As I chew blueberry salt water taffy

Here's the thing. I actually don't even like taffy of any kind because it hurts my teeth and is just a little too much sweet. But my parents keep candy in the middle of the eating table and when you are pacing absent mindedly, waiting for the printer to warm up to print your boarding passes for a 5 o'clock flight, it's difficult not to just pop a taffy in your mouth. Which reminds me of a sage piece of advice my nutritionist gave me at our first meeting: don't depend on willpower. Change your environment.

I think part of my problem with this trip is my environment. As I was packing my suitcase just now, I noticed that my body felt heavy and exhausted, my left hip aching from a troublesome, tugging walk with the dog. I feel, as I'm remembering is often the case after a visit with my parents, run-down.

The first few days I was here, I had the chance to visit with my grandmother, who I hadn't been able to see in a few years. While I hung out on the deck and threw balls for Lady, she teetered around conversations about my sister's wedding (which has been postponed a year) and my personal life. Joining us one evening at the picnic table, my mom asked about Cat's family (Cat is my partner, someone my parents are getting used to, or so I thought). I excitedly chatted about the newest information we had recieved, the pregnancy of Cat's sister-in-law. And how excited we were to be aunts. "Well, now" says my Grandmother, with her lips upturned, "how are you going to be an aunt?" I hesitated for a moment before my mom jumped in, "Because they consider her part of the family, ma." My mom was on my side.

Later that evening, my grandmothers asked, "So you don't have any significant other in your life, do you?" To which I replied, "Of course I do. Cat." My mom changed the subject. She seemed to be middling between teams.

A night later, the news was showing a lesbian wedding to mark the beginning of legalized gay marriage in New York. My grandmother under her breath, shaking her head, "Now, that's disgusting. That's just silly." I leave the room. I come back with a snack.

While visiting my Aunt in Boston and touring the new American wing at the MFA, I think that the homophobia is out of bounds for now. Safely dropped off in Vermont. As my parents, aunt, and I are leaving the MFA, we get approached by an adorable young queer asking us to support marriage equality. My parents breeze on by. My aunt says, pointing her finger at me, "Oh, she will." And stands beside me while I sign a petition. As we leave to catch up with my parents, she says, "Now, aren't you proud. I've come a long way, haven't I?"

Finally, two nights ago, my sister, parents and I are going through my other grandmother's jewelry. She didn't have much, mostly just costume beads from TJ Maxx but somewhere along the line, she had gotten a string of pearls. Those went to my first sister for her wedding. My other sister got her cedar chest as her wedding present. Around the desk, my sister asks aboutmy grandmother's engagement ring. My dad said something about getting the stone set in something else, perhaps a tie-tack as he made gestures with his fingers around breastbone. I said, "Someone should get it as a ring." "That's just it," he said. "It's an engagement ring. No one needs an engagement ring. And besides, these things are typically past down to grandsons to propose. We don't have any." I didn't think. "I can use it to propose." I'm near tears at this point. I really just want something of my grandmother's, whose memorial I missed a few weeks ago because I couldn't afford to change my flight. "That won't be happening," says my dad, the topic final. The ring to be reset. My marriage, if Cat and I ever decide we want to invest in that institution, unadorned.

And I think that these conversations are just part of the visit. I prepare ahead of time for them. I brace myself. And I realize that all the bracing is why my body feels heavy, hurting-- in time for Project 28 to officially begin tomorrow.

Corn has been Converted

So I'm a bit more than halfway through my trip and there have definitely been stumbling blocks to my project (which doesn't officially start until Saturday) but some successes as well. Being in my parents house again for the first time in a few years is hard--I haven't seen a single green thing in the fridge since I arrived. The first night here, my mom drafted me into a church italian dinner, something their church does every summer to raise money and serve families who are camping in the southern maine woods a hot meal. My mom said before hand, "There will be lots of really good pasta" to which I replied, "will there be any vegetables?" "Oh yes! They always make a big green salad!" The "big green salad" serving was less than a cup's worth of iceburg lettuce with shredded carrot. Mom was excited when we got to bring the leftovers home.

Tonight my mom is planning to make some kebobs and asked me if there was anything else I wanted with them. It's kind of fun being a "guest" in my parent's house because I get a moderate say in dinner. I said, "What about some vegetables?" And she said, "Oh, I was thinking I would go to the market and get some fresh corn." I just looked at her. I waited to see if she would come up with another option. "Oh right," she said. "Corn isn't a vegetable anymore." As if corn has been converted. As if it was once green and rich in iron.

What's been most tricky about my trip is the actual act of traveling. I've been on a long car ride to bring my grandmother back to her home in Vermont, on the Downeaster Train to visit my Aunt in Boston, and of course, a couple of flights where I've spent more time in airports on weather delay than actually in the air. This has caused a consistent dull ache on the outside of my hips, despite the prescription naproxen I've been taking. While I've tried to get some physical therapy in (which is minimal because I didn't travel with my balance ball and because my parents small Cape home doesn't have the floor space to really stretch out), it's hard to become motivated with the aching. I've still tried to keep my activity up with walking the dog and a few trips and swims in the ocean but I know it's not the level I get when I'm home.

And I'm pretty sure the reason my pee smells like salt water is because of the amount of fried clams I've been eating. But it's vacation and I've been waiting 18 months for good seafood. And I'm reminding myself that Project 28 is about balance, not restriction. This blog is a way to find balance. Balance is a work in progress, breaded clams, seafood chowder, fresh corn, and all.

Maine: The Way Life Should Be

Those of you who know me, know that I have been suffering through a five week intensive Spanish course to finish up my language requirement. I took the final today which means tomorrow morning I am on a plane home to spend time with my family for the first time in 18 months. So of course the question arises: how will six days outside of my "routine" change how I eat and workout?

My family has a weird relationship with food. I don't think it's much weirder than most Americans' relationships with consumption, particularly working-class Americans, but it is worth thinking about before I leave. My father is huge. He used to be huge and fit--a 3 times/week swimmer at the local YMCA but he hasn't done that since I was 14 and we moved to Maine (where there was difficulty finding an accessible, affordable pool membership). My mom is terrified of water but walks. She's also a public school teacher so she has a job that is relatively active. She had her slimfast periods during my childhood and both my parents went on Atkins while I was in college. Last year, my mom found out she was diabetic, which runs throughout the maternal side of her family. She was able to lose a few pounds (going from a 12/14 pant size to more like a 10/12) and with some attention to sugar consumption, she maintains her health without insulin. But she's never been huge. She's regular American-size.

At dinner, my family eats in silence.

My mom tells people to "finish what's on the table" because "it's not enough to put away". She grew up on hodge-podges of leftovers in a working-poor, sometimes-homeless, single-mom household with french-canadian food (read: meat pies, maple syrup, stuff with gravy and potato). Not a green vegetable in sight.

And of course, dessert is the way we reward each other.

It's also how we know we are not economically desperate.

My family knows I eat differently than they do. I eat primarily vegetarian and have been much stricter about it in the past (a year ago I figured out I was allergic to processed soy products like Morning Star stuff so I have been incorporating more fish and some chicken into my diet). They also know I try to be active.

But the house is small. Too small to work out in.
The fridge is still light on fresh veggies and fruit.

And my dad and I have pretty much one thing in common (I'm a lesbian, he's an evangelical preacher): black coffee. And coffee makes you hungry. And goes well with sugar.

So in the next week, I will work on not giving up but not obsessing. And return in time to celebrate my 28th birthday.

Reflections on my First (Fake) Weekend

I'm pretending like I'm not really starting until another week and a half or so--for now I am just getting used to my meal plan and trying to get to the gym for swimming and eliptical as much as possible (this week I made it twice-- thirty mins total swimming laps and 60 on the eliptical-- and did another balance ball workout at home on Saturday when I was otherwise too swamped to leave my house). August 1st will be my official start but I have to say, my meal plan is working out great so far. I've just about followed it since I was given it on Monday with an exception of yesterday evening.

I have a feeling weekends will be the hardest because a. I like to eat brunch and b. I like to have cocktails with friends. Here's how I managed this weekend:

On friday night I met up with a group of grad school colleagues for happy hour. I rocked it Ramona-style with two glasses of pinot grigio and prepared by taking out two of my three fruit servings for the day. My feeling is I can miss a couple of fruits if I only have drinks once or twice a week. It's also a good excuse not to drink as much--who wants to miss out on the fiber and vitamins of fresh summer berries or chilled clementines?

On Saturday night, I went to a bbq with a mixed group of people I knew from school and several new people I met there. I tagged along with two of my besties who don't drink which made it easier for me to decide not to drink. I have to admit, though, because it was a group I didn't know super well, my go-to strategy for socializing would have been a couple mixed drinks or a bottle of wine. I found I was a little more reserved because I didn't drink but I also found that I really enjoyed absorbing the conversations around me without feeling the pressing need to contribute. I ended up staying longer than I anticipated which meant that while I had prepared my meal plan for dinner at the party, I ended up with a little late-night snacking. Something to work on in the future.

Frankly, I was tired and relieved to get home and go to bed rested and not tipsy. There was a time when I would have been so rigid about following my meal plan that a night like last would have sent me completely off the wagon, so to speak, but today I am patting myself on the back for a job well done.

This is just my quick update for now because I have a Spanish final to begin preparing for and a house to clean since my partner comes home from visiting her family tomorrow afternoon.

This entry feels a little boring but I wanted to work toward making this blog a combination of some of my strategizing and some self-reflection. I'll do a bit more reflection next time. :)

Thanks for reading!

The Beginning

15 days from now, I turn 28.

But I'm not starting this project because of my birthday. I'm starting this project because of the New Year.

On January 1st, I was at the gym with my partner and weighed in at 40 pounds more than my ideal weight range. This was after spending the fall cultivating a 2-3 day/week gym habit. But I wasn't shaking the weight, what I like to refer to as my MA 20 and Recession 10.

For Christmas, I bought my partner and I Krav Maga intro lessons. We got started in mid-January. We signed up for a six month membership. She was thrilled. I thought that learning something new would keep me motivated, help me move beyond the eliptical-weight-machine monotony. I needed the something.

The truth is, I read for a living. I get paid (minimally--I'm a PhD student) to sit on my ass, think, write, read, repeat. I love what I do. But the more I do it, the more I realize--given karpal tunnel, shoulder aches, neck stiffness, bleary eyes--that what I do is incredibly physical. Just not physically active.

So my partner and I got to kick each other's ass for 60 minutes two days a week. I've never been an athlete (read: German Club member, high school newpaper editor) so I didn't know what this kind of physical instruction could look like. After a few weeks, I was impressed with how hard I could be pushed physically.

But the bruises were killing me.

And so were my hips. I had a chronic dull ache in my hip joints since 2005, which I remember because it began to really bother me the summer I was an assistant girl scout camp director in Alaska. Mountains, glaciers, ache, bears, moose, ache.

Around the first of April, I woke up and could barely walk. Pain was shooting up and down my left leg. My back felt like my joints were jammed into the wrong socket.

I found out my health insurance covered PT. At a physical therapy evaluation, they gave me presciption pain killers, suggested a diagnosis of osteitis pubis, and prescribed total rest for a month before beginning a PT schedule. I had already lost 17 pounds.

And they told me Krav Maga was the worst possible thing for me.

I gained back 7 pounds.

This week I went to nutritionist. Then I went to my PT. Both suggested a weight loss of between 25-28 pounds to help with my general mobility. But my exercise is still limited. I can do some swimming, eliptical without reisistence, walking, and short bike rides.

So this is the beginning of a new six month journey: 28 pounds in the first half of my 28th year.

You'll find out more about me as I continue to write. I'm hoping this blog will keep me motivated and energized and make this process a bit more fun.

Oh, and another thing: in six months, I take my Comprehensive Exams. Between now and then, I have 186 books and articles to read and annotate.....