The Pale, Paler, Palest Diet

So, I'm not feeling good.  Not good at all.  But then, as the charming Dr Sepp Fegerl (the clinic's medical director) says, 'If you want to feel better, you have to feel worse to begin with.'  The Mayr Cure goes deep, it seems, and plucks out all kinds of old nonsense from the body.

So, today, as he massaged my poor groaning abdomen, he told me about the 75 year old woman who spontaneously had LSD flashback while undergoing the Mayr.  And a similarly aged man who was mightily alarmed when he looked in the loo and saw he'd passed something that looked like a long red tube.  It turned out to be something he'd swallowed when he was a child.

And then he smiled (Dr Fegerl, not the guy who'd swallowed the tube).  'Of course, if it's not the right time for you, or it's all too much, we can back off; you don't have to do it now.'

Yeah, well, you know me.  I accept most challenges.  Not eating much doesn't bother me at all.  But it's a bit demoralising when the choices get smaller and smaller each day.

It started off so well - with a pretty solid breakfast of omelette, manchego cheese and spelt roll.  A bit anaemic but hey...  Because it's Viva Mayr you're supposed to eat in silence (so you're mindful of what you're eating) and you are supposed to chew each mouthful as many times as possible (the aim is 40 chews per mouthful).  Why?  Because digestion begins in the mouth so you need to unleash as much saliva as possible.  And also because this can be the last opportunity for certain cell membranes to be broken down.  Don't chew your peas properly and they will just pass through more or less undigested.

Here's lunch...a small (very small) bowl of soup, a jaw-breaking buckwheat roll and two slivers of Camembert. Curiously, the Mayr Cure includes dairy produce and even red  meat on its cure.  So, fine, if a tad bland.  And not exactly a colourful plate, eh?

And for supper?  Mayr firmly holds to the principle that you don't eat much in the evening.  So supper kicks off at 5pm (and the kitchen closes up at 6.30pm) and, in my case, consisted of herbal tea and, er...no, not dog biscuits...or even dog turds...but soy bread.

Which was all well and good until Dr Fegerl tested me for food intolerances and wiped out eggs, cheese and yoghurt.  So, given I don't eat meat and fish...my choices were getting more and more limited, and more and more bland.

And, after that...well...it got a bit pale...

 And paler...

 And the palest.

Forget the Paleo Diet...this is the Pale, Paler, Palest Diet.  Yummy.

Move it, shake it (more weight loss shenanigans)

www.wisewellwoman.com

There is a whole host more to talk about with regard to food/not food, drink/not drink but let’s leave that to one side for the moment.  There was also another big factor or six that kicked my issues with food right into touch but I don’t want to scare you off too soon.  So let’s stick to the tangible stuff for now.  Baby steps, eh?

Next step (ho ho)...  Exercise.

Truly our bodies are built to move. We weren’t designed to sit at desks all day; to slump on sofas. If you want to be fit and healthy, to be strong and slim, you don’t just need to look at what you put into your body but also how you use it; at calories out as well as calories in. 

*sigh* Maybe in my next life, eh?  :)

I’ve had a love-hate relationship with exercise all my life.  When I was at school I used to dread Wednesdays with every ounce of my eleven-year old being. Wednesday meant gym and gym meant ritual humiliation in front of thirty-odd classmates. Try as I might, I couldn’t do a handstand, let alone a cartwheel (though, weird thing, I can do them perfectly in my head).  The vault could have been a skyscraper. None of it helped, of course, by having to wear thick navy cotton knickers (oh guys, come on! How could you do that to teenage girls??) 

So, despite being a pretty good squash player and quite nifty on the netball court; despite cycling up killer hills and doing extreme outdoor challenges in the mountains, I dubbed myself a failure at sport. I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one and that many of us cite school sport fear and loathing as part of the reason why we don't do any exercise at all.

BIG MISTAKE.

Seriously.  I said I wasn’t going to lecture and that I wasn’t going to tell you what to do but honestly, if you want to look and feel great, you simply gotta get moving. One way or another. I don’t care what you do – just do something!  C’mon, you don’t need me to tell you why. Exercise keeps our hearts and lungs working as they should and helps prevent cardio-vascular disease. Stress levels plummet after a good hard workout or game of sport (stress hormone levels are allowed to return to their resting levels and feelgood hormones are boosted).  Regular exercise helps control blood pressure; boosts our immune system; keeps a whole pile of diseases at arms’ length; soothes our sleep patterns and boosts our sex lives. Weight-bearing exercise can help stave off osteoporosis and so on and so forth.

And yes, if you’re using up calories with exercise it’s far easier to lose weight. 

If you Google my husband's name, this comes up!

Honestly, there really aren’t many good reasons or excuses for not exercising. A few health conditions make it difficult (and in some cases impossible) but generally a good fitness instructor can tailor a routine for pretty much anyone.  Some systems – like chi gung for example – can even be adapted for people who can’t get out of a chair. Can’t afford the gym or fitness classes? Walking, running, dancing, swimming in the wild, playing games with your children are all free. 

But anyhow, it’s up to you. All I can say is that it works for me. What I did in this past crazy year was to try out a whole bunch of stuff, to find out, for the first time, what I really enjoyed doing.  First stop was the gym.  We have a (tiny) gym here in Dulverton, literally two minutes from the house, yet I’d never been.  Why?  I dunno.  So I started getting my cardio fitness back on the bike, on the cross-trainer, the rower, the treadmill.  Got back to lifting weights.  It was tough at first but I took it slow, had a programme I followed, and gradually it got easier.  I'm lucky in that my mate Trisha works there and she loves nothing more than challenging us to do new stuff - like the form of extreme masochism that goes under the name of TRX and the frothy joy of super sets. Can I promise you something?  Gyms aren't scary. Really - not the good ones. And, as Frankie points out, you won't go bulky by using weights - it's a fallacy.

No! It won't! www.stumptuous.com - check it out

But I also love working out with other people, to music, so I added in some classes.  After a bit of trial and error (nope, I will never be a belly dancer and nope I still hate jazz so jazzercise is not an option; circuits are okay; Pilates so-so) I found the mix that worked for me. 

TRX - this is EVIL! But fun... :)

So now I do Zumba twice a week because it is, quite simply, the best fun ever. It’s a great all-body workout, sexy as hell, and it’s the one and only thing that has ever really sorted out for good and proper the back pain I used to get from spending most of  my day hunched over a desk.  Then I do Kettlercise twice a week too – usually outdoors by the river – because slinging a kettlebell is also great fun as well as a stunning workout and we have one helluva laugh.  Then, of course, I walk the SP and Exmoor isn’t exactly known for being flat so that’s a workout in itself.

Yes, I do a lot of exercise.  At least an hour a day; more if I can.  I’ll use any chance I can to get my body moving. On the rare occasions I cook or do housework, I shove on some dance music and fling myself around. On the rare occasions I watch TV I usually sit on the fitball and do a few weights while I’m there.  Or I get down on the carpet and plonk myself into Plank in front of the fire. J

Why? Because I enjoy it and I love how it makes me feel. I can get high as a kite on endorphins when I exercise. Crazy high. Better than any drink or drugs. Honesty also compels me to say I love how it makes me look.  Cutting calories in food will make you lose weight; it may make you slim. But exercise will make you toned.  And, by heck, do I love toned.  As I’ve said before, I don’t want a skinny body; I want a seriously strong, sensual body.  Working out has given me seriously toned muscles.  Go on, have a prod - my thighs are rock-hard!  Okay, so I’m not totally there yet – the washboard stomach is still more in my head than in my abs.  But one day…

What does my quasi-guru do? He's far more of a back to basics guy: he runs, swims and plays extreme Mario Kart with his son. Plus yoga (which is worth a whole post all to itself, so that is what it will get). Plus something else which we’ll talk about in more detail in a day or so... J 


btw, do read the comments - Frankie has added a lot of really useful links that you may like to follow...  Thanks, Frankie. xx

How I became a sour-faced spoilsport boring goody-two-shoes

What else did I give up in the Labyrinth?  Yeah, yeah, apart from my sanity (ho ho).  J

Alcohol.  

Jeez, I can hear you (no need to shout, honestly) – what a bloody miserable goody two-shoes she’s becoming.  Now, don’t get me wrong. I love alcohol.  Well, I love spirits. And the spirits love me.  I had my first gin aged about ten and I could probably still drink most guys under the table providing we stuck to the hard stuff. Wine and beer? Not so much. Mix ‘em and it gets pretty nasty. 

Alcohol has run through my life like a narcotic river.  My father was apparently an alcoholic, though a functioning one. I don’t remember him drunk; only sad. But while he went down the pub, my mother went hungry and we didn't get shoes. When he ran out of money, he brewed his own beer and the smell of malt and hops still makes me a bit queasy to this day. Yup, I’m married to a man who makes his living from the stuff – the irony is not lost.

I’ve known a few people who have battled with booze and lost the fight, losing themselves along with their work, their homes, their families, their friends, their dignity. Others came out the other side of the bar and are stronger, more honest people for it. I admire them enormously.  People joke about alcohol - time and again I've heard people laughing their heads off saying, 'Oh, I'm such an alcoholic!' like it's fun, like it's a smart thing. It ain't. It's losing your hair and killing your liver; it's vomit and piss and tears and bloody anguish. Don't ever joke about alcoholism.

Of course not everyone becomes an alcoholic, no matter how much they drink. My second father, Big Black Erik the Aboriginal Viking, drank like a bloody fish and did some pretty wild things under the influence but he could give it up pretty much any time. That was me too.  At that early point in the Labyrinth I don’t think I even talked to Marek about alcohol – he just said he didn’t drink (apart from virtually, of course) but he talks about it in more detail (and with extreme honesty) in Symphonic Bridges.

I can hear the voices again (I really need ear-plugs). Don’t be such a sour-puss, don’t be such a spoilsport.  And again, I’d say, I’m not saying you shouldn’t drink. I’m just telling you what I’ve been up to this last year and why I made the choices I did.

Possessed or pissed? Hard to tell, huh?

When we get drunk we get possessed, we really do.  We let down the barriers. The occultists say that you should never get seriously drunk because your aura becomes leaky and the spirits (yeah) can hop in and hitch a ride. A Jungian would say that being drunk lets out your shadow  (no real surprise that people pick fights or screw around when they're pissed).  A shaman would say you may meet the ally – which can be either very good or very bad (typical bloody shamans – fecking infuriating. But we’ll talk about that later).

Yes she did look like that!

When I think back to the things I did when I was drunk, I really wince.  Admittedly I was young but still….aaghhh.  Taking off petrol caps and tossing in lit matches?  Smart huh?  Jumping into the Thames at midnight in the middle of winter with snow on the ground?  Smashing my fist through a window?  Lying comatose on the floor so a passing log broke my hand in so many places they couldn't even begin to set it? Picking fights with guys four times my size in dodgy clubs? Waking up in a strange bed and talking to a poster of Farrah Fawcett-Major because I hallucinated it as my friend Sig?  Waking up in my own bed with absolutely no idea how I got there because the last thing I could remember was…no, I really couldn’t remember.  I couldn’t even move my head.  All I could do was look directly upwards and watch my bra swinging gently on the overhead light in the breeze from the open window.  I couldn’t even turn my head to see if I had anyone else in bed with me.

When I think back I was bloody lucky I never ended up raped or dead. 

But hey, you’re saying, that’s all very interesting and didn't we all do crazy things when we were young but now we’re all sensible grown-ups we drink in moderation, don’t we? We chill out with a few glasses of wine after a tough day in the office; we have a civilised G&T at “gin o’clock”. It’s sociable; it’s civilised; it helps us relax and it’s fun.

Well, it depends. It depends how you use alcohol and what you want from it and from your life.

For me, alcohol had become another deadener.  Another way to opt out. Another distraction, another diversion, another way not to face what was going on (or rather what was being denied) in my head, in my life.  It was acting as a narcotic and an analgesic.  When I downed a few glasses of wine it took the edges off; it numbed the tedium.  And I didn’t want that anymore.  I needed to see clearly.  I needed to feel acutely.

Because I was lucky enough not to be addicted to alcohol, my self-prescribed ‘ban’ hasn’t been total. I have had a few drinks this year, for various reasons – once in Stoke Newington; once with Lizzy; once at shabbat in Tel Aviv and once…but that’s another story… J.  And I’m not saying I’ll never drink not never again.  Sometimes it does no harm to disorder the senses a bit, to shake the tree.  But generally, no. 

Have there been consequences for me?  Quite a few…  Let’s have a look…

Advantages of not drinking:

No hangovers

Skin becomes much softer (less de-hydrated)

Eyes become clear and bright – goodbye to that fetching bloodshot look

Tongue loses that furry covering (actually that’s a bit of a disadvantage too as I kinda loved scraping that off).

Mood evens out. Yup, alcohol is a depressant to the central nervous system.

Weight loss. Oh yeah, alcohol packs a hefty calorific punch and you also need to take into account the nibbles you eat while you’re drinking and the big fat takeaway that calls to you as you leave the pub.

People dump you. Seriously, it’s the best way to find out who your real friends are.

You see clearly.

Disadvantages of not drinking:

You see clearly. 

How I lost four stone - without trying

There is so much to say, so much that is mad and magical and sheer fecking fun!  Really. Not really. There is nothing and there is everything. There is reality and unreality. There is sorcery and alchemy and dancing and music and and and…  But I know what you want, what you really really want… (well, so many of you).  Midlifesinglemum said it yesterday:

Could we have the how to lose four stone post quite soon please. Ta

Weight loss eh?  The holy grail of Western society.  It will come of course – mechanically, chemically – at some point. Scientists will develop food that provides taste and bulk and mouth feel with zero calories.  Nanobots will scurry away fat. In the meantime, of course, you can cut it away or you can have a band or a balloon inserted that will make it nigh-on impossible to stuff yourself.   But if you don’t want to wait and you don’t want or can’t afford surgery?  

Okay, so you want to know how I lost weight, right?  Well, there’s good news and bad news.

Good news?  It was really easy.

Bad news? You probably wouldn’t want to do it. 

You really really want to know how I lost weight? How I dropped, what? About three stone in four months, or somewhere about that...(I forget, to be honest) and then another one after that. Easily. Effortlessly.
I stopped eating. 

Okay, I did eat…but not much. Because, simply put, I was eating WAY too much.

But honestly, that was it.  Calories in; calories out. 

But... but... but... but... BUT... BUT!!!…..  

It’s okay, I can hear you. J  I understand.  Cos that was me shouting but but but – for pretty well all my life.  Read back through my old blog posts if you don’t believe me.

What did my ‘buts’ used to say?  I love food! I eat barely anything and still put on weight! It’s my hormones; my metabolism; my bone structure, my ayurvedic prakruti for pity's sake!  I have to cook for other people. Other people cook for me. I take medication which makes me fat. I have a condition which makes me fat.  Etc etc etc.

Yes, there are conditions and foods that will make it harder to lose weight (and we’ll talk about that later) and there are the odd exceptions *flurry of hands waving*.  But, let’s just accept for now that if you have a lot of weight to lose (I'm not talking about the odd few pounds) the vast majority of us could lose it by eating less - if we choose?  If I've lost you here, then that's fine - there are a gazillion sites out there that will talk about hidden reasons and the fine-tuning. I went looking for a good one that would give you all the science and wotnot without charging you for the privilege but that proved tricky. Feel free to post any links in the comments... 

For those still here, shall we assume it’s mental?  That it’s our minds telling our bodies they need too much food (actually I’d say the two are pretty entangled, but let’s keep it simple right now eh?). So what do you do? 

I have no idea! 

Because I’m not you. And I’m not a diet guru, thank feck!  I can tell you what I did and I will, and - if you’re interested - you're welcome to listen.  But please, it’s what I did. It’s what I thought or didn’t think.  It is different for you. I can’t take responsibility for your body.  Nobody can.  Just you. 

I spent years making excuses for not having a slim healthy fit body. YEARS. DECADES. I blamed my mother. I blamed my childhood. I blamed my school. I blamed my job. I blamed my first father. I blamed my second father. I blamed my friends. I blamed my boss. I blamed my husband. I blamed my child. I blamed boredom. I blamed fear. I blamed magazines. I blamed TV. I blamed celebrities. I blamed my lack of will-power. I blamed..oh shit, I’m bored of listing what and whom I blamed. You get the picture.

One thing I would just say at this point.  Not losing weight takes a lot of energy. A lot. Not losing weight occupies the mind.  It can be another form of distraction. It can be a way of stopping yourself from focusing on other things that May Be Scary.  Sooo… one thing that could be interesting might be possibly, if you like, if you want, to ask yourself – If I weren’t fat, what might I think, what might I have to confront?  Or not. J

I’ll carry on with this tomorrow.  I would like to make one thing really REALLY clear. In fact, preface any comment you make on this with 'Jane, I understand this is you talking about you. You are not talking about me, and I take full responsibility for my own mind, my own body and my own health.'  

Cos this is not me being the responsible journalist or health writer or whatever. This is just me telling you about my madcap trip.  That’s all.  I am NOT saying do what I did. Let's be honest, it really isn’t the best or safest or most sensible way to lose weight. There are a million people out there who will tell you how to do that, if you want to be told.  If you really want a guru for this, then Pete Cohen ain’t bad…(hey, he even calls himself a guru! What was I saying yesterday about how I hate gurus?  J  Marek talks about it in Symphonic Bridges too of course. Obliquely of course. And you have to dig around a bit - but it is there, somewhen or other.  ;) 

If my secretary (I kept misspelling that as secretally…lol!) turns up for work, he may choose to take questions on this.  I dunno.  J  Or maybe not. 

It's not all about size zero, you know

‘It’s not all about being bloody size zero, you know, Jane,’ said the woman in the pub, stabbing her finger at me. ‘All this diet and exercise stuff you do; it’s not where it’s at. It doesn’t make you happy, you know.’ 

Now, admittedly she was very VERY drunk but it did rather take me aback because she sounded really angry. And it got me thinking.  Yes, I’ve lost a lot of weight over the last year – nigh on fifty pounds.  But it was never about being stick thin; it certainly wasn’t about being size zero (not that I’m anywhere close).  It was simply about not killing myself with food anymore.  I’m still not totally balanced out but I’m getting better; I’m trying.

The exercise stuff I just found I liked. I tried a lot of things and some worked for me; some didn’t. As my pal and fitness instructor Trisha always says, unless you find something you enjoy, you won’t stick with it; it won’t become part of your life.  I enjoy walking the SP cos it frees my head and gets me out in the fields or up in the woods, stroking the trees, kissing the sky, whispering to the river.  And I love yoga cos it shifts my perspective and makes me feel sooooo stretched.  Zumba, oh Zumba, I adore because it’s tough but fun and I can lose myself in the music and, shit, it’s just sexy as hell - plus I haven’t had a day’s backache since I started (cos it shimmies you out like nothing else).  When it comes to the gym, let’s be honest, I spent most of my time chatting with Trisha and when the house is cold, the gym is warm and I can scribble notes on the exercise bike.  Kettlercise?  Well, slugging kettlebells around just  makes me feel…strong.

Yeah, strong.  I love that I have well-defined muscles now – that if I flex my arm I can see those twin mythical beasts, biceps and triceps; that my quads ripple a bit when I walk.  Let’s be very clear here, I’m not talking muscle-bound Ms Universe stuff – just a bit of toned lean muscle.  I’m not entirely there yet and I’m pretty sure my stomach will never be a washboard but I’m starting to feel comfortable in my skin for the first time that I can remember.

But that word - strong.  It took me back to Israel and a woman we met at the Daniel Rowing Centre in Tel Aviv.  Her name was (and, as far I know, still is) Moran Samuel. She was an athlete (a talented basketball player) and a student.  Then, when she was 24, she had a stroke, clean out of the blue, and became paralysed from the chest down.  Suddenly her life was turned upside down and she headed into rehab. Did she give up?  Did she hell.  She went and qualified as a physical therapist, working with children with disabilities.  She returned to playing basketball (in her wheelchair) with the men’s Paralympic team and then, as if she hadn’t already achieved enough, she took up rowing and has recently won a bronze medal in the World Rowing Championship and has a ticket to the 2012 Paralympics. If you want to read her story in words far more eloquent than mine, do visit the Vibe Israel blog here where Sally Whittle tells her story. 

She was wearing a t-shirt when we met her that said simply:

Strong is the new beautiful. 

I like that message. And it struck me it’s one that might not be bad to impart to our children.  Because, while I may not be after a size zero body, a helluva lot of teenage girls are.  And boys aren’t immune either.  They’re trying to disappear, to vanish somehow. Young bodies need to grow strong, they need the nutrients a good healthy diet gives.  We ain’t gonna stop the glossy magazines and fashion designers peddling anorectic models, however much we may wish they would – so it has to come from us as parents.  How do you do it?  I dunno.  Be careful about the messages you give out maybe?  I just wish someone or other had gently nudged me into exercise when I was fourteen, instead of sticking me on a starvation diet.

So no. I know that a size zero body doesn’t bring happiness to anyone.  I know that dieting and exercise doesn’t make one happy per se either.  Happiness is a curious concept and not, to my feeling, a process so much as a glimpse - a moment, a song on the wind, a tug in the heart, a tingle in the gut.  Or maybe not even a noun but a verb – a happying.  But while I wait for my lovely happyings – and come they do – I think I’ll settle for trying strong.  When I'm not feeling weak.  :) What you reckon?

btw, if you live around Exmoor you might like to come along to a day's bootcamp I'm doing with Trisha and another local fitness instructor, Nicola.  See here for details...