I’m so tired of picking up banana peels off the wooden cutting board on the kitchen counter. I just can’t understand how hard it is for you to toss the peel in the compost after you unwrap your banana. And while we’re talking about compost, must your tissues remain on the dresser and table? Can you not toss them when done?
Guest Post By: Brad Krause
Is self-care a part of your fitness regimen? We don’t mean going for a run when you’re feeling stressed out, we’re talking about doing things outside the gym to preserve your physical and mental wellness. A lot of athletes spend so much energy on fitness that they neglect self-care, but self-care is an important part of cultivating a healthy body and mind.
Of course, exercise in itself is a form of self-care. When you work out, you’re not only improving your physical fitness, you’re sweating out stress, strengthening your mind, boosting your mood and self-esteem, and making it easier to get the quality sleep you need.
It’s getting close to summer and everyone is racing to lose those extra 5, 10, 15 pounds they consumed over the cold winter months. For me, the gorging was unstoppable. I drank and ate whatever and whenever I wanted. I left all my insecurities outside in the freezing cold and was able to shut the door on them.
Until now.
Now that the warmer weather is floating in, I’m left feeling bloated. Not just that, my face has broken out and I feel heavy and frumpy. I don’t feel like myself. I regret the way I’ve eaten and the promises I broke to myself in favour of gluttony. It was fun while it lasted, but now I’m paying the price.
All over my social media are ads for different ways lose those extra pounds. Such ads include Shakeology, 21 Pounds in 21 Days, Hydroxycut, and Whole 30. My world, they are all so appealing to me, however, I’m keeping my distance.
Now, before I give you my reason why I’m steering clear of the various weight loss methods out there, I need you to understand that I am not bashing these practices in any way. I know they work for some people, but for me, they read “danger” in red bold letters splashed across them.
You see, I have a long history of disordered eating. I live with Body Dysmorphia Disorder and, over the years, I’ve taken on several bad habits to lose weight. I’ve done diets, fad diets, popped more pills than I can remember, drank teas, counted calories, and tried cutting out foods. I even once tried a colon cleanse that ended poorly. Once I get it in my head to start diet or a cleanse, my obsessions come flooding back in like the water over a broken dam. I get caught in the storm and I have a hard time getting out.
Now being a gorger with limited willpower, it takes a lot for me stay in control. It’s not unheard of for me to binge and then work out excessively with the hope to lose the weight. I’ve gotten a lot better at managing my impulses, but I still go through this at least once a month.
My love for food and my need to be thin are at a constant battle.
I know that if I try to use one of these weight loss methods, I will go downhill. Fast. I can’t risk it. It’s taken me too long to get where I am right now and I’m not even where I want to be. My work on accepting my body as it is is a slow process, but it is moving forward. With the help of the Body-Positivity campaign and people all over the media tearing down the one-size-fits-all age-old idea of what the body “should” look like, a difference in being made and I’m coming around.
One of my biggest fears is having my son witness my old habits that are harmful. I don’t want him to know that his mom is insecure about her body. I don’t want him to hear my sobs as I look at myself in the mirror while pulling back my rolls and lifting my skin. And while he witnesses me weighing myself on a regular basis, I don’t make a peep when I see that I am a few pounds heavier than I want to be. This all here is enough to make me want to continue down my path in recovery.
Not being able to indulge in my preferred methods of weight loss allows me to practice healthy self-care and my family has got my back. We cook healthy foods and my son is an awesome motivator. While he doesn’t really eat the foods we make because he’s four and eating is rarely on his list of things to do these days, I still make them because this is what I want him eat, should he decide he’s hungry one day. I’ve cut myself some slack in the workout department as well, because sometimes life is better when it’s lived than when it’s not. Sometimes that after-work workout isn’t going to happen because coffee with a friend is more fulfilling. And that’s okay.
I don’t want to be controlled by this obsession to look a certain way.
The ads may dangle in front of my face like candy to a child, but I resist.
I resist because I have to.
I need to do this the old fashion way and if it takes me a little longer, then so be it.
I’m trying to involve more spaghetti-squash in our diets the best the way I can without my husband tasting what he considers as “gross squash”. He hates squash. All squash. I’ve managed to make a soup with squash that he loves so I thought maybe I could master the spaghetti-squash as well.
He didn’t love the squash, but he loved the flavours. The beauty of this recipe is that it could be easily substituted with spaghettini or any other kind of pasta you’d like.
Oil and Garlic Spaghetti-Squash with Chicken
You will need:
1 Spaghetti Squash
2-3 Cloves of Garlic, minced
1 Cooking Onion, diced
Half a Broccoli, chopped
2 Chicken Breasts, diced in cubes
Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper to Taste
Directions:
In the meantime,
I was trying to do some spur-of-the-moment meal-planning at the supermarket this past weekend when a tiny light bulb went on in my head. Suddenly I found myself picking up the ingredients I would need to finally make that long-awaited lasagna. Oh how I miss lasagna. I’ve been craving it for a while now, yet I’ve been avoiding it because it’s work to make your own sauce and I’ve been lazy.
However, buying the ingredients I need to make this saucy and cheesy dish kick-started my motivation and in that moment, I was in it to win it. I was going to go home, pull out all the ingredients, and immediately get to work on making a something my husband, my son, and I all love.
My mother gave me her recipe years ago and I used it as a base while I adding to it. This simple recipe can be made as a vegetarian dish, which is what my mother used to make, or you can add meat to it, which is what my carnivorous husband makes sure I create.
This lasagna was by far my best lasagna ever. It was so delicious, I just had to share.
Lasagna
You will need:
Ground meat (it can be any meat you’d like)
3-4 Cloves of Garlic (I love garlic. Use as many as you’d like), minced
2 small Cooking Onions, diced
2 156ml cans of Tomato Paste
2 398ml cans of Tomato Sauce
Bunch of Mushrooms, chopped finely
Fresh Spinach
1 454g container of Ricotta Cheese
1 450g of Mozzarella Cheese
Grated Parmesan Cheese
1 tsp of Kosher Salt
2 tsp of Oregano
1 tsp of Italian Spice
¼ tsp of Tabasco Sauce
4 tsps of Worcestershire Sauce
2 tbsps of Olive Oil
Directions:
ME TOO
Yes, me too. I have been sexually harassed and sexually assaulted by men. I have been touched and grabbed and pinched. I have had inappropriate comments fly my way by way of cat-calling and have felt discomfort over it. Please, put your tongue back in your mouth and wipe away that smirk. No one is impressed.
I went dancing quite a bit back in my twenties. One night, we were at a club dancing up a storm when a man took it upon himself to come up from behind me and grab my crotch and my breast. He grabbed my body with a force that instantly scared the crap out of me. Somehow he believed that this is was okay; that perhaps I’d like it. My friend was at the bar and I was on my own. Unfortunately no one noticed what was happening until it was too late. Nevertheless, I fought off this sad excuse for a human being by shoving him back as hard as I could and using my already loud voice to demand that fucks off.
It wasn’t until after I fought back that another man noticed that I wasn’t enjoying being manhandled by this creep and came over to see if I was all right. The potential rescuer said he didn’t realize I was being attacked until it was too late. And fair enough. We were, after all, at a club and it’s not unheard of to see people groping each other on the dance floor. How could he know?
I shrugged off this experience as “just another day”. How awful is that? Just another day? That’s a terrible thought, but what was I going to do? He was gone at that point; just another face in the crowd.
This isn’t just my story. It’s every woman’s story. Look at your Facebook feed! It’s filled with #metoo. This is a culture that needs to end.
#METOO
Since the wake of the Harvey Weinstein scandal, women and men everywhere started joining a movement. A movement that lets perpetrators know that we will not be silenced and victims know that they are not alone. I want to help others come forward and not be ashamed, which is why I joined. They, like I, have done nothing wrong.
Me Too
Me too? YOU TOO!
You are the one on the stand, not me. You’re the one who creepily stared at me with your laser eyes borrowing through my soul while you sat in your car playing with yourself at a red light, of all places. I saw you, I did. And I wanted to immediately vomit.
Your’e the one who put your filthy hands on me, thinking that I wanted someone to squeeze my ass, when in reality, I just wanted to get to my destination on the subway untouched.
You’re the one who sent me creepy messages through social media channels trying to get my attention.
You too
People everywhere are lending their support in light of the yet another Hollywood scandal. However, not everyone wants to share their stories, and that’s okay. We have to remember that just because someone doesn’t want to hashtag me too, doesn’t mean he or she hasn’t experienced any kind of harassment or assault. So while we see the numbers rising in support, the numbers are so much greater than we could ever imagine.
Screenshot from a Tweet by Alexis Benveniste
I’ve read some criticisms against the movement and while I see the other side’s point, I will continue to share my voice and be as loud as I can possibly be in the hopes that I can help at least one woman feel less alone. I will continue to share my stories to help bring awareness because, in all honesty, I’m not hopeful about these men taking responsibility for their actions. Sounds negative and pessimistic, but this is where we are in 2017.
#YOUTOO
Perspective.
Perspective is something I’m working on these days.
I’ve lived with body image issues for as long as I can remember. I’ve never been small enough, skinny enough, or toned enough. There’s always something that I need to work on, whether it’s my belly, my arms, my thighs, my chest, or my back. Did I really just name every part of my body? Well, in all fairness, I think my calfs have always been just fine.
Now that I have a three-year-old, I’m starting to accept my body a bit more. Don’t get too excited too quickly. I said I’m starting to, not that I have fully accepted it. However, lately I have been having more okay days than worry days, so that’s something.
I’m starting to believe what people are talking about when they speak about bodies and perspective. I recently shared an article I saw on Scary Mommy called “Woman’s Side-By-Side Photos Prove Instagram ‘Perfection’ Is A Myth”. It was a wonderful article about a woman’s mission to dispel the idea that everything on social media is as it seems. Because it isn’t. And her side-by-side photos prove it.
The article got me thinking about my own body and my own self-image. It got me thinking to the two photos I purposely took while on vacation for this reason, but that I didn’t have the guts to share. I wanted to post about body-image and how easily we can be confused about what a person’s body actually looks like. But I just didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.
Until now.
Today I have the guts. Today I will show my photos. Today I will bare my soul and conquer my fears and show you my insecurities. Why? Because I’ve lived with Body Dysmorphia for years. Because I am a mother and I need to display a healthy mindset about my body for my son’s sake. Because there are too many women out there who are too ashamed to be who they are (me being one of those women).
So, here I am.
Photo on the left is with my son. In it I see larger thighs than I care to have. I see fat under my arm that needs to go. I see stubborn rolls on my side and back that I can’t seem to get rid of. Now, photo on the right was taken the exact same day, maybe ten minutes later. In it, I see a flat stomach. I see a bit of my rib cage (which, unfortunately, has always been a goal for me). I see no rolls and no cellulite. I am happy inside. I’d love to tell you that that is how I look all the time. But it’s not.
The only difference between these two photos other than the fact that I am holding my son in one of them, is that the photos are taken from different angles. Anyone can look slim when you take a selfie or a photo from high up.
I won’t lie and say I am at ease showing the world this. I won’t lie and tell you I am completely comfortable with baring my truths online. But I will tell you one truth, if there is one: This is me.
The real me.
I am wearing a bikini because my rational mind says it’s okay. Later on, I will wear a one piece because my irrational mind will tell me to cover up. I have a lot of work to do, but I’m a work in progress and I accept that.
My goal is to reach women of all shapes and sizes and let them know that it’s okay to be who you are. No one is perfect because there is no such thing as perfect.
Be kind. Be you. Be real.
For more on Body Image and Acceptance, check out: This Woman Was Beautiful and I Wanted to Tell Her
We live down the street from a beach so there’s nothing stopping us from going to for a swim when it’s hot out during the summer. This perk is one of the very many things I love about living where I do.
After I finished stuffing my face with tacos, we got dressed and took off to the beach. Luckily, because it was six pm, there were very few people there. As we walked into the beach area, I noticed a full-figured woman on her phone. She was striking, like, stop and stare striking. But I had no time to be creepy as I had to catch up with my kid.
My son chased birds and conquered the shoreline with excitement. The striking woman went back to her spot where she was sitting with another woman. The two of them joined me in laughing at my son being going wild. They were watching their three older kids play in the water.
I finally managed to wrestle the kid down for a second to pull off his sandals before he tore off again. Again, the ladies laughed and so did I. My kid peed on the sand in his bathing suit and we laughed about how funny he looked doing it.
I was wearing my maternity bathing suit. A tankini and bottoms. It’s loose, no doubt, but I swear it fits! It’s totally comfortable and I really like the pattern.
You see, I was feeling bloated and when I feel bloated I believe everyone within a five-mile radius can see how imperfect I look. Yes, I can be that insecure.
I looked back at the woman and she smiled. She was full-figured and absolutely lovely. She carried herself with pride and confidence. She had tattoos up and down her arms and on her back. She had a labret piercing that only complimented her already gorgeous face. She had incredible long black straight hair that she held up in a pony tail. When I mentioned her to my husband, he let me know that he had already noticed her. This woman stood out.
Suddenly, I envied this woman. I envied her zero-fucks-given about whether she had a thigh-gap or not. I envied the way she held herself, back straight and head high. And gosh, she was in a bikini and she knew she rocked it.
It got me thinking. I weigh about as much as a two-year-old Great-Dane (my neighbour’s dog). I eat healthy for the most part. I work out regularly and I’m pretty active otherwise (I do have a toddler, so there’s that).
Why don’t I raise my head up more? Why do I slouch my shoulders? Why am I so concerned about my physical appearance?
Because I always have been. Because I don’t know how not to.
I’m married to a man who always tell me how beautiful I am and how much he loves my figure. I wear fitting clothes and bikinis at times because the rational half of my mind lets me know it’s okay. She was wearing a black and teal bikini.
The problem is the irrational half of my mind. The part that obsesses over looks. The one who tells me my thighs are chunky and I shouldn’t be wearing that. The one who looks at the muffin top or the loose skin on my belly.
The loose skin that appeared from having a baby, my rational mind replies. The loose skin that accompanied the fact that I carried a human in my body for close to 42-weeks of my life (the guy just didn’t want to leave).
Who cares, right?
This woman was beautiful and I wanted to tell her that. So, I did. I walked up to the two women, said have a nice evening, and then preceded to tell the woman I am speaking of that I am not creepy but she looks fabulous and she is lovely to look at. She smiled, laughed, and said thank you. She said I was lovely too, and I said thank you, but I wasn’t there for her to compliment me. I was there to compliment her.
We do so much shaming and judging. We are expected to look a certain way. And this woman looked the entire opposite of those magazines and was incredible. I wanted to tell her that. Since we’re so quick to judge behind people’s back, I thought I’d say something nice to someone, out loud and to her face.
This post was originally published on Tova-Leigh – My Thoughts About Stuff
For more on Body Image and Acceptance, check out: Body Image and Perspective: Learning to Accept My Body
Anyone who knows me knows that I work out quite a bit. In fact, sometimes become enthralled in it and enjoy challenging myself with new workouts and activities. I become unmotivated when I plateau so I always feel the need to switch things up.
But which exercise is most helpful to me in reaching my goal? What can I do more of or less of?
Last year a friend of mine got a Fitbit. I was pretty amazed because It calculated her heartbeat, her steps, and how many stairs she took in a day. The tracker also allowed her to compete with other people who had the tracker, so she felt motivated all the time. Then my sister showed me hers while we were away and I knew then that I wanted a fitness tracker. I could see that it motivated both my friend and my sister in being more active.
But I didn’t get one because I didn’t know what I wanted, or how much I wanted to spend, or what the brands out there were.
Last Christmas, my mother-in-law surprised me with my very own fitness tracker. Now, it wasn’t the Fitbit, but what did I know about trackers anyway? I was happy just to get one!
Because work requires me to be on my feet, walking around for much of the day, I got used to carrying my phone around with me to tell the time. It was a bit of a nuisance because my phone is big and doesn’t fit well in my pockets. Once I started wearing my fitness tracker, I could leave my phone behind while challenging myself. It’s a win-win if you ask me!
Lately I’ve been thinking about upgrading. It’s time. Not to say I don’t like my tracker, because I do, but I want something with more bells and whistles. Who doesn’t like more bells and whistles? While my current tracker is great in tracking steps and burned calories, I want something that would also track how many stairs I climb climbing as well as the different exercises I do. My current tracker only tracks steps and not any other workout so it’s hard to accurately track my progress.
I started doing some research in finding a tracker that would be a little more elaborate with more features, but there here is just so much information out there! Everything from functionality to coloured wrist bands was plastered all over my screen. I quickly became overwhelmed. I mean, I want a new tracker, but I’m not willing to give up my days researching.
Through my mundane research, I came across an article on Reviews.com (http://www.reviews.com/fitness-tracker/). There it was: all the information I needed on one single page.
The site had a bunch of good reviews and really helped me nail down some choices, because apparently there are quite a few choices out there.
So, if you’re looking to track your fitness regiment a little closer, I find trackers can be helpful in reaching your fitness goals.
Good luck and keep active!
When we moved into our house nearly four years ago, I told my husband I needed a treadmill and some weights so that I can create my own “gym” in one of the extra rooms in the basement. I didn’t want to pay for a gym membership as I knew working out at home would be easier for me, especially with a kid. I also know me and leaving the house to go to the gym can be a mission.
Soon after we moved in, we set up my own “gym” in the basement. I say “my” because I use it 98% more than my husband does.
We filled the room with a treadmill, some weights, and a television. Now I have no excuse. It’s all there. I can’t use the excuse of not being able to get to the gym because it’s in the basement.
Working out feeds my soul and my mind. No, I don’t love working out, but it’s something I need to do. Because I live with body-dysmorphia disorder (BDD) and anxiety, having access at home is pretty necessary for me. There’s nothing I can’t do at home that I can do at the gym. My workouts are simple but do what they need to do.
My workouts include:
5 minutes of running on the treadmill at 1.0 incline and 5.0 speed.
Weights/Strength, which involve 1 arm, 1 leg, and 1 ab exercise. These are different day-to-day
20-30 minutes of one of 3 programs on treadmill, never doing the same one twice in a row
4 minutes of Stretching
I try to do this routine about 3 to 5 times a week, depending on my schedule. It’s important I keep it up as I notice a difference in my moods when I start lagging.
Yes, I work out for my sanity. I work out to put a stop to my negative self-talk about my body. I work out to feed my soul and my mind.
For more on Smart Living, check out: The Search for a New Fitness Tracker to Reach My Fitness Goals
