Now that I have set myself up as a groovy, don't care what you think, non-conformist, let me share my shallow side with you. I was playing around on my computer and found my diet plan that I wrote down a few years ago which enabled me to drop about 20 or so pounds and pretty much stop thinking every second about food/weight/fat/thin.
SISTER SATSANG’S DIET PLAN
You must keep firmly in mind one thing: That the only, ONLY method of dieting to lose weight involves taking in less calories than you burn!!!!! In my experience, it doesn’t really matter where those calories come from. (Carbs, protein, sweets, whatever, although I do think some foods make you feel better than others and you get less shaky between meals with protein than sweets and carbs)
MUSTS (MEANING NOT OPTIONAL!!!)
1. You must drink 64 ounces of water per day and not drink any drinks with calories unless it is milk or protein shakes (not smoothies). It is somewhat important how you drink it, but not mandatory. The best way is to drink 8 oz before each meal (6 times a day) and keep water around the rest of the time, too. Drinking it before you eat fills your stomach. That is why the absolute best way is to drink it at least 5 minutes before you put anything into your mouth!
2. You must eat 6 times per day. Wait at least 2, but no more than 3 hours before you eat. If you wait, you will get too hungry and you will pig!
3. You must put a small amount of food on a plate. Do not pull out a bag of anything. Dish it out and put the food away! Be prepared to leave one bite of the same on the plate to throw away. People in China do not benefit from you cleaning your plate no matter what your mother said!
4. You must chew slowly. Chew each mouthful until it is absolute mush in your mouth. This way you absorb all of the flavor and give your brain a chance to register how much is in your stomach. This is not instantaneous. That is why you eat and eat and then regret it, feeling you could burst.
5. Stop eating long before you feel FULL. Stop when you no longer feel hungry. Tell yourself you will finish it later if you are still hungry. That is why I am the Queen of left overs and doggy-bags. Then I don’t feel bad for stopping eating.
The first week or two is somewhat hard, but notice that you don’t really feel hungry, just pissed because you can’t pig any more. Carry something with you at all times because you may get light headed when you are eating less than 1000 calories a day. Don’t freak out and say that it is killing you, because it isn’t. Also, when you are hungry outside of the 6 meals, find something to drink that is not a big calorie deal. Mine was coffee with sugarfree creamer. Yours can be unsweetened ice tea with splenda and ice chewing (don’t tell your dentist I recommended this). I also found Canfield’s sugar free chocolate cherry sodas that I sometimes drink at night for that chocolate fix.
I didn’t work out while I was doing this. I know me. Working out makes me hungry and I would use that as an excuse to gorge. I waited until I dropped the weight to pick up the weights and jogging, etc. But you do what you want. My suggestion is, though, if you work out eat BEFORE you work out, not after, or use those “Slim shots,” little creamer size looking shots of something (I haven’t tried them) that give your body a quick fix so you don’t overeat after exercising.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Being Different In a Land of Sheep
I just read a post by my friend, Gabriella Moonlight, on what she misses and doesn't miss about the Northwest, as opposed to the down home (here.) While it is true that the Bible belt is someplace that has a certain expectation of sameness (same race, same religion, same fundamental ideas), I for one have made it a lifelong quest to be in your face different.
Well, actually, when I was a kid, it was not a quest -- rather, it was just a fact of life and there were many tears shed over being too tomboyish, too smart, too goofy, too this, not enough that. But once I got over the fear of being different and learned that there is much entertainment in shocking and disturbing people in their comfortable stupor, I embraced being different and actually (embarrassingly) tried to be different. (I remember I had a book when I was about 9 which was entitled "How to Be a Nonconformist." The irony was lost on me as I searched every junk store and discount mart for "Jesus sandals.")
While I was the kid who your mother didn't want you to play with or, God forbid date, I grew up to gain a certain reputation of being quirky and fun and because I was, more or less, a reliable and responsible person with at least good intentions, more than a few straight lace people came to value my friendship as something that brought more that a little color to their grayish lives. It seems through high school, college, and beyond, I had "good girl" friends, even though I was a hard drinker and drugger and went through boys/men like a roll of one-ply paper towels. It really is quite ironic that quite of few of those "good girls" ended up pregnant, with either quiet adoptions, or spring-break weddings during their not-supposed-to-be final year of school. You see, when you are the "bad girl," no one is shocked when you are the first in your high school class to "go on the pill." Thanks mom!!!!
After having kids, being the crazy mom was more than a definite plus. My kids friends all loved me cuz I was funny and funky, I knew a surprising amount about the music they listened to, and I talked to them about real things, like sex, drugs, and rock and roll. (Of course by this time, I had sobered up, so the drugs and booze stories were quickly followed up by words of wisdom like, "I don't suggest you try that anytime soon.") Whether or not these kids ever told their plain vanilla parents any of my antics remains somewhat of a mystery, although I doubt many of them would have been allowed to return to my house if they had.
Now that I am quickly closing in on five decades of distinctiveness, I find that everyone around me is, for the most part, "out there" in one way or another. And living here in "White Onesizefitsall West Virginia" is made all the more pleasant for all of us by our common shared quirkiness. I think because I was raised here, I am more comfortable not being part of the en masse. Come to think of it, I wonder if I lived in someplace like the Northwest that GM describes, would I feel a little disappointed in not being one of the few spicy people around. Again, GM, this is a BigFishLittlePond world here. My BigFish is more like Tim Burton's than Tom T. Hall's. (Thank You God!!!!!)
Well, actually, when I was a kid, it was not a quest -- rather, it was just a fact of life and there were many tears shed over being too tomboyish, too smart, too goofy, too this, not enough that. But once I got over the fear of being different and learned that there is much entertainment in shocking and disturbing people in their comfortable stupor, I embraced being different and actually (embarrassingly) tried to be different. (I remember I had a book when I was about 9 which was entitled "How to Be a Nonconformist." The irony was lost on me as I searched every junk store and discount mart for "Jesus sandals.")
While I was the kid who your mother didn't want you to play with or, God forbid date, I grew up to gain a certain reputation of being quirky and fun and because I was, more or less, a reliable and responsible person with at least good intentions, more than a few straight lace people came to value my friendship as something that brought more that a little color to their grayish lives. It seems through high school, college, and beyond, I had "good girl" friends, even though I was a hard drinker and drugger and went through boys/men like a roll of one-ply paper towels. It really is quite ironic that quite of few of those "good girls" ended up pregnant, with either quiet adoptions, or spring-break weddings during their not-supposed-to-be final year of school. You see, when you are the "bad girl," no one is shocked when you are the first in your high school class to "go on the pill." Thanks mom!!!!
After having kids, being the crazy mom was more than a definite plus. My kids friends all loved me cuz I was funny and funky, I knew a surprising amount about the music they listened to, and I talked to them about real things, like sex, drugs, and rock and roll. (Of course by this time, I had sobered up, so the drugs and booze stories were quickly followed up by words of wisdom like, "I don't suggest you try that anytime soon.") Whether or not these kids ever told their plain vanilla parents any of my antics remains somewhat of a mystery, although I doubt many of them would have been allowed to return to my house if they had.
Now that I am quickly closing in on five decades of distinctiveness, I find that everyone around me is, for the most part, "out there" in one way or another. And living here in "White Onesizefitsall West Virginia" is made all the more pleasant for all of us by our common shared quirkiness. I think because I was raised here, I am more comfortable not being part of the en masse. Come to think of it, I wonder if I lived in someplace like the Northwest that GM describes, would I feel a little disappointed in not being one of the few spicy people around. Again, GM, this is a BigFishLittlePond world here. My BigFish is more like Tim Burton's than Tom T. Hall's. (Thank You God!!!!!)
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Introduction to Blogging
For ya'll's edification, "Satsang" means "in the company of truth." Now I chose this not because I am under any delusion that I know what the truth is, but because I would like to be at least in the company of the truth -- you know -- at least at the same table.
I am not a seasoned blogger; in fact, this is my very first blog. I do, however, live in close proximity to various bloggers, sort of in the same fashion as being at the same table with them. Some of these bloggers will need an introduction to the truth, others will probably recognize the truth after staring quizzically at it for a minute or two. I aspire to fall into the latter category more days than I fall into the former.
Okay, so here goes ----
I told a friend at lunch today that my very first blog would be a commentary on the politeness of southerners in general and my fellow West Virginians, in particular.
As more than a few young people born and raised in West Virginia do, I could not wait until I graduated school and could move from West Virginia into "the real world." Being a child of a West Virginia and his out-of-state bride, I had visited enough places during my youth to know that West Virginia was more than just a little behind the times in fashion, entertainment, education, sports, you name it. When I told kids I met in other states that I was from West Virginia, I came to expect either the questions about Richmond or the jeers regarding whether I wore shoes at home or not. So, with diploma in hand, I loaded up my Toyota Corrolla with everything I could stuff into it on the morning of graduation, and took off that evening in search of life beyond the Wild and Wonderful.
Four years and two states later (Florida and Colorado), I found I could not wait to get back home to West Virginia. I was tired of the snotty, impolite people that I found out there and long for my home, where you could not get into a elevator and ride one floor without the stranger riding with you commenting on the weather or telling you that your dress was pretty. The fact is there is no state in the entire country as friendly as West Virginia. There are very few people that you can pass on the street who will not greet you with a hello. A few years back I was sued by a guy who had a store around the corner from where I worked. Every few days I would pass him on the street and being polite West Virginiana, neither of us could walk by each other without the "Hey, _____," "Hey, ____,"'s being exchanged.
Go to any store and the cashier will most likely attempt to engage you in a conversation about something, be it the weather or what you are purchasing. Likewise, go into any diner and the 18 year old waitress will, most likely, ask you, "What can I get for you, Honey." It always amuses me when girls half my age call me honey! While I find it endearing, I know others, mainly folks from out-of-state, that find it insultingly inappropriate. Come on, I say, she isn't saying it to come on to you. She was just raised that way.
I will say it again. West Virginians find it nearly impossible to be impolite to your face. However, they will talk about you behind your back like nobody's business!!!!!
I guess really they both stem from the same condition. West Virginia is small. Therefore, there is that homey feeling that lends itself to outward politeness. But it also gives West Virginians the feeling of familiarity that allows them to comment on your every move, thought, word, action, inaction, opinion, etc. Get any two West Virginians together and they will find someone to talk about. And, because we tend to have low opinions of ourselves as dumb hillbillies, we love to talk trash about somebody else. It is the Homer Simpson mantra. "We put down others, Bart, so we can feel good about ourselves." You know it has gone too far and the West Virginian has stepped over the line of simply good natured gossip to really trashing the person if the comment is either begun with "God love him" or ended with "Bless her heart!" Those sayings forgive a multitude of sinful slurs.
But, here I am living in West by God for an uninterrupted twenty-four years preceded by four short years in the real world, preceded by twenty-two years in Wild and Wonderful. I'll just end by saying that West Virginians can be just as ruthless in their gossip as they can be syrupy in their southern manners, but "God love them," they are doing the best they can!!!
I am not a seasoned blogger; in fact, this is my very first blog. I do, however, live in close proximity to various bloggers, sort of in the same fashion as being at the same table with them. Some of these bloggers will need an introduction to the truth, others will probably recognize the truth after staring quizzically at it for a minute or two. I aspire to fall into the latter category more days than I fall into the former.
Okay, so here goes ----
I told a friend at lunch today that my very first blog would be a commentary on the politeness of southerners in general and my fellow West Virginians, in particular.
West Virginia - The Faux Friendliest State in the Nation
As more than a few young people born and raised in West Virginia do, I could not wait until I graduated school and could move from West Virginia into "the real world." Being a child of a West Virginia and his out-of-state bride, I had visited enough places during my youth to know that West Virginia was more than just a little behind the times in fashion, entertainment, education, sports, you name it. When I told kids I met in other states that I was from West Virginia, I came to expect either the questions about Richmond or the jeers regarding whether I wore shoes at home or not. So, with diploma in hand, I loaded up my Toyota Corrolla with everything I could stuff into it on the morning of graduation, and took off that evening in search of life beyond the Wild and Wonderful.
Four years and two states later (Florida and Colorado), I found I could not wait to get back home to West Virginia. I was tired of the snotty, impolite people that I found out there and long for my home, where you could not get into a elevator and ride one floor without the stranger riding with you commenting on the weather or telling you that your dress was pretty. The fact is there is no state in the entire country as friendly as West Virginia. There are very few people that you can pass on the street who will not greet you with a hello. A few years back I was sued by a guy who had a store around the corner from where I worked. Every few days I would pass him on the street and being polite West Virginiana, neither of us could walk by each other without the "Hey, _____," "Hey, ____,"'s being exchanged.
Go to any store and the cashier will most likely attempt to engage you in a conversation about something, be it the weather or what you are purchasing. Likewise, go into any diner and the 18 year old waitress will, most likely, ask you, "What can I get for you, Honey." It always amuses me when girls half my age call me honey! While I find it endearing, I know others, mainly folks from out-of-state, that find it insultingly inappropriate. Come on, I say, she isn't saying it to come on to you. She was just raised that way.
I will say it again. West Virginians find it nearly impossible to be impolite to your face. However, they will talk about you behind your back like nobody's business!!!!!
I guess really they both stem from the same condition. West Virginia is small. Therefore, there is that homey feeling that lends itself to outward politeness. But it also gives West Virginians the feeling of familiarity that allows them to comment on your every move, thought, word, action, inaction, opinion, etc. Get any two West Virginians together and they will find someone to talk about. And, because we tend to have low opinions of ourselves as dumb hillbillies, we love to talk trash about somebody else. It is the Homer Simpson mantra. "We put down others, Bart, so we can feel good about ourselves." You know it has gone too far and the West Virginian has stepped over the line of simply good natured gossip to really trashing the person if the comment is either begun with "God love him" or ended with "Bless her heart!" Those sayings forgive a multitude of sinful slurs.
But, here I am living in West by God for an uninterrupted twenty-four years preceded by four short years in the real world, preceded by twenty-two years in Wild and Wonderful. I'll just end by saying that West Virginians can be just as ruthless in their gossip as they can be syrupy in their southern manners, but "God love them," they are doing the best they can!!!
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