packed a bag and got on a plane and left me.
But that would only happen in a dream, right?
I texted. No response.
I waited patiently until 9 AM, and then I called. Do you know the difference between the sound of a ringtone for a domestic call and an international call? I do. I sat in my bedroom which no longer has a bed, and I stared that the floor. I couldn't get up. The affair he'd had months ago happened at an infant's funeral in Europe. I knew he was gone. But I couldn't understand why he'd had the change of heart and sucked me back into a sense of false security only hours before.
And then he texted. He was just getting to work -- it was now 10 AM -- and had had a rough start to the day. Hadn't seen my email yet, but would be online. I went to work, and he got caught up on his reading. "Honey, you're not sleeping well, it's making you think crazy things." "So, you're only a few blocks away?" "Of course." Maybe I really was crazy! Maybe the lack of food and all of the stress has really gotten to me to the point where I'm dreaming up crazy scenarios and believing them. I felt like an idiot.
"Honey, I have back to back meetings today, so I'll be on and offline, but will be in touch." "Oh, and my phone says SIM card error, so I'm going to have to sort that out." Note to readers -- if you're the guy in this scenario, quit while you're ahead. Once you've got me convinced that I'm crazy, you don't need to give me the Perfect Storm. The lottery numbers that came to me in a dream didn't win 640 million dollars. Sometimes a dream is just a dream.
I went to the theatre with a friend that night, and told her my crazy notion. "You could just go to his office" "What, and prove that I'm insane? No. I want to be wrong. I want it to be a stupid, paranoid dream." When I turned my phone on after the show, he'd sent a few messages before leaving the office. His phone still wasn't working apparently. C'est la vie.
First thing the next morning, I got emails from him. The phone still needed to be fixed, but would see me online shortly. Loved me, missed me, xxx. I replied in-kind. And then I noticed something. The time stamp on the email said he's received my email from 9:30 PM the night before at 3:30 AM. 6 hours ahead. I'd almost missed it. But all of his replies to my emails were the same. 6 hours off. Spain is 6 hours ahead. I couldn't turn away from it no matter how badly I wanted to. And you have no idea how badly I wanted to. "Honey, you're a bad liar. I've always told you that."
Yes. My dream was more or less dead on. He kissed me good-bye, told me he loved, got on a plane and thought he could pretend to be in midtown Manhattan when he was actually in Barcelona with another woman and her children, for a week over a holiday. If I was sitting next to you in a bar, and you told me this story, I would never believe you. I find aligators in the New York City subway system more plausible then the tale I have just told you. But that has been my reality this week. I love this man with my heart and soul and have been so completely gobsmacked by this that I don't know which way is up. Who does that!?! And when he did call because the jig was more than up, and apologized, and said he loved me, and said he never has been able to leave me, and said he hadn't been able to sleep with her, and admited that he never told her the whole truth about us, but he just couldn't come back right now; he made sure to throw in, "but DO NOT contact 'her' or 'ex-baby-mama who I am still negotiating custody with'.
But he never said I couldn't tell all of you.
I have hung my head in shame, cried until I was sick, been completely and utterly useless at work, not returned calls to my parents and shut out my friends. I made it incredibly easy for him to hurt me because I was making apologies for him. I have taken all of the blame and shame on myself. I blamed myself for him cheating. And I put him, and his needs first. I let him accuse me of hacking his accounts, or maybe it was his 'ex-baby-mama who I am still negotiating custody with', because he swore people seemed to know things they shouldn't know. I blocked friends on Facebook because he said they were reading my page and funneling information back to ex-BM. And I was forbidden to ever tell certain people we were really together -- though it's been years.
When you have more than one truth, life is very complicated and stressful. I sadly believe he has a different truth for everyone in his life. We all get to see him the way he wants us to see him. But when, like me, you see through the veneer, you just become a liability. Do you want to see your lies reflected in your lover's eyes? After I'd found out he'd cheated, I said I would accept him for who he is. We're all human, and we all make mistakes. Own your mistakes, make amends, and move on. And that's how we were able to get back together in the first place. But you'll notice that I said "Move On" and not "Repeat".
Matthew 18:21-22
The Peter came to Jesus, and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?
Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."
I can forgive him. I will forgive him. I have forgiven him. His burden is much heavier than mine. He has to accept forgiveness, and find one truth to live by. He will not find the fresh start he so desperately wants when it is built on lies and deception. The cycle will just continue. When you fear someone speaking the truth, you need to change your ways.
Thank you all for letting me get this out. I am by no means a matyr in this situation. While I should not take on all of the blame, a relationship takes two people, and some of the blame is unquestionablly mine. It could be Karma -- but in any case the cycle needs to stop.
The last 50 days have been incredibly hard. Juicing was easy in comparison. As of today, I'd lost over 30 lbs. Normally, that last sentence would make me incredibly happy. I'm just not there. I have a lot of healing to do. And hopefully, happiness will follow.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Humpty Dumpty
When I ran the Boston Half Marathon last October, the temperature was in the 80s. In the last 400 meters, I thought I was going to vomit. I wanted to stop there and then and give up. But the end was quite literally in sight, so I sucked it up and kept going.
If I was Humpty Dumpty, this is Wall Day. We all do dumb things sometimes, like an egg choosing to sit on a high wall. Maybe he was suffering long term shame and embarassment like Kal-El Cage, Pilot Inspektor Lee or Sage Moonblood Stallone. Maybe he jumped. Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And maybe he was pushed. All I know is he wasn't hard-boiled, and he did not survive.
I cannot tell you how long these 49 days have been. We all have ups and downs, but the downs have been really low. This one I saw coming. I stood there like a deer and headlights from the moment I heard the car start. I waited for the car to warm-up, I waited for it to get up to speed, I adjusted myself to be center on my mark -- for the Love of God, I think I may have paid for the gas -- and then I stood there and let it hit me, staring the driver squarely in the eye.
But I didn't feel it. I'm just numb. You can only be hit so many times (figuratively or literally) before you just don't feel it anymore. There are no tears left to cry. You just pack up your toys and go home. Exhausted.
Am I defeated? Was it the driver's fault or mine? I don't think there was a winner. Just survivors. Surviving is not the new winning. Charlie Sheen has left the building.
If I was Humpty Dumpty, this is Wall Day. We all do dumb things sometimes, like an egg choosing to sit on a high wall. Maybe he was suffering long term shame and embarassment like Kal-El Cage, Pilot Inspektor Lee or Sage Moonblood Stallone. Maybe he jumped. Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And maybe he was pushed. All I know is he wasn't hard-boiled, and he did not survive.
I cannot tell you how long these 49 days have been. We all have ups and downs, but the downs have been really low. This one I saw coming. I stood there like a deer and headlights from the moment I heard the car start. I waited for the car to warm-up, I waited for it to get up to speed, I adjusted myself to be center on my mark -- for the Love of God, I think I may have paid for the gas -- and then I stood there and let it hit me, staring the driver squarely in the eye.
But I didn't feel it. I'm just numb. You can only be hit so many times (figuratively or literally) before you just don't feel it anymore. There are no tears left to cry. You just pack up your toys and go home. Exhausted.
Am I defeated? Was it the driver's fault or mine? I don't think there was a winner. Just survivors. Surviving is not the new winning. Charlie Sheen has left the building.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
48 down, 2 to Go!
Yes, people, after today, I have 2 days left on my juice fast!
You heard me, "2"!!!
And, I road my bike to work today. So there!
How do you like them, apples!?!
The truth of the matter is, I'm not sure why I'm stopping now. I've gotten so used to juicing, that I actually want to stay this way. I'm not saying I'm never going to eat again. But food has always been my biggest addiction, and now it seems utterly unimportant. Food, and/or juice, now just feels like fuel. Do I want to pass-up my mother's eggplant? No, but how often do I have that anyway? A special occasion can still be special, but I don't need to eat big, starchy meals every day.
Controling hunger will be an interesting challenge. I know once I'm eating solids, I'm going to get hungry. I haven't been truly hungry in weeks! Food smells good, and once in a while when I'm sitting with someone who is eating, I have a craving. But cravings and hunger are two different things. Cravings will probably be a lot stronger, and more over-powering than hunger. Now, that's a scary notion!
Whatever happens this time around, I don't want to go backwards. What I've done takes too much control and willpower -- two things I now know I have in abundance -- so I'll need rely on those when the going gets tough. I need to keep my good habits like going to the gym instead of going for coffee. And when I go on vacation, I need to go back to normal when I get home, and not continue to eat like I'm on vacation. Oh! And just because it's vegan, doesn't mean it's not full of 'sugar' of one sort or another -- let's face it, French Fries are vegan.
Next week, I have a doctor's appointment, where I'm sure I'll do a whole battery of tests like cholesterol and such. I will do a posting with those results when they're in. I'll also let you know about eating, and how my body reacts in the first few days.
Thank you all for being so supportive, and so gracious!
You heard me, "2"!!!
And, I road my bike to work today. So there!
How do you like them, apples!?!
The truth of the matter is, I'm not sure why I'm stopping now. I've gotten so used to juicing, that I actually want to stay this way. I'm not saying I'm never going to eat again. But food has always been my biggest addiction, and now it seems utterly unimportant. Food, and/or juice, now just feels like fuel. Do I want to pass-up my mother's eggplant? No, but how often do I have that anyway? A special occasion can still be special, but I don't need to eat big, starchy meals every day.
Controling hunger will be an interesting challenge. I know once I'm eating solids, I'm going to get hungry. I haven't been truly hungry in weeks! Food smells good, and once in a while when I'm sitting with someone who is eating, I have a craving. But cravings and hunger are two different things. Cravings will probably be a lot stronger, and more over-powering than hunger. Now, that's a scary notion!
Whatever happens this time around, I don't want to go backwards. What I've done takes too much control and willpower -- two things I now know I have in abundance -- so I'll need rely on those when the going gets tough. I need to keep my good habits like going to the gym instead of going for coffee. And when I go on vacation, I need to go back to normal when I get home, and not continue to eat like I'm on vacation. Oh! And just because it's vegan, doesn't mean it's not full of 'sugar' of one sort or another -- let's face it, French Fries are vegan.
Next week, I have a doctor's appointment, where I'm sure I'll do a whole battery of tests like cholesterol and such. I will do a posting with those results when they're in. I'll also let you know about eating, and how my body reacts in the first few days.
Thank you all for being so supportive, and so gracious!
Monday, April 2, 2012
A Belt
A belt is a relatively simple device. It holds your pants up. It can sometimes just be a fashion accessory, but for the most part it holds your pants up.
I've never needed one as there has never been any chance my pants would fall down. There was enough of me for my pants to hold on to, and sometimes, there was more than enough. So, I can say with certainty, that it's been years since I've worn a belt. Until today . . .
I am wearing a belt with my smallest jeans. I am 4 days from my goal, and I have lost 29 lbs. The one thing I can say with certainty is that while I would not like to see any of those 29 lbs again, I will. Just putting solids in my system will put some weight on. I can live with that. But I would like to continue the downward trend. My hope is that I have reset my system enough that I can continue to mainain the way I have been feeling, continue the weighloss and stay in my smaller jeans. In the past, I have done well coming off my juice fasts. I'd put about 5 lbs back on. But when I went back on dairy, I lost all control. The weight came flying back on, and there was no stopping it. Nothing felt good, and I was depressed. Or at the very least, stuck in a rut. I don't want to go back there.
It would be a lie to say that I'm not looking forward to eating again. I am. I really am. Food will be new and exciting all over again. This time, I hope that I listen to my body, and give it what it needs to stay healthy. Your body does its very best to communicate what makes it happy and healthy. We all just need to listen more closely.
PS
Johnny is still in his first 6 weeks of chemo. He's been taking his medicine like a champ, and has only gotten sick to his stomach once. (A known side-effect.) We go back to Boston on Friday the 13th to see if it's starting to have an effect on him. Fingers crossed!!!
I've never needed one as there has never been any chance my pants would fall down. There was enough of me for my pants to hold on to, and sometimes, there was more than enough. So, I can say with certainty, that it's been years since I've worn a belt. Until today . . .
I am wearing a belt with my smallest jeans. I am 4 days from my goal, and I have lost 29 lbs. The one thing I can say with certainty is that while I would not like to see any of those 29 lbs again, I will. Just putting solids in my system will put some weight on. I can live with that. But I would like to continue the downward trend. My hope is that I have reset my system enough that I can continue to mainain the way I have been feeling, continue the weighloss and stay in my smaller jeans. In the past, I have done well coming off my juice fasts. I'd put about 5 lbs back on. But when I went back on dairy, I lost all control. The weight came flying back on, and there was no stopping it. Nothing felt good, and I was depressed. Or at the very least, stuck in a rut. I don't want to go back there.
It would be a lie to say that I'm not looking forward to eating again. I am. I really am. Food will be new and exciting all over again. This time, I hope that I listen to my body, and give it what it needs to stay healthy. Your body does its very best to communicate what makes it happy and healthy. We all just need to listen more closely.
PS
Johnny is still in his first 6 weeks of chemo. He's been taking his medicine like a champ, and has only gotten sick to his stomach once. (A known side-effect.) We go back to Boston on Friday the 13th to see if it's starting to have an effect on him. Fingers crossed!!!
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
The Center Seat
For anyone who has traveled on the NYC subway system, you will know that the least coveted seat is the center seat. Wedged between two strangers, your experience can vary from being a pillow for a sleepy traveler, being elbowed between the Times and the Post, having your olfactory senses assaulted or just a ride on the subway. The possibilities are truly endless. And it sure beats standing. But the center seats go last, and if your train is crowded, it may be the only option you have of sitting down . . . if you can fit.
There comes a point when you're gaining weight that you don't even see center seats anymore. It's not really a seat at least. It's just some sliver of orange between two seated people. It couldn't possibly have been meant for a whole person!?! I remember someone telling me that our train cars were purchased in Japan, and they were designed for smaller people. (Yeah, and there are alligators in the sewers too.) One day, as a traveler tried to take that leftover sliver of orange, he fell onto my friends lap, and began to public berate her for being too fat. Though she was sitting there minding her own business, it was suddenly her fault he had no balance. Whatever happened to "Excuse me!"?
I think that story has always stuck in my mind because it frightens me. As a kid, I was teased all the time for my weight. As an adult, even in my thinner phases, I've received comments from strangers that were more than unkind and unnecessary. So, the idea of the center seat -- horrifying. Until now.
I fit, comfortably in the center seat again. It's not spacious. But it's not spacious unless you're under 9 years old. Once your feet can touch the floor, it's over. I can sit without feeling like the person next to me is going to pout and get all bent out of shape about it. It may be a silly thing to get excited over, but who cares!?! It's mine and I will have it! Next week, I start riding my bike to work again, so let me enjoy this while it lasts!
41 days. 26.5 lbs. 9 days to go. It has been an epic journey. My friends have been so supportive, and I love you all dearly. Thank you for letting me be melodramatic, and thank you for always being there.
No man is a failure who has friends.
There comes a point when you're gaining weight that you don't even see center seats anymore. It's not really a seat at least. It's just some sliver of orange between two seated people. It couldn't possibly have been meant for a whole person!?! I remember someone telling me that our train cars were purchased in Japan, and they were designed for smaller people. (Yeah, and there are alligators in the sewers too.) One day, as a traveler tried to take that leftover sliver of orange, he fell onto my friends lap, and began to public berate her for being too fat. Though she was sitting there minding her own business, it was suddenly her fault he had no balance. Whatever happened to "Excuse me!"?
I think that story has always stuck in my mind because it frightens me. As a kid, I was teased all the time for my weight. As an adult, even in my thinner phases, I've received comments from strangers that were more than unkind and unnecessary. So, the idea of the center seat -- horrifying. Until now.
I fit, comfortably in the center seat again. It's not spacious. But it's not spacious unless you're under 9 years old. Once your feet can touch the floor, it's over. I can sit without feeling like the person next to me is going to pout and get all bent out of shape about it. It may be a silly thing to get excited over, but who cares!?! It's mine and I will have it! Next week, I start riding my bike to work again, so let me enjoy this while it lasts!
41 days. 26.5 lbs. 9 days to go. It has been an epic journey. My friends have been so supportive, and I love you all dearly. Thank you for letting me be melodramatic, and thank you for always being there.
No man is a failure who has friends.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Dehydration . . .
This may sound ridiculous . . . but I actually got dehydrated. I didn't think it was possible either, but I managed it.
I know . . . I've been in a funk as of late. Apparently melodrama is overrated. What can I say? It's been the worst couple of months. Worse than I could ever imagine -- and the juice cleanse had nothing to do with. In all honesty, I think if it weren't for the juice cleanse I would not have gotten out of bed for a few weeks.
But I am on the home stretch -- the point where you start thinking about food again. I wanted fried clams yesterday. I haven't had fried clams in 25 years. But Kelley's fried clams, and fries, AND onion rings sounded really good to me. No, I would not eat them even if you put them in front of me even when I get off the fast -- well, maybe the fries, but definitely not the clams. Peanut butter on whole wheat toast may be all I need. Followed by a nap so my body can process it. Or Indian food . . . mmm . . . Indian food.
Okay -- that was enough of that. This is only day 38, and while the end is nigh, it ain't that nigh.
So far, I have lost 25.5 lbs. My BMI has gone from 28.9, or 1.1 away from obesity, to 24.9 which is the top end of normal weight for my height. Who knew that when I woke up this morning, I would be normal? I am in the 38th percentile, meaning that 52 % of people have a higher BMI than I. I started running again this morning in preparation for a 5k in three weeks -- I've procrastinated worse than that before. I did a little over a 5k this morning with no issues other than being very slow. Attending yoga a few times a week, and hitting Zumba, Hip Hop (by accident -- so not graceful), Beach Body (class almost killed me -- it was like going to boot camp for lunch), I hope will have me in shape to start riding my bike to work next week. Manhattan Bridge, here I come!
I would like to say that I am happy with my body now, but I can't. I do feel much, much better, and feel much better about how I look in clothes. But I can't be the only one who always wants to be thinner, can I? You get to a certain point, and feel like if only I could lose 20 more or 10 more lbs, then I would be "happy". I weighed 149 in grad school, but always wanted to be 135. I have never weighed 135 in my life, except on the way up during adolescence. I have no idea what it would be like to weigh that much or what I would even look like -- but that number has been stuck in my head for a decade. Would 135 make me "happy"? No, but accepting myself where I am might.
I know . . . I've been in a funk as of late. Apparently melodrama is overrated. What can I say? It's been the worst couple of months. Worse than I could ever imagine -- and the juice cleanse had nothing to do with. In all honesty, I think if it weren't for the juice cleanse I would not have gotten out of bed for a few weeks.
But I am on the home stretch -- the point where you start thinking about food again. I wanted fried clams yesterday. I haven't had fried clams in 25 years. But Kelley's fried clams, and fries, AND onion rings sounded really good to me. No, I would not eat them even if you put them in front of me even when I get off the fast -- well, maybe the fries, but definitely not the clams. Peanut butter on whole wheat toast may be all I need. Followed by a nap so my body can process it. Or Indian food . . . mmm . . . Indian food.
Okay -- that was enough of that. This is only day 38, and while the end is nigh, it ain't that nigh.
So far, I have lost 25.5 lbs. My BMI has gone from 28.9, or 1.1 away from obesity, to 24.9 which is the top end of normal weight for my height. Who knew that when I woke up this morning, I would be normal? I am in the 38th percentile, meaning that 52 % of people have a higher BMI than I. I started running again this morning in preparation for a 5k in three weeks -- I've procrastinated worse than that before. I did a little over a 5k this morning with no issues other than being very slow. Attending yoga a few times a week, and hitting Zumba, Hip Hop (by accident -- so not graceful), Beach Body (class almost killed me -- it was like going to boot camp for lunch), I hope will have me in shape to start riding my bike to work next week. Manhattan Bridge, here I come!
I would like to say that I am happy with my body now, but I can't. I do feel much, much better, and feel much better about how I look in clothes. But I can't be the only one who always wants to be thinner, can I? You get to a certain point, and feel like if only I could lose 20 more or 10 more lbs, then I would be "happy". I weighed 149 in grad school, but always wanted to be 135. I have never weighed 135 in my life, except on the way up during adolescence. I have no idea what it would be like to weigh that much or what I would even look like -- but that number has been stuck in my head for a decade. Would 135 make me "happy"? No, but accepting myself where I am might.
Friday, March 16, 2012
29!
Okay . . . I'm definitely not 29 again. But today is day 29.
I've definitely been away from the blog for a while. I have found it hard to write, as I'm finding it hard to open up.
I started the blog to let people know what it was like going through your day-to-day life on a juice fast. But we can't control what life is going to deal us during that time, and in little less than a month my world had turned upside-down. I can't remember any point in my life that has been so hard -- so much at once, and all bad. I jump when I hear the phone - but the call is never who I'm waiting for. I used to turn my ringer off at night, but now my phone is on constantly . . . waiting. I don't know how I got here.
Johnny seems to be reacting well to the medication -- well, that is to say, he doesn't show any side-effects. He'll have a blood test on Monday, and then back up to Angell in a few weeks to see if he's getting any benefit from the drug. Maybe in a few weeks, something will actually look brighter.
I have been faithful to the juice. But to be honest, somedays I find it hard to have anything at all. I'll go through the process of making 32 oz of juice, but it will take me almost 2 days to get it down. My guess is that my weightloss will not be typical. I'm down a little over 20 lbs now, and can get into most of my "thinner" clothes already. Normally, I would be thrilled, espcially where I have another 21 days to go. But time has not been kind, and I'm afraid fo what the next 3 weeks could hold. I'm emotionally very tired.
I have been going to the gym steadily. Distraction, distraction, distraction. I'll get dizzy occasionally, but nothing major. It's just like the feeling you get if you stand-up too quickly. I'll pause for a moment and it will pass quickly. I did leave one class early -- it was just extreme intense, and I didn't have my heart in it. I needed the shower more. But I did realize that I have reached the point in the fast where I need to avoid extreme heat. It knocks my right out.
This post isn't what I had hoped. I'm normally more amusing. I hope. I sometimes spew a bunch of facts. This is the post where you can see Tinkerbell's light fading. The only thing that could save her was the love of others. Everyone had to pull for her. Please, I would never ask this, especially of stangers, but please cross your fingers for me now. Maybe if you all think of me for just a moment, I can have my wish and life will be happy again.
Peter Pan was always my favorite story -- except I could never understand why Wendy left. If I were Wendy, I would have stayed.
I've definitely been away from the blog for a while. I have found it hard to write, as I'm finding it hard to open up.
I started the blog to let people know what it was like going through your day-to-day life on a juice fast. But we can't control what life is going to deal us during that time, and in little less than a month my world had turned upside-down. I can't remember any point in my life that has been so hard -- so much at once, and all bad. I jump when I hear the phone - but the call is never who I'm waiting for. I used to turn my ringer off at night, but now my phone is on constantly . . . waiting. I don't know how I got here.
Johnny seems to be reacting well to the medication -- well, that is to say, he doesn't show any side-effects. He'll have a blood test on Monday, and then back up to Angell in a few weeks to see if he's getting any benefit from the drug. Maybe in a few weeks, something will actually look brighter.
I have been faithful to the juice. But to be honest, somedays I find it hard to have anything at all. I'll go through the process of making 32 oz of juice, but it will take me almost 2 days to get it down. My guess is that my weightloss will not be typical. I'm down a little over 20 lbs now, and can get into most of my "thinner" clothes already. Normally, I would be thrilled, espcially where I have another 21 days to go. But time has not been kind, and I'm afraid fo what the next 3 weeks could hold. I'm emotionally very tired.
I have been going to the gym steadily. Distraction, distraction, distraction. I'll get dizzy occasionally, but nothing major. It's just like the feeling you get if you stand-up too quickly. I'll pause for a moment and it will pass quickly. I did leave one class early -- it was just extreme intense, and I didn't have my heart in it. I needed the shower more. But I did realize that I have reached the point in the fast where I need to avoid extreme heat. It knocks my right out.
This post isn't what I had hoped. I'm normally more amusing. I hope. I sometimes spew a bunch of facts. This is the post where you can see Tinkerbell's light fading. The only thing that could save her was the love of others. Everyone had to pull for her. Please, I would never ask this, especially of stangers, but please cross your fingers for me now. Maybe if you all think of me for just a moment, I can have my wish and life will be happy again.
Peter Pan was always my favorite story -- except I could never understand why Wendy left. If I were Wendy, I would have stayed.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Picking Up Steam!
From virtually immobile to gym rat in a week . . . okay, maybe I'm not at the gym that much, but from not at all to four times a week is a significant increase. I have been doing everything from yoga to spin to zumba and it feels great. If I'm under-performing, it is not due to the juice diet, but due to not getting my butt to the gym for two months.This week I'll start running in anticipation of a 5k in April. Since one of my last runs was half marathon in October, I've got to get moving again!
Johnny has started chemo this week. He gets one pill every other day, and half a Pecid AC daily. He is currently residing with my parents as my car broke down on my way to Boston, and you cannot travel with a non-service animal on a bus or Amtrak. He's happily over-eating, and sleeping in the sun on the porch.
I would like to say that things in my life are back on track, but there seems to be bigger challenges around every corner. Everyone goes through rough patches. I get that. But I could really use something working in my favor. Just one area of my life that doesn't feel like a complete and utter disaster that I don't know how to fix. I really cannot keep up with it all. But being on a juice diet doesn't play into it at all. I don't miss comfort food, and I don't miss drowning my sorrows in a bottle of wine. All valid choices in their own way, but just not where I'm at at the moment.
My heart aches . . .
Johnny has started chemo this week. He gets one pill every other day, and half a Pecid AC daily. He is currently residing with my parents as my car broke down on my way to Boston, and you cannot travel with a non-service animal on a bus or Amtrak. He's happily over-eating, and sleeping in the sun on the porch.
I would like to say that things in my life are back on track, but there seems to be bigger challenges around every corner. Everyone goes through rough patches. I get that. But I could really use something working in my favor. Just one area of my life that doesn't feel like a complete and utter disaster that I don't know how to fix. I really cannot keep up with it all. But being on a juice diet doesn't play into it at all. I don't miss comfort food, and I don't miss drowning my sorrows in a bottle of wine. All valid choices in their own way, but just not where I'm at at the moment.
My heart aches . . .
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Tomorrow is Another Day . . .
But I'm not headed to Tara. I'm headed to Boston to see an oncologist.
I've started Johnny on some holistic treatments, and tomorrow we go to Angell Memorial to start chemo. It will only be 2 pills/day. One is the chemo, and the other will be to settle his stomach from the chemo. Piladia was a drug designed to treat skin cancer in dogs. They have found it to be effective in only 30% of cats for squamous cell carcinoma, and the oncologist has only seen it work once. She herself has lost 3 cats to this disease; 3 of 6. But we're hoping Johnny is a good candidate for this treatment.
I have been cooking up a storm this week. I acutally haven't had a problem cooking for the BF. In someways, it makes dnner time easier because I'm not making two dinners. Before he moved in, I would be happy calling some hummus and Wasa crackers dinner. I never made myself a meal. I'd get home from work and wouldn't feel up to it. But now that there's two of us, dinner is more of an event. We get to share our days over dinner, so it's become something I look forward to at the end of the day.
The juicing gets easier, but the temptation doesn't go away. Watching science fiction helps because for some reason those people never eat. Everyone else hangs out in a bar, restaurant, coffee shop and that doesn't even count the cooking shows. Have we nothing better to do with our air time than watch other people eat!?! And forget the Waltons -- those people are always eating, or drinking The Recipe!
Day 16 - down 12.5 lbs
I've started Johnny on some holistic treatments, and tomorrow we go to Angell Memorial to start chemo. It will only be 2 pills/day. One is the chemo, and the other will be to settle his stomach from the chemo. Piladia was a drug designed to treat skin cancer in dogs. They have found it to be effective in only 30% of cats for squamous cell carcinoma, and the oncologist has only seen it work once. She herself has lost 3 cats to this disease; 3 of 6. But we're hoping Johnny is a good candidate for this treatment.
I have been cooking up a storm this week. I acutally haven't had a problem cooking for the BF. In someways, it makes dnner time easier because I'm not making two dinners. Before he moved in, I would be happy calling some hummus and Wasa crackers dinner. I never made myself a meal. I'd get home from work and wouldn't feel up to it. But now that there's two of us, dinner is more of an event. We get to share our days over dinner, so it's become something I look forward to at the end of the day.
The juicing gets easier, but the temptation doesn't go away. Watching science fiction helps because for some reason those people never eat. Everyone else hangs out in a bar, restaurant, coffee shop and that doesn't even count the cooking shows. Have we nothing better to do with our air time than watch other people eat!?! And forget the Waltons -- those people are always eating, or drinking The Recipe!
Day 16 - down 12.5 lbs
Monday, February 27, 2012
This Would Be a Breeze If I Didn't Have to Go to Work!
I'm sure I could say that about a lot of things.
I find juicing to be much harder during the work week. It's not the social interaction at work that pushes my buttons. It's not the varying scents of people's lunches that are a distraction. Every once in a while I would love peole to stop by my desk with food just so I could smell it. (Yes, Malini, I have reached that point.) What may be driving me nuts is that I never leave the office. I have no reason to. I bring my juice with me. I don't step out for coffee. I haven't been able to break free to go to the gym. So my entire day is now spent in front of this screen.
And what do I start to do if I'm staring at the computer too long? I look up recipes I want to make when I'm eating again. Considering it's Day 11, checking out recipes is more than a little premature, and definitely a little questionable. I have no problem going home and making the BF dinner because I don't eat meat ever, but making him a side dish is torture. Tomorrow my regular routine begins again, as the BF is back, so coffee, bacon, eggs, bagels . . . I'm drooling right now.
I always wondered how March got it's name, but now it seems painfully clear. February hasn't been bad, and April will be easy, but it's the long march through March that is going to be killer.
I find juicing to be much harder during the work week. It's not the social interaction at work that pushes my buttons. It's not the varying scents of people's lunches that are a distraction. Every once in a while I would love peole to stop by my desk with food just so I could smell it. (Yes, Malini, I have reached that point.) What may be driving me nuts is that I never leave the office. I have no reason to. I bring my juice with me. I don't step out for coffee. I haven't been able to break free to go to the gym. So my entire day is now spent in front of this screen.
And what do I start to do if I'm staring at the computer too long? I look up recipes I want to make when I'm eating again. Considering it's Day 11, checking out recipes is more than a little premature, and definitely a little questionable. I have no problem going home and making the BF dinner because I don't eat meat ever, but making him a side dish is torture. Tomorrow my regular routine begins again, as the BF is back, so coffee, bacon, eggs, bagels . . . I'm drooling right now.
I always wondered how March got it's name, but now it seems painfully clear. February hasn't been bad, and April will be easy, but it's the long march through March that is going to be killer.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Motivation . . .
Newton's first law of motion may be the most important:
First law: The velocity of a body remains constant unless the body is acted upon by an external force.
And since my body is not in motion, my mind needs to act upon it to put it in motion. I could wait for a flood or fire but that seems a bit extreme. I can procrastinate like nobody's business. When it comes to remaining still, I have it down to a science. When I first moved, I didn't want a TV because I have a tendency to get sucked in. Really sucked in. And Netflix doesn't help. Lord knows how many SG-1 episodes I can watch this weekend if left to my own devices, and I really need to be painting my kitchen.
But it's not just about avoiding chores. I like exercise, but I avoid it like the plague. If I'm getting up everyday and running, then I will do it everyday. But when I'm not running, I need an electric jolt to get me off my ass. Does anyone else have this problem? That a body at rest tends to stay at rest?
What my body is missing is balance! I need to incorporate equal parts of rest and motion. If I can find the balance, and not excess in any one area, perhaps it will become easier to maintain. How do I reboot that system? Is it merely motivation? It can't be. I have plenty of motivation. Does it need to be dire? Heightened? Or is it merely a sign of depression, seasonal or otherwise?
I thought my diet had been the biggest part of my inactivity. It has been true in the past. When I eat processed foods, I slow down. It is as much a drug an benedryl. So am I still waiting for the side effects to subside?
First law: The velocity of a body remains constant unless the body is acted upon by an external force.
And since my body is not in motion, my mind needs to act upon it to put it in motion. I could wait for a flood or fire but that seems a bit extreme. I can procrastinate like nobody's business. When it comes to remaining still, I have it down to a science. When I first moved, I didn't want a TV because I have a tendency to get sucked in. Really sucked in. And Netflix doesn't help. Lord knows how many SG-1 episodes I can watch this weekend if left to my own devices, and I really need to be painting my kitchen.
But it's not just about avoiding chores. I like exercise, but I avoid it like the plague. If I'm getting up everyday and running, then I will do it everyday. But when I'm not running, I need an electric jolt to get me off my ass. Does anyone else have this problem? That a body at rest tends to stay at rest?
What my body is missing is balance! I need to incorporate equal parts of rest and motion. If I can find the balance, and not excess in any one area, perhaps it will become easier to maintain. How do I reboot that system? Is it merely motivation? It can't be. I have plenty of motivation. Does it need to be dire? Heightened? Or is it merely a sign of depression, seasonal or otherwise?
I thought my diet had been the biggest part of my inactivity. It has been true in the past. When I eat processed foods, I slow down. It is as much a drug an benedryl. So am I still waiting for the side effects to subside?
Saturday, February 25, 2012
50 Days is Over 7 Weeks
Not a very profound statement. When you think of 7 weeks leading up to Christmas or a vacation, it might be an eternity. When it's studying for the Bar Exam, it may be the blink of an eye.
Yesterday, I was told my cat, Johnny has 12 - 16 weeks to live. That doesn't seem like very much at all does it? It makes my 7 weeks feel like the blink of an eye. He has a squamous cell carcinoma on the left side of his lower jaw. Even if it remains localized, the tumor will eventually grow large enough and put him in so much pain he will stop eating. The cancer wil not kill him outright. It will just prevent him from eating and drinking enough to stay alive. I just went through this with my older cat, Henry last month. Henry fought this disease in a way I didn't think an animal could. He was still trying to eat up to the end. He never gave in.
Johnny is a lover, not a fighter. Henry was known for attacking Rotweillers. John-John is known for liking his bum spanked and liking women with long hair. Henry was 5 years when I brought home a kitten the week that JFK Jr.'s plane went missing. John-John became Henry's shadow. Neally, the now lone female, was not pleased, not one bit. Poor Neally. She was pissed. And let everyone know it. But the boys were now inseparable. And I knew when Henry died, that Johnny would take it particularly hard. On the last day, I told Johnny that he needed to come say good-bye, and he completely understood. He got up, walked into the living room, hopped up on the sofa next to Henry and head-butted him three times.
I thought there would be years before I had to face losing Johnny. Then last week, sitting on the sofa patting Johnny, I felt a lump. "What are the odds?" I thought. How do two cats not of the same litter years apart in age develop the same disease months apart in the same household? I felt like I have been somehow killing them. That I must have exposed them to something unknowingly. But, 32 percent of all cats over the the age of 10 will die from cancer, and 10 percent will die from this type of cancer. 32%!!! (Dogs are worse -- 50% of dogs over 10 develop cancer.) Johnny was one of a litter of four, and is the second to develop cancer.
If there is something doctors can do for him without making his remaing days a misery, then we'll try it. I'll try wheatgrass juice and rednop tea. Johnny and I can be on the juice together. Don't worry -- Johnny isn't going vegetarian. He'll still get as much food as I can get into him. I will do everything I can possibly do for him.
Yesterday, I was told my cat, Johnny has 12 - 16 weeks to live. That doesn't seem like very much at all does it? It makes my 7 weeks feel like the blink of an eye. He has a squamous cell carcinoma on the left side of his lower jaw. Even if it remains localized, the tumor will eventually grow large enough and put him in so much pain he will stop eating. The cancer wil not kill him outright. It will just prevent him from eating and drinking enough to stay alive. I just went through this with my older cat, Henry last month. Henry fought this disease in a way I didn't think an animal could. He was still trying to eat up to the end. He never gave in.
Johnny is a lover, not a fighter. Henry was known for attacking Rotweillers. John-John is known for liking his bum spanked and liking women with long hair. Henry was 5 years when I brought home a kitten the week that JFK Jr.'s plane went missing. John-John became Henry's shadow. Neally, the now lone female, was not pleased, not one bit. Poor Neally. She was pissed. And let everyone know it. But the boys were now inseparable. And I knew when Henry died, that Johnny would take it particularly hard. On the last day, I told Johnny that he needed to come say good-bye, and he completely understood. He got up, walked into the living room, hopped up on the sofa next to Henry and head-butted him three times.
I thought there would be years before I had to face losing Johnny. Then last week, sitting on the sofa patting Johnny, I felt a lump. "What are the odds?" I thought. How do two cats not of the same litter years apart in age develop the same disease months apart in the same household? I felt like I have been somehow killing them. That I must have exposed them to something unknowingly. But, 32 percent of all cats over the the age of 10 will die from cancer, and 10 percent will die from this type of cancer. 32%!!! (Dogs are worse -- 50% of dogs over 10 develop cancer.) Johnny was one of a litter of four, and is the second to develop cancer.
If there is something doctors can do for him without making his remaing days a misery, then we'll try it. I'll try wheatgrass juice and rednop tea. Johnny and I can be on the juice together. Don't worry -- Johnny isn't going vegetarian. He'll still get as much food as I can get into him. I will do everything I can possibly do for him.
Daily Breakdown: Tuesday
JuicesConsumed: Kale/Orange/Cantaloupe/Carrot/Banana/Celery/Pineapple; Kale/Orange/Cantaloupe/Carrot/Banana/Asparugus/Pineapple; Lemon Zinger Tea
Weight Loss: .5 lb (Juice Feast Total: 8 lbs)
Bodily Functions: Normal
Weight Loss: .5 lb (Juice Feast Total: 8 lbs)
Bodily Functions: Normal
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
From "Oh what a beautiful morning!" to the Serenity Prayer
Okay, okay, maybe I have less patience when I'm juicing. But I'm not 100% sure that I'm not always this way. Am I easily annoyed, impatient and critical?
Don't answer that!
Maybe the difference is when I'm juice fasting I hold back so no one thinks it's the fast. And maybe I spend too much time listening to the voices in my head.
Just a thought.
I made extra juice last night and bottled it. It made this morning returning to work in the office much easier. Let's face it, cleaning the juicer properly can be a pain in the butt. And when I make juice I know it's going to take me 30 minutes from cutting to juicing to cleaning to finally drinking. When I'm juicing this much, the juicer is either in use or on the drainboard. It is never sitting neatly assembled on my counter waiting for me to use it. My only good habit it to clean the juicer immediately before I even have a sip. I prefer a masticating juicer. It's great for greens, and I stand a slightly better chance of not painting my walls when I use it. (I finally painted over that beet juice incident from last year.) But I am starting to understand why people will pay so much to have their juice made for them.
Companies have gotten on the juice cleanse bandwagon and charge big money to deliver ready made juices to your home or office. A 3-day BluePrint Cleanse will cost more than buying a good juicer. Sure, they've done their research and put together the perfect combination of juices for you, and all you have to do is drink. If you only do 3 days every so often, then maybe it makes sense. It just seems to be as genius a business proposition as bottling water. Everyone buys bottled water. Naked juices can run $4-$5 each at the deli, so why wouldn't a plan for a few days run a couple of hundred dollars?
Seriously?
Because I have a solid reliable juicer, I can juice for a few dollars a day. I may shop more often, but I spend less than typical meals. Juicers can be expensive -- or you can use credit card points as I did when I bought my mother's -- but they're deifintely a sound investment. If worse comes to worst, you'll at least have a much easier time making lime juice for margaritas. So Kale Cosmos aren't going to be catching on anytime soon. Health inspired cocktails have been climbing the charts for years.
I'm having a hard time focusing, aren't I?
I thought so too.
I think it's time to make more juice!
Don't answer that!
Maybe the difference is when I'm juice fasting I hold back so no one thinks it's the fast. And maybe I spend too much time listening to the voices in my head.
Just a thought.
I made extra juice last night and bottled it. It made this morning returning to work in the office much easier. Let's face it, cleaning the juicer properly can be a pain in the butt. And when I make juice I know it's going to take me 30 minutes from cutting to juicing to cleaning to finally drinking. When I'm juicing this much, the juicer is either in use or on the drainboard. It is never sitting neatly assembled on my counter waiting for me to use it. My only good habit it to clean the juicer immediately before I even have a sip. I prefer a masticating juicer. It's great for greens, and I stand a slightly better chance of not painting my walls when I use it. (I finally painted over that beet juice incident from last year.) But I am starting to understand why people will pay so much to have their juice made for them.
Companies have gotten on the juice cleanse bandwagon and charge big money to deliver ready made juices to your home or office. A 3-day BluePrint Cleanse will cost more than buying a good juicer. Sure, they've done their research and put together the perfect combination of juices for you, and all you have to do is drink. If you only do 3 days every so often, then maybe it makes sense. It just seems to be as genius a business proposition as bottling water. Everyone buys bottled water. Naked juices can run $4-$5 each at the deli, so why wouldn't a plan for a few days run a couple of hundred dollars?
Seriously?
Because I have a solid reliable juicer, I can juice for a few dollars a day. I may shop more often, but I spend less than typical meals. Juicers can be expensive -- or you can use credit card points as I did when I bought my mother's -- but they're deifintely a sound investment. If worse comes to worst, you'll at least have a much easier time making lime juice for margaritas. So Kale Cosmos aren't going to be catching on anytime soon. Health inspired cocktails have been climbing the charts for years.
I'm having a hard time focusing, aren't I?
I thought so too.
I think it's time to make more juice!
Daily Breakdown: Tuesday
JuicesConsumed: (Kale/Carrot/Pear/Orange/Banana/Ginger/Papaya/Pineapple) x 2
Weight Loss: 1 lb (Juice Feast Total: 6 lbs)
Bodily Functions: Not very active
Bodily Functions: Not very active
Exercise: I'll get back to you on that . . .
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
1/10 of the way there . . .
Either this juicing thing gets easier, or my life is such a hot mess right now that getting over coffee, booze and food seems realy simple.
The first year, the first five days was HARD. The second year, the first five days was difficult. Year three, day one was rough, but it really has gotten easier. I really don't miss anything. Isn't that odd?
This morning before I had time for juice I did a load of laundry, took my kitty to his biopsy appointment and made my BF bacon and eggs. His espresso smelled great as did the bacon, but the food didn't really interest me. No one could have been more shocked than I. I've been a vegetarian for 25 years, but bacon always smells great. Yet this morning, I wasn't hungered by it. I was just glad to have a little less in the refrigerator.
The true challenge will be maintaining my social calendar. Okay . . . I don't have much of a social calendar, but I'm not a hermit either. In 50 days, I will get to go out for "dinner", meet for "coffee", and there will undoubtedly be the occasional "Happy Hour". So much of our social interaction revolves around food and drink. My first year, I had a friend kindly agree to meet for wheatgrass shots. Think of it as green espresso. There are a couple of my dearest friends who's birthdays fall during my fast, and luckily they have not been insulted by my refraining from toasting their health and long life. (I believe they may think I'm insane, so that allows me to be odd.)
The only part that becomes difficult is being a topic of conversation. I do feel like a sideshow attraction sometimes. "This is my friend who doesn't eat." "Are you really just drinking juice?" "Are you trying to kill yourself?" The reactions swing from pole to pole. What I find fascinating though is in a culture that will allow you to eat outrageous portions of chemcally altered, artificially engineered, genetically modified foods, people can get so upset about drinking juice for over a month. Pizza has been named a vegetable and what I'm doing is crazy!?!
The first year, the first five days was HARD. The second year, the first five days was difficult. Year three, day one was rough, but it really has gotten easier. I really don't miss anything. Isn't that odd?
This morning before I had time for juice I did a load of laundry, took my kitty to his biopsy appointment and made my BF bacon and eggs. His espresso smelled great as did the bacon, but the food didn't really interest me. No one could have been more shocked than I. I've been a vegetarian for 25 years, but bacon always smells great. Yet this morning, I wasn't hungered by it. I was just glad to have a little less in the refrigerator.
The true challenge will be maintaining my social calendar. Okay . . . I don't have much of a social calendar, but I'm not a hermit either. In 50 days, I will get to go out for "dinner", meet for "coffee", and there will undoubtedly be the occasional "Happy Hour". So much of our social interaction revolves around food and drink. My first year, I had a friend kindly agree to meet for wheatgrass shots. Think of it as green espresso. There are a couple of my dearest friends who's birthdays fall during my fast, and luckily they have not been insulted by my refraining from toasting their health and long life. (I believe they may think I'm insane, so that allows me to be odd.)
The only part that becomes difficult is being a topic of conversation. I do feel like a sideshow attraction sometimes. "This is my friend who doesn't eat." "Are you really just drinking juice?" "Are you trying to kill yourself?" The reactions swing from pole to pole. What I find fascinating though is in a culture that will allow you to eat outrageous portions of chemcally altered, artificially engineered, genetically modified foods, people can get so upset about drinking juice for over a month. Pizza has been named a vegetable and what I'm doing is crazy!?!
Daily Breakdown: Monday
JuicesConsumed: (Kale/Carrot/Pear/Orange/Banana/Ginger/Papaya/Pineapple) x 2
Weight Loss: .5 lb (Juice Feast Total: 5 lbs)
Bodily Functions: Not very active
Bodily Functions: Not very active
Exercise: Laundry -- what!?! What would you call it?
Sunday, February 19, 2012
One Day at a Time . . .
Either I'm referring to that Valerie Bertinelli sitcom or my statement is followed by "Sweet Jesus". I think either could apply to today.
As TJ commented on my first blog of this round, I'm not hungry. My body doesn't mind juicing in that sense. I do feel like I need fuel at certain points in the day, and the juice definitely satisfies that. But someone needs to remind my mind that I'm not eating.
My mind associates certain foods with certain situations. At work on Friday, my mind wanted to remind me to get a handful of pretzels every time I walked past the kitchen. "No, I don't do that anymore." I got up this morning to take my kitty to the vet, and as I walked around the corner in my old neighborhood I thought, "Oh, I'll grab a coffee and a bagel." A coffee and a bagel were always the reward for getting up early and going to the vet. I used to associate grilled cheese sandwiches with my grandmother -- to the point where, when she died, and someone offered me a grilled cheese sandwich, I broke down in tears. Irish coffees make me think of living in Jamaica Plain. Blue potato chips make me think of . . . well that story just isn't any of your business.
Comfort food is more than food rich in butter and fat. Comfort food is whatever your mind finds comforting. And right now, it is harder to quiet my mind than it is my body. It's the angel on one shoulder, devil on the other scenario. My body is fine with green juice but my mind is telling me to order Chinese. The irony is that no matter how aware I've become of what is good for me, and no matter how much my body agrees, my mind is always parading my bad choices in front of me. I have never thought of myself as food obsessed, but when I strip it all away and look at my habits I start to wonder if food is my drug of choice.
Bodily Functions: Increased urination
As TJ commented on my first blog of this round, I'm not hungry. My body doesn't mind juicing in that sense. I do feel like I need fuel at certain points in the day, and the juice definitely satisfies that. But someone needs to remind my mind that I'm not eating.
My mind associates certain foods with certain situations. At work on Friday, my mind wanted to remind me to get a handful of pretzels every time I walked past the kitchen. "No, I don't do that anymore." I got up this morning to take my kitty to the vet, and as I walked around the corner in my old neighborhood I thought, "Oh, I'll grab a coffee and a bagel." A coffee and a bagel were always the reward for getting up early and going to the vet. I used to associate grilled cheese sandwiches with my grandmother -- to the point where, when she died, and someone offered me a grilled cheese sandwich, I broke down in tears. Irish coffees make me think of living in Jamaica Plain. Blue potato chips make me think of . . . well that story just isn't any of your business.
Comfort food is more than food rich in butter and fat. Comfort food is whatever your mind finds comforting. And right now, it is harder to quiet my mind than it is my body. It's the angel on one shoulder, devil on the other scenario. My body is fine with green juice but my mind is telling me to order Chinese. The irony is that no matter how aware I've become of what is good for me, and no matter how much my body agrees, my mind is always parading my bad choices in front of me. I have never thought of myself as food obsessed, but when I strip it all away and look at my habits I start to wonder if food is my drug of choice.
Daily Breakdown: Saturday
Juices Consumed: Lettuce/Cucumber/Tomato/Cranberries/Celery/Carrot/Apple/Lime/Banana/Ginger
Exercise: I'll get back to you on this one
Weight Loss: 2.5 lb (Juice Feast Total: 4.5 lbs)Bodily Functions: Increased urination
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Long Day's Journey . . .
Only once did I want to bite someone's head off at work yesterday. That may be a record on even the best of days. I do not suffer fools gladly, and striped of my vices . . .
But I made it home and promptly put myself to bed at 7 PM. Yeah. 7 PM on a Friday night in NYC. It was a public service. Had Mayor Bloomberg known of my plans I'm sure he would have declared a state of emergency -- he's been over-vigilant ever since that 2010 Christmas snowstorm. And I definitely had the potential to do more damage than the hurricane last season that had everything in NYC closed but came nowhere near us.
I can't say for a fact that I didn't snore last night, since the BF decided to ride out the storm in Jersey, but I know I didn't drool. Seriously, people, these are milestones. Every journey begins with a single step, and not waking having drooled on my pillow is definitely a step forward. Sure . . . weight could be a contributing factor, but I didn't drop that much overnight. I just need to own that I have a dairy allergy, and that my future is cheese-less.
As I began today's post, I checked in on Facebook and the news of the day in my microcosm. Shuffled between the baby pictures and posts on Whitney Houston was news about more friends being affected by cancer. Those of you who know me or have read this blog in the past, know that cancer started my journey with juicing. My mother was diagnosed with cancer just over 3 years ago. In addition to all of the treatments prescribed by doctors, I went looking for holistic remedies. I did my first juice fast hoping to get my mother to join me. I also started running. Two things that anyone who ever knew me would never associate with me. Last Fall, my mother made her first trip to Europe with me, and returned to continue her second round of chemo. Her last treatment for this round was just last week. Her numbers didn't drop quite as low as the first time around and she has never been officially in remission.
In 2007, Cancer was responsible for 13% of human deaths worldwide. 7.9 million people. Cancer does not discriminate, and does not care how much money you have. (Hospitals do -- but that's a subject for another day.) Cancer doesn't care if you're loved. It doesn't care if your needed. It doesn't care about the stress it puts on relationships, and it doesn't care if it breaks your heart. It doesn't care who it hurts.
My mother's cancer gives it's victims a 5 year life expectancy. Kathy Bates has the same disease and was diagnosed 9 years ago. My cat was diagnosed with cancer in October and was given 4 - 8 weeks at most. He lived for 12. Tomorrow, I take my younger cat to the vet for an unexplainded growth which I've suddenly noticed. Driving my aunt to a radiation treament a dozen years ago, she noticed my gloom and said, "Nicole, I have cancer. I'm not dying." I was amazed by her tone. And I still envy it. I have never found the definition of cancer that doesn't equal death sentence. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness permeates my life and makes me angry. I want to be able to fix things.
There are a few who beat it. Kathy Bates has been in remission for over 5 years. Dirk Bendict was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1974 and healed himself by following a macrobiotic diet, fasting and exercise. He followed the idea if you get out of your body's way, it can heal itself. Not such a bad notion. And it's what brought me to the juice fast. I can tell in one day, that I feel better without dairy -- so why do I ever eat it? It's really not rocket science. Ann Wigmore preached raw foods and wheatgrass, and people like Eydie Mae Hunsberger were cured. Well, cured isn't the right word. Eydie Mae learned that certain foods helped cancer to grow, and other foods discouraged it.
So, on day 2 of 50, I wonder what good my fast will do? As a kid, I would drink a two liter bottle of soda with a bag of chips and half dozen candy bars on an average Friday night watching The Dukes of Hazzard and Dallas. Decades later, I run half marathons, bike to work in the good weather and have really good cholesterol levels. Maybe I'm doing this just to prove it can be done, and there's good to be found in it; that healing can be active and not just passive; that change can be good and that sometimes the most valuable thing you can ever hold onto is hope.
But I made it home and promptly put myself to bed at 7 PM. Yeah. 7 PM on a Friday night in NYC. It was a public service. Had Mayor Bloomberg known of my plans I'm sure he would have declared a state of emergency -- he's been over-vigilant ever since that 2010 Christmas snowstorm. And I definitely had the potential to do more damage than the hurricane last season that had everything in NYC closed but came nowhere near us.
I can't say for a fact that I didn't snore last night, since the BF decided to ride out the storm in Jersey, but I know I didn't drool. Seriously, people, these are milestones. Every journey begins with a single step, and not waking having drooled on my pillow is definitely a step forward. Sure . . . weight could be a contributing factor, but I didn't drop that much overnight. I just need to own that I have a dairy allergy, and that my future is cheese-less.
As I began today's post, I checked in on Facebook and the news of the day in my microcosm. Shuffled between the baby pictures and posts on Whitney Houston was news about more friends being affected by cancer. Those of you who know me or have read this blog in the past, know that cancer started my journey with juicing. My mother was diagnosed with cancer just over 3 years ago. In addition to all of the treatments prescribed by doctors, I went looking for holistic remedies. I did my first juice fast hoping to get my mother to join me. I also started running. Two things that anyone who ever knew me would never associate with me. Last Fall, my mother made her first trip to Europe with me, and returned to continue her second round of chemo. Her last treatment for this round was just last week. Her numbers didn't drop quite as low as the first time around and she has never been officially in remission.
In 2007, Cancer was responsible for 13% of human deaths worldwide. 7.9 million people. Cancer does not discriminate, and does not care how much money you have. (Hospitals do -- but that's a subject for another day.) Cancer doesn't care if you're loved. It doesn't care if your needed. It doesn't care about the stress it puts on relationships, and it doesn't care if it breaks your heart. It doesn't care who it hurts.
My mother's cancer gives it's victims a 5 year life expectancy. Kathy Bates has the same disease and was diagnosed 9 years ago. My cat was diagnosed with cancer in October and was given 4 - 8 weeks at most. He lived for 12. Tomorrow, I take my younger cat to the vet for an unexplainded growth which I've suddenly noticed. Driving my aunt to a radiation treament a dozen years ago, she noticed my gloom and said, "Nicole, I have cancer. I'm not dying." I was amazed by her tone. And I still envy it. I have never found the definition of cancer that doesn't equal death sentence. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness permeates my life and makes me angry. I want to be able to fix things.
There are a few who beat it. Kathy Bates has been in remission for over 5 years. Dirk Bendict was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1974 and healed himself by following a macrobiotic diet, fasting and exercise. He followed the idea if you get out of your body's way, it can heal itself. Not such a bad notion. And it's what brought me to the juice fast. I can tell in one day, that I feel better without dairy -- so why do I ever eat it? It's really not rocket science. Ann Wigmore preached raw foods and wheatgrass, and people like Eydie Mae Hunsberger were cured. Well, cured isn't the right word. Eydie Mae learned that certain foods helped cancer to grow, and other foods discouraged it.
So, on day 2 of 50, I wonder what good my fast will do? As a kid, I would drink a two liter bottle of soda with a bag of chips and half dozen candy bars on an average Friday night watching The Dukes of Hazzard and Dallas. Decades later, I run half marathons, bike to work in the good weather and have really good cholesterol levels. Maybe I'm doing this just to prove it can be done, and there's good to be found in it; that healing can be active and not just passive; that change can be good and that sometimes the most valuable thing you can ever hold onto is hope.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Day One of Fifty
For those of you who have never tried this, the first few days of a juice fast you just spend every minute of the day reminding yourself not to eat anything. You see just how much you put in your mouth without even thinking about it. You witness what has become a habit that you may have never realized. (And those are the good moments -- the rest resembles Lindsay Lohan in rehab.)
During this blog I will discuss many things -- some you may want to skip over -- not everyone wants to know if I'm regular. But I will try to plug in the statistics at the bottom of the page.
This is not my first time around the juice bar. I've done 30 and 40 day juice fasts in the last 2 years, and have always felt much better for them. During that time, I was introduced to an article on Joe Cross in the NYT by my boyfriend who thought I would be interested in someone as crazy as myself. Joe had cameras follow him on his juice fast, and the resulting documentary is called Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead. Joe did an amazing 60 days. This is my third year, and I'm only doing 50. But the question is, "Can 50 days reverse 315 days of bad behavior?"
Last year, when I finished the fast, I found even vegan treats could be heavy. Heavy is not where it stopped. As I prepared for a trip to Italy, I started to incorporate dairy back into my diet. I put on 10 lbs before the trip. While in Italy, we ate and drank like kings, and I didn't put on a single pound. Then I returned, and thought I could still eat that way. And now, today I find myself a total 30 lbs heavier.
Beyond the feeling of self-loathing that comes with truly letting yourself go, certain foods just don't make me feel well. Don't get me wrong, I do not regret for one second the chocolate made with potato chips or the gelato I had late last night. Or the Dark & Stormy. But I do regret that my allergies have returned; that I don't sleep as well because with my allergies came my snoring and restlessness; that my clothes feel like sausage casings; and I do regret that my overall body image still has a bigger impact on my emotions and self-worth than I know it should. I was a fat kid, so regardless of whether or not I'll ever be that, proportionately, heavy again, I feel like that fat kid that no one picked for sides at recess. (A few years ago, at a reunion, a guy I once asked to a social hit on me. When he questioned why I wouldn't go for a drink with him, like his George Hamilton tan wasn't enough, I answered, "Because you were mean to me." Like the elephants we were called, we have long memories.)
So, this year, unlike last year, I will be going cold turkey on the following items:
Coffee / Tea (I will allow myself herbal tea from time to time)
Dairy (Alex, if you're reading this, I bequeath you my brie.)
Sugar
Processed foods
Alcohol
Oh, and yes, for the next 50 days, Any Type of Solid Food
At the end of this, I know I will incorporate some items back into my diet, but I am aiming to remain vegan. I have been a vegetarian for 25 years, and of that was successfully 100% vegan for about 18 months. Vegan is not easy outside the home. Taking your boyfriend to a raw food restaurant can be downright tragic. And having to hold a food inquisition becomes tiresome. But I cannot argue that I feel better as a vegan, that my skin is clearer, and my hair thicker. My next physical is scheduled for less than a week after I finish this fast, so I'll be able to update you on my overall health from a doctor's perspective.
I will be writing every day. I will have all of this extra time on my hands, so I'd better put it to good use. There will be a little venting, for sure, but I hope to keep this journal entertaining and informative. I will not be preaching on vegetarianism -- it was a choice I made many years ago, and am very passionate about it, but I am also a butcher's grand-daughter who grew up working in kitchens. I'm not meat-phobic. I don't want to eat it, but I won't stop you from eating it. (Though I will push the locally sourced, small farm variety.)
Here are a few statistics so that we're all starting on the same page:
Weight: 83.68 kilograms (I chose kg since I don't have an emotional attachment to that system of measure)
Height: 5'7"
Age: 40
Hair: Brown (yes, it's still growing that way which is the only reason I mention it.)
In 50 days, I'm guessing only one of these statistics will change, but we shall see . . .
During this blog I will discuss many things -- some you may want to skip over -- not everyone wants to know if I'm regular. But I will try to plug in the statistics at the bottom of the page.
This is not my first time around the juice bar. I've done 30 and 40 day juice fasts in the last 2 years, and have always felt much better for them. During that time, I was introduced to an article on Joe Cross in the NYT by my boyfriend who thought I would be interested in someone as crazy as myself. Joe had cameras follow him on his juice fast, and the resulting documentary is called Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead. Joe did an amazing 60 days. This is my third year, and I'm only doing 50. But the question is, "Can 50 days reverse 315 days of bad behavior?"
Last year, when I finished the fast, I found even vegan treats could be heavy. Heavy is not where it stopped. As I prepared for a trip to Italy, I started to incorporate dairy back into my diet. I put on 10 lbs before the trip. While in Italy, we ate and drank like kings, and I didn't put on a single pound. Then I returned, and thought I could still eat that way. And now, today I find myself a total 30 lbs heavier.
Beyond the feeling of self-loathing that comes with truly letting yourself go, certain foods just don't make me feel well. Don't get me wrong, I do not regret for one second the chocolate made with potato chips or the gelato I had late last night. Or the Dark & Stormy. But I do regret that my allergies have returned; that I don't sleep as well because with my allergies came my snoring and restlessness; that my clothes feel like sausage casings; and I do regret that my overall body image still has a bigger impact on my emotions and self-worth than I know it should. I was a fat kid, so regardless of whether or not I'll ever be that, proportionately, heavy again, I feel like that fat kid that no one picked for sides at recess. (A few years ago, at a reunion, a guy I once asked to a social hit on me. When he questioned why I wouldn't go for a drink with him, like his George Hamilton tan wasn't enough, I answered, "Because you were mean to me." Like the elephants we were called, we have long memories.)
So, this year, unlike last year, I will be going cold turkey on the following items:
Coffee / Tea (I will allow myself herbal tea from time to time)
Dairy (Alex, if you're reading this, I bequeath you my brie.)
Sugar
Processed foods
Alcohol
Oh, and yes, for the next 50 days, Any Type of Solid Food
At the end of this, I know I will incorporate some items back into my diet, but I am aiming to remain vegan. I have been a vegetarian for 25 years, and of that was successfully 100% vegan for about 18 months. Vegan is not easy outside the home. Taking your boyfriend to a raw food restaurant can be downright tragic. And having to hold a food inquisition becomes tiresome. But I cannot argue that I feel better as a vegan, that my skin is clearer, and my hair thicker. My next physical is scheduled for less than a week after I finish this fast, so I'll be able to update you on my overall health from a doctor's perspective.
I will be writing every day. I will have all of this extra time on my hands, so I'd better put it to good use. There will be a little venting, for sure, but I hope to keep this journal entertaining and informative. I will not be preaching on vegetarianism -- it was a choice I made many years ago, and am very passionate about it, but I am also a butcher's grand-daughter who grew up working in kitchens. I'm not meat-phobic. I don't want to eat it, but I won't stop you from eating it. (Though I will push the locally sourced, small farm variety.)
Here are a few statistics so that we're all starting on the same page:
Weight: 83.68 kilograms (I chose kg since I don't have an emotional attachment to that system of measure)
Height: 5'7"
Age: 40
Hair: Brown (yes, it's still growing that way which is the only reason I mention it.)
In 50 days, I'm guessing only one of these statistics will change, but we shall see . . .
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