FOOD, FAT and FINE BONES

Two hundred and twenty-three dollars at the cash register?!
(Of course it is Whole Foods Store...)
I nearly faint in front of the twenty-something handsome young bag "man" and the even handsomer check-out woman. What did I buy that took up three grocery bags (okay, their bags are slightly taller and wider than Ralphs...) and was supposed to be the entire week's food budget?

Then I realize: I bought a new tea kettle. I bought organic toothpaste. I bought natural tint for my hair. I bought a Father's Day Card...just these items total up to fifty bucks. (But, they ARE weekly essentials in my current lifestyle: how many more Father's Day cards am I going to be purchasing? Hmmmm....) As for the most expensive non-food item, (the kettle) well, over the weekend, on the edge of another panic attack about where my life has landed, I realized, I have to get some control.

The only thing I have control over is what goes into my body, what my body engages in, every day. (Or what my body does NOT engage in, willfully. Mindfully. Wholly.) Writing and painting are two "willful" and fulfilling activities. They are my core survival. The only thing that they take is energy-and supplies. Mind energy, muscle energy, electricity (lights, computer) and perhaps Spirit. What they "give back" is my quality and reason for life. A fair trade, indeed. So all those exchanges stay.

Now, the chemicals I take into my body, in this city, in this building, in this time of our country's history, I am not entirely in control of. But things like toothpaste and hair color have alternatives that are far healthier for me than the on-sale generic brands that contain stuff I know is bad. The gas I use to purchase said items is the same amount I would to buy their uglier counterparts. So, as long as my meager monies hold out, if something goes in or on the body, I have to choose consciously, organic and natural as can be. (I used to think Clairol Herbal Essence Shampoo was the most natural statement I could ever make in the world...oh how far we've come and how far we still have to go!)

I am mindful about not choosing VERY EXPENSIVE organic items, like green toilet paper and wash ups...I just don't have the bucks and am not convinced they really do save a lot of the environment, since, with the t.p., I find that other generic one- ply brands last a helluva lot longer. I use less. (And that has to count in the equation.) Also, by using the wipes, for general cleaning purposes, it is a toss-up in terms of cleaning with effficiency and less waste. (Sometimes, too, the "organic" cleaning products just smell bad.) I tried the salt and vinegar solution and I do use baking soda for a lot of things, but, frankly, I am still in a debate with myself about this level of natural.

Where the biggest answer came from, this weekend, was what was most closely connected to my inner self. (I'm not talking prayer beads and incense, either. ) I'm talking "fats". I'm talking cheap and filling and warm and tasty junk food delights up and down my neighborhood. I'm talking about feeling like a teen just out of college who can't find that first job, who is in a city that is cold, strange and devoid of friends; a teen with no self esteem, no role model close at hand and just at the bottom rung of adult life. A teen in the mood for junk FOOD. (But I'm not a teen...)

This is middle-age. I was getting to the top of the ladder; have just been knocked off. (Yup, not fallen off from my own stupidity or daring, but knocked off by someone bumping the whole ladder! ) So, while it feels EXACTLY like it did, thirty years ago, when I knew nothing (but believed I knew it all--the old cliche), it ISN'T that time. I have to reflect the lessons learned, even if the current landing spot feels similar.

So, first lesson and most personal: what I put into my mouth makes a difference in my life.
(You can take that to whatever extreme you desire.) These days, it mostly means toothpaste, medicine, food and drink. Period. No recreational or mood altering substances. No bodily fluid exchanging, nada but sustenance and indulgence (of a taste-budded kind).

If the only reward one can look forward to, (while one waits on possible employers giving a call-back, or publishers giving a call-forward, or friends and family just giving a call ), is food, then, dammit, guess what happens? (At least, to moi.) Suddenly, mango ice cream and chili dogs are "crack". Coke really is. (Thai food enters the room of my mind, every evening, around midnight.)

The results are devastating. Loss of self-esteem, an ass the size of Kansas, depression, indigestion and lack of sleep, anxiety- attacks, heart-burn, dental worries I can't afford, and continued health-care concerns. It would seem that the most simple answers are the most difficult. Anyone in AA (or NA or any "A" program) gets it...these comforting flavors and activities are not about hunger; they are about filling gaping holes; about trying to control the desperation and the fear that riddles our lives.

Americans are fat because America is in deep doodoo.

In my case, having "fine bones" was a curse. Having genes that were better suited to Norsemen and followers of Braveheart doesn't help. Mixing the two has resulted in this football shaped (in my mind) human being who, while being able to "bounce", hasn't been able to "bounce back" so easily. Food fills time. Food pushes down negativity (for a while). Food conquers that panic of "not enough". Food becomes comforter, kin and finally, conquerer. (Hey, even Oprah "gave up".)

However, as with all addictions, what feels so good can do us in. (And usually in ugly ways.) I have learned this much.

If I want to feel better, look better, fight harder, last longer (get to that next book, that next finished canvas, that new job) then fat has to go. I have to move, every day, out of this loft, into the streets, and keep moving. No excuses. (Replay the Nike commercials as I push.) I have to follow Dr. Ornish into the neighborhood, passing all fast food (and legitimate food stands, too). Too many choices is a definite problem. (Like being a pot head in Amsterdam...every corner offers its own demon delight.) I have to take control in the only place I still have some power--over what gets put into my body--by me.

Foodies be damned--in the most respectable way. (O some of my best buddies are chefs, owners of foodie industries and just good cooks!) I have to focus on reversing fifty-four fat years and take my fine bones back. Fruits and veggies and whole grains. Easy on the nuts and oils--even my beloved avocadoes! (Ugh.) Gone the meats and cheeses--my Soddom and Gomorrah. (Gone the diet sodas and fresh roast coffees, too.) I can reclaim reasonable amounts of pasta--and there is still non-fat yogurt allowed--but those gourmet cupcakes are banished. Maybe, forever.

This is where the Whole Foods budget was really invested: Non-fat soups, legumes, fresher than fresh produce, organic blueberries, strawberries, peaches, fat-free, sugar-free, gluten- free, non-oil dressings, organic spaghetti and house marinara. Oatmeal, soymilk, green tea in every damned flavor on the shelf--and the pricey new kettle.

If I can't take over BP's handling of the oil spill, maybe I can at least take back my life.