Back in the day, who cares what we weigh?

More wistful thoughts about days gone by and those lean bodies we used to own and take for granted. So I thought I'd share this fun picture I recently unearthed of me with my wonderful high school pal, Ann ... circa 1971. Apparently we were in a surfer themed Homecoming Parade, although neither one of us can recall this. (These bewildering blank moments will happen to you too someday, young readers.) See the really pretty girl on the left with the terrific smile and the legs that go forever? Yeah that's not me.

Weeeee, it's been a busy week with some kitchen remodeling, landscape design and our precious 12 year old lab, Angel, in for surgery. Not much time for blogging but not much to report anyway. Our weight loss progress has really slooooowed down the past couple of weeks. We've got the plateau blues, when your body hunkers down and says, "dude, are you serious about this thing?" And we say, "hell yes, why is that even a question?" And your body says, "meh, just not feelin' it." And we hurl f-bombs at the scale all week.

So between Mike and me this week? Just 4 stinkin' sticks of butter, i.e. 1/2 lb. each. Phtt. At least we're going in the right direction, so we'll take it. But wait! Look at the Meltdown Meter! We've now tipped the scales past the halfway point ... 65 sticks melted and 63 sticks to go! OK, feeling better now.

Oh, and I lied before when I said I felt all empowered and whatever when I ordered that salad entree in a restaurant back in August. Because we had to eat dinner out several nights this week as our kitchen was inoperable and, well ... let's just say my entrees were not even remotely green. Sorry, dear ol' college roommate Katie, who offered sage advice about checking out the restaurant menu online beforehand, thereby pre-planning the healthiest choice. I have disgraced you.

You think that might have something to do with my nary-a-pound weight loss? Naaaaaah.

Suck it up.

See that gooey, lumpy stuff right there? That's Mike's little secret weapon. It's called Natto. A Japanese, um ... not even sure what to call it ... food? Essentially it's fermented soy beans which have all kinds of healthy benefits. It's commonly eaten for breakfast in Japan and is a great source of protein and vitamin B2. Good for the skin, osteoporosis, and the prevention of heart attacks, strokes and blood clots.

Still, I'm not feelin' it. You mix up the container of soy beans with this little packet of sticky stuff consisting of sesame oil and hot mustard ... stir it and stir it until it gets all gooey and glue-ish and then you slurp and suck it up really fast. Like, schluuuuuuuuup. That's right, schluuuuuuuuup. Apparently this is the way the Japanese eat it, with this sucking technique. And then Mike always makes a little finishing-up schlup-up-up sound, a la Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs: "... and with a nice little Chianti." Schlup-up-up.

Did I mention that Natto stinks to high heaven? It's so foul that I can't even think of a comparison but man, I cannot even be around when Mike is schluuuping. Straight from the vomitorium, seems to me. "Try it," he says. Uh, tempting-but-no.

If anyone else is oh-so-brave and would like to try this nasty yet nutritious Natto, it can be found in Japanese specialty food stores. Look for this red label, the one with the bloated, rosy-cheeked geisha with the ... two bullet holes in her forehead?????

Need I say more?

P.S. We're almost halfway there!

The Tortoise and the Hare

In honor of our buttery blog, I ate buttery things last weekend. Yeah.

I can explain.

Labor Day was also Mike's birthday and so we went over to daughter Elizabeth's fancy new digs and had a wonderful dinner party. Yep, that's the b-day boy with our gorgeous Elizabeth pictured above. We prepared a healthy menu of baked salmon, tossed green salad, 3 low-cal deli salads and dinner rolls. Now, the salmon marinade did have some butter in it (okay, some brown sugar too) but Mike, being positively militant about the diet (not a carb speck, not a micro-gram of fat, not a granule of sugar, heaven forbid!), was prepared a separate boring, bland piece of grilled salmon. Did I have the marinaded salmon? Yes. Did Mike have a buttered roll? No. Did I? Yes. Did Mike have a beer? Did I? No and no.

Wait. That's not all. I'm coming clean here. I asked Mike if he would like a birthday carrot cake, his fav, and suggested that maybe he could just have a harmless teensy sliver on this special occasion. But no. I explained that his other guests might like some dessert. (Whaat! I said other guests!) Too bad, no carrot cake. So I decided to make some of those little individual pocket pies, apple and cherry, for the other guests, you know. I'd bought a cute pocket pie press awhile back and kind of wanted to try it out. Shut UP! They are so hard to make! Half of them fell apart (and semi resembled cow patties) but our guests actually seemed to like them. Did I have one? HELL yes, after spending 3 hours on those expletive, expletive little suckers. Busted! Giddy and guilty all at once, as the photo below illustrates. Oh, did I mention that I make my own pie crust from butter? Yeah.


So I had a free day, alright? Mike and I are the tortoise and the hare. He'll certainly make it to the finish line first due to his (disgusting) self control, but I will get there eventually at my own glacial pace. I need to do this peu 'a peu, like French women do. Little by little. I can't go cold turkey like Mike, but more power to him! I have to approach this in ways that will help me to gradually adopt healthy eating habits I can live with and stick with, otherwise all that deprivation will surely make me fall off the wagon. But go figure ... despite my buttery meal, I lost almost 3 lbs. this week, my most successful week so far! Hmmph! I rest my case.

Have I justified my cheatin' enough for you???

So here's the current score:
The Tortoise - 6 lbs. lost, or 24 sticks of butter
The Hare - 7 lbs. lost, or 28 sticks of butter

That was then and this is now. Unfortunately.

Despite the fact that we see ourselves as forever young in our delusional little brains, it just ain't so. Our once resilient bodies and our fast running metabolisms have changed drastically and to us, it seems like overnight. Who's the cute dude to the left? Mr. Melter of 64 sticks of butter, at a pretty good clip, I might add. Yep, that's Mike at UC Berkeley, circa 1978. That was then.

And this is now. We don't look like we used to and we can't eat like we used to. It's hard to accept. Where's the magic bullet that can make this whole shift in metabolism easier?

Ice cream, french fries, cheeseburgers, beer and more ... once devoured without a care in the world or one ounce gained, are now off limits. Well, for the most part. And the bod ... well, gone are the blond locks (the shag) and the mini skirt legs. Long gone. Now I wonder what's up with these road maps on my legs and this dry, dry, dry fire hazard of a haystack on my head? And the baggy knees? I need a knee lift, fercrissake.

Back in the day, most of us sailed through the 70s on zero exercise, (gyms hadn't been invented yet, am I right people?) all-nighters involving kegs of beer, followed by late night runs to Jack in the Box. Fast forward to midlife: now those late night runs are to the bathroom, the beer is replaced by Metamucil and the all-nighters are, up-all-night-waiting-for-kids-to-pull-safely-into-the-driveway, preferably not having spent the evening behaving as we did at their age. Are you with me?

Recently Mike had his annual physical and he talked to his doctor about controlling his cholesterol. Because of side effects Mike can't take statin drugs to lower it, so he asked the question, "then how can you control it?" Doc's answer: You control very simply with a healthy diet and consistent exercise. (Doc actually recommends a Mediterranean diet.) So that's IT? Diet and exercise? Well, we already know that, right? Magic bullet, please. Hmm, you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that the magic bullet is Acceptance with a capital A. That we finally, finally Accept the fact that we must, must control our health with good diet and consistent exercise. "But we don't wanna," we all wail. I know, but this is now.

No, we're not the beer swilling college kids we once were. We can't pound drinks, give in to late night munchies, or do any number of things we used to do. Aww man, who wants to go back there anyway? That was then. Let's move forward. Are you with me?

But hell, all this talk makes me wanna get a JITB Super Taco. Just kidding. Sorta.