Starting Over, South Beach Style
Stupid, stupid weather.
I blame the heatwave. Actually, I blame a lot of things aside from last summer’s scorching 100-degree days mixed with humidity here in the Northeast, but the heatwave is particularly at fault.
At the time it hit, I had developed a steady pattern of cooking my meals. But, when you’re in a NY apartment and can’t afford a $500 electric bill, cooking over a hot stove in a 90-something degree interior doesn’t gonna cut it (unless you consider sweating into your food totally acceptable). When dire, hot hellish heat hits, you do your damndest to get out of the house and head just about anywhere that has free air-conditioning: movie theaters, restaurants, or maybe the ex you rarely talk to but don’t mind hanging out with on the grounds of cool air you can fall asleep in.
This is not me during a heatwave.
Yeah.
And, here’s where the problem started: I went to McDonalds and Starbucks, where the former’s dollar menu wreaked havoc on my systems and the latter’s baristas came to know me so well that I could expect a nightly sugar bomb in the form of pastry or super-sweetened drinks.
Thanks to McDoubles and extra foamy whip, what little weight I had shed in late spring came back, with a few extra visitors. To my horror, my stomach bulged again. My larger T-shirts weren’t so forgiving. And, I couldn’t fit into some of my jeans without an unsightly roll making itself apparent with a disproportionate amount of cake top (I was definitely past muffin at that point).
Which where the second culprit comes in: Hurricane Irene, which forced me to stay home. Due to cabin fever compounded by my already lousy outlook, I ate worse- chocolates, pierogis, and generally any carb guaranteed to insulate my rear end better than padding at a loony bin.
And, I felt sick- the first time that, to my knowledge, that I’d ever really had it with food. I hated eating. Worse, I was starting to notice that I was beginning to get out of breath a little too easily over some short distances.
Regardless of the weather, I had to do something different.
The beauty of starting over is that it’s just that: you can always do it. If you must, just do it. And, I was someone who just needed to hit a “STOP” button so I could assess where I needed to go. Enough was enough; I felt gross, sick, and disgusting, and I was sick of carping on myself. I didn’t have enough emotion leftover for a temper tantrum, but enough to pick up a dusty, dog-eared copy of the South Beach Diet from where it was squished between an issue of Vogue and an astrology book.
I read. More importantly, I quizzed my friends and acquaintances about the diet. Would I have to give up rice? Would I feel starved and lacking any substance? Would I feel like a depraved animal ready to maim with this so-called eating plan?
I was afraid that the answers would be yes, especially on the last count.
Fortunately, I heard positive reviews about it. And, my snarly, moody self wasn’t too bogged down by a pity party to respond to a challenge: surely, could I do three days of South Beach diet’s Phase One? No carbs, no sugar except for substitutes, and as low fat as possible. In the thick of PMS, I went for it.
Three weeks later, I sit here astonished at having turned my appetite around.
Generally, I don’t succeed at diets. And I hate anything that tries to prescribe what to eat down to the specifics of a recipe. But, once I understood the broad parameters- what foods to avoid, what was permissible- I felt a freedom to monkey around and combine things that I never would have thought to do. Financially, I was okay- what I didn’t spend on bread or pasta simply went to veggies and lowfat cheese (yes! YES!).
And, three days into it, I was astonished that my carb/sugar cravings are vastly reduced. At three weeks later, I’m still surprised.
I can’t say I’m hugely perfect, though- I still love caffeine, and am not one to go without one cup of coffee or a latte on the weekend; I just go at it without the high-fat milk or half-and-half (which I dearly, dearly miss). But for the most part, the South Beach diet has curbed 80% of my more destructive, unhealthier impulses. I no longer crave ice cream at night, or have the urge to mow through a whole carton. And by eating a stable protein breakfast with some veggies thrown in, I don’t catch my blood sugar going all over the place.
And, I can see my belly fat going away.
The beauty of this diet is that it’s introduced me to parameters that make me feel good about myself. And, it’s from this point that I’m happy to announce that I’m resuming this blog. I’ve got a bunch of new tips and things to share, and I can’t wait to write more when time permits 
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Tags: Lex's insight, losing weight, eating, South Beach diet, South Beach, heatwave, hurricane Irene, eating better, losing belly fat
Never Regret the Good Calories
As my knee recovers back to a point of being able to handle exercise again, I’ve been super-focused on eating, and eating well.
More veggies? Check.
Sensible portions of pasta? Check.
Cooking my own food so I know just how much fat is in it? Check, check, check.
In general, I’ve discovered a healthier place because I cook most of my food now. I’ve even noticed a small drop in weight (yay, happy accident). But, a girl has to go out every once in awhile. Specifically, when a heatwave comes to NY and ushers in a period where she doesn’t feel like cooking, then it’s perfectly okay to eat out- and indulge.
While out and about, I suddenly had a craving for mac and cheese. No matter what time of day or season, I always have the stomach for an ooey, gooey dose of mac and cheese. Sure enough, I discovered an aptly named place to have a bite- The Little Cheese Pub in Chelsea. Thirty minutes after my original craving, I sat down to a piping-hot iron skillet full of handcut pasta, melted Mordier cheese, caramelized onions, and a large duck meatball.
Was it good? Absolutely.
Am I sorry? Absolutely NOT.
Here’s the deal- there are moments when I simply must step off the reservation, get off the program, and just have a moment where a meal is a savory experience, and not a practical cause. Much as I would love to gear my diet around health, I have to have a share of happy foodie moments too. All diet focus work and no play makes me slightly deranged. Eating this super-yummy mac and cheese was the nice point of a busy day coupled with the thrill of discovering someplace new to visit.
Thus, I present Good Calories- calories eaten in a moment of happiness, where the meal is the right one for that moment, and is eaten in a generally celebratory, happy mood. It’s not the healthiest option in the world, but it isn’t one I turned to appease something else or compensate for something bad.
Simply put: it’s enjoyment eating.
On the flip side, there’s the Bad Calories that should be avoided- the nightly carton of ice cream eaten in pity-party moods, or the furious consumption of pork rinds and/or salt and vinegar chips when stressed and/or maniacally PMSing. (And, sad to say, this also includes the corned beef hash and eggs that are just so much better when I’ve got a little booze in my system.)
Danger, danger.
None of these things are inherently awful and perfectly suitable at the right moment, but when the loud refrain of “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I’m going to eat some worms…” rolls in my head- well, I probably should eat the worms, because they’re healthier than things I’ve eaten with no thought for tomorrow in a bad mood.
Ultimately, the act of eating is emotional. Just as I should never be sorry for the genuinely fun-loving and happy accents in my life, I’ve decided not to be sorry over the times when life presents me with a calorie-laden dish of indulgence in one of those times. It’s one thing to regret any of my greatest hits of sloppy, self-pitying consumption of Breyer’s ice cream cartons.
But, I refuse to stress over days of happy eating. Neither should you.
And, with this mac and cheese, there are no apologies needed.
Little Cheese Pub’s French Man Mac and Cheese- Mordier cheese, balsamic caramelized onions, duck meatball.
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Tags: bad calories, cheese, good calories, Little Cheese Pub, mac and cheese, NYC
Ordinarily, I’m a loyal gal when it comes to warm weather. Nothing makes me happier than temperatures in the 70′s or 80′s after a long winter. The sheer act of wearing shorts feels like freedom after cumbersome winter coats. And with longer daylight hours, I am far more carefree than my wintry hibernator self.
But when there’s humidity, all bets are off.
I generally hate humidity; it’s thick, debilitating, aggravating, and leaves me feeling gross (and occasionally stuck to leather pieces of furniture). But with my knee injury, I hate it even more. On a calm, cool day, my knee doesn’t rear up. On a humid one, a simple half-mile walk can start throbbing, and swelling doesn’t completely subside after icing.
Most of all, it makes me feel like a little Jewish old dude ready to complain about grandchildren and thingamajigs he never had at my actual age.
So, on that note, here’s a track to enjoy if you hate humidity as much as I do. Surely, if anything, it’s something to laugh at in this crappy weather:
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Tags: East Coast, East Coast Weather, humidity, knee injury, NYC summer, Oy it's so humid, summer, Two Live Jews
No Running, No Walking
When healing from a joint injury, it can be tricky to ascertain if you’ve truly healed. And, because of modern medicine, it’s truly easy to feel better when you’re not cured.
Thus was the case over this past fourth of July, where I decided Oh hell with it. For that day, I didn’t want to wear my injury-friendly MBT’s; I wanted flip flops that would allow me to wiggle my toes. And, I went on a long walk- a thirty minute light cardio walk at a decent pace.
When I got home, the knee started to throb. Worse, it wouldn’t stop till later that night.
And once again, I was faced with the proof: I was truly injured. I need to take proper care of myself.
As it is, my dilemma is to figure out how I can incorporate some exercise as my knee recovers more. But, the more immediate issue at hand is vanity: much as I appreciate my MBT’s, I want to wear flip flops like everyone else. In this brilliant summer season, I might as well be wearing clogs.
Yi-fucking-pee.
I’m going to keep up with my recovery. And in the meantime, no fashionable flip flops for me.
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Tags: injury, injury recovery, Lex's insight, MBTs, patience
Progress!
Aha. Happy news to report. After some three weeks of treating my knee with Aleve/Glucosamine Chronditin, it’s improving. There’s less pain and swelling going on. Though a lot of physical activity will obviously exacerbate it (which came from working a weekend sale with people bombarding me every five minutes), the last few days have been copacetic.
So, the immediate plan is to take a few longer walks to see how it holds up with a low-impact cardio. But for now, I feel more awesome than I have in months.
Hurray!
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Hanging on the Injured List…
Yargh. Life isn’t fun when injured. In this case, my knee hasn’t picked up yet. My old meniscus injury is still present and preventing me from doing any of my old workouts- jogging or walking. And it flares up in humidity.
If there’s anything I’m wrapping my head around, it’s patience. It’s understanding that unlike a fever or common disease, an injury doesn’t disappear in four days. It’s likewise a question of understanding that my knee has acquired some cumulative damage that requires 6-8 weeks to heal with rehab exercises.
Sigh. I’m not a patient person.
After initially hoping my knee required little more than an aspirin regimen, I’ve switched up my medication to a combination of Aleve/Advil- naproxen sodium and ibuprofen, with glucosamine chronditin. Fingers crossed that I’ll see less pain in two weeks.
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O-kay. So, this past week, I’ve been faithfully taking glucosamine for my injured knee. While I haven’t experienced less joint pain yet (glucosamine takes anywhere from a week or two to start lessening joint discomfort), a side effect has shown up: flatulence.
How Lex Became Socially Lethal
Rumbly to the point of starting a natural disaster and feeling defiantly seismic, the glucosamine certainly makes me feel like I’ve tapped a whole new, different kind of natural power, like I suddenly discovered a new mutant ability to blast my way around town without needing public transportation.
Because glucosamine makes me feel this peppy.
I had three solid days of worrying over whether I could single-handedly set off a Richter scale. Thankfully, my body has taken to the glucosamine, lessening the amount of potentially dangerous emissions (while still maintaining the tsunami-causing force when one occurs). But, heightened paranoia aside, I’m going to merely conclude I’m as cool as a frickin’ unicorn. No matter what, they can do anything- and they’re still socially acceptable.
So, if you’re even remotely arthritic and are considering glucosamine as part of your rehab, be aware: you might want to be careful about drinking coffee, eating cauliflower… and standing too close to your friends.
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Tags: flatulence, glucosamine, glucosamine side effects
Much as I would love to write about making more progress in my quest for a healthy body, I’ve been sidelined by my knee- a longtime injury of torn cartilage that worsened this past winter.
Initially, I thought the causes of my worsened knee were directly related to age and the season. Cold weather and low temperatures haven’t been terribly kind to my good ol’ knee. And I figured hey, age happens. But, I’ve had a painful last few months- time where, by the end of the day, I’m wincing on a one-mile walk home and can feel the anterior part of my damaged knee throbbing. I have never, ever run into any pain, and realized there’s another culprit: my shoes.
Last summer, I went to Jack Rabbit Sports on the Upper East Side. Eager to start jogging again, I jogged on their treadmill, and let a salesperson/running specialist evaluate my stride so that I could jog in a proper pair of shoes. We selected an Asics pair and off we went- except that as I sought to break in my shoe, my left knee- my old injury- started to flare up again.
Since the pain wasn’t terrible and I assumed there was an adjustment period on the shoe, I stuck to it. Surely, it would go away, I thought. The problem was, it didn’t.
Soon after deciding to jog again, I had to set aside that goal because of getting a (then) new job bartending, one that included lots of heavy lifting from a cellar with concrete stairs. While wearing the Asics, my knee started to hurt then; I assumed it was the heavy lifting and the constant stair travels that were the causes, but I never stopped to think that my shoe was in any way incompatible.
After losing that job and getting a new one over Christmas, I continued to use the Asics as my everyday walking shoe. Gradually, I could feel it flatten like a tire- where the cushioning didn’t feel strong anymore. And my knee started to worsen.
It wasn’t until that I did errands in a pair of old sneakers- Nike Air Rifts- that I noticed that my knee pain was significantly less in other shoes. And my brain started putting facts together- my knee didn’t hurt in my old shoe. Heck, my knee hadn’t ever hurt terribly in those shoes. The switch from Nike Air Rifts (as well as a pair of trusty Adidas cross trainers with thick soles) to Asics had exposed my knee to all sorts of shock in the last few months.
And, at the age of 35, I have an arthritic knee. And feel like a little old lady. F*&&*&^. (A subsequent phone call with my brother likewise confirmed my suspicions, and he recommended the book “Born to Run”, which alleges the expensive running shoe industry is actually responsible for runner injuries).
But, luckily, the condition is treatable, and I’ve chosen to go at this on two counts- both external, and internal.
On the external front, I’ve given up the Asics and have chosen to go the MBT route- shoes which mimic a Masai runner’s barefoot stride. As the original inspiration for copycat Skecher Shape-Ups, they’re shoes only a mother could love, but they are crazy, crazy comfortable. They are expensive- but with some sleuthing, I found shoes on Amazon that were on sale and not as crazy expensive.
On the internal, I’m taking glucosamine supplements so that my knee has an opportunity to rebuild some cartilage, improve joint movement, and eliminate pain. So far, so good. But as I’ve just started, I have no real results evaluated. But I’m so far relieved- I feel confident these can help me with any light exercise I do in the coming 8-10 weeks.
Thus fellow health junkies, here’s my skinny: if you’re trying to narrow down causes of joint pain, don’t be surprised if your culprit is in your closet. Change your shoes, and find what sneaker suits YOU. The solution may be as simple as Spike Lee’s words: It’s gotta be the shoes.
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Tags: arthritis, Born to Run book, exercise shoes, glucosamine, injury, knee injury, MBT, MBT shoes, running shoes
Last night, I bit a bullet: I exercised for the first time since July of last year.
In the process, I confronted some accumulated fear: that my body would suck, that I couldn’t do the moves, that why should I bother? Especially because my knee is now sensitive?
But, for 50 minutes, I exercised. Stretching required effort, real effort. Did a combo of jogging in place with various isometric exercises, a routine of Edward Jackowski’s I vaguely remembered (and cleaned the cobwebs from). Watched Grey’s Anatomy to keep me entertained (it did, marginally). Cooled down and wrote in my other journal.
I needed to do this, to kick myself into action. I’d forgotten that I love taking care of myself because of the various amounts of stress I’m handling- changing jobs, keeping bills paid, and so forth. And I forgot I could do this because I fell back into a negative headspace where I judge myself for not doing so. It’s thinking that I’ve been an out-of-shape-loser that’s kept me couch potatoed and sedentary, and that led to a belief that I couldn’t exercise.
Eeek.
But, I did it. And I’m going to shoot for a couple more workouts in the next few days.
What does this make me? Awesome.
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Location, Location, Location
If I were to give a speech about my daily trek to work Abraham Lincoln-style, here’s how it would start:
“Four bakeries, three markets, two Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks all within 6 street and 2 Avenue blocks, Lex’s extra cupcake pounds were born from daily walks to her new job and back.”
Insidious little cupcake motherfuckers.
Up to now, I never suffered from the whole location debacle. Sure, I’ve worked down the street from a couple cafes, but I never faced them head-on on a daily basis. I just walked past apartment buildings to work at my last two gigs, maybe got a candy bar here and there at a bodega, but never ran into so many potential junk food buddies until these last few months.
I can almost hear the little red velvets giggling. Bastards.
Damn cupcakes.
Filed under: food, personal | 2 Comments
Tags: bad for you, circumstance, cupcake, environmental culprits
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