Are You Hungry, Bubbie?
Somewhere deep in my Irish soul, where the cellular memory of famine remains vivid, I don't allow myself to become too interested in food. However.
At the same time, I am chief cook and bottle washer in my family. I alone do all of the cooking and washing up. The kitchen is so exclusively my domain that just a few evenings ago, my husband walked into my tiny galley kitchen and, like a houseguest, opened three of the room's four drawers, looking for a spoon. (We've lived here for eight years.)
I loathe cooking, and yet I've cooked at least one complete meal (usually two) every day for 21 years. With a smile on my face. And the meals are good, too.
Every so often I wonder, how did I accomplish this? I guess common sense prevailed. Someone had to do it, and there was no point in doing it badly.
So I taught myself to cook.
I had no bad habits to break, because I had never learned the recipes of the generation before me. So I cooked fresh and light right off the bat. And after a lifetime of eating dribs and drabs of this and that, I started eating healthfully. What a difference it made in my health and my outlook!
This is why I sometimes have to keep from asking my Keen clients, "Are you hungry, bubbie?" I think a lot of my depressed clients are overworked and malnourished. I've been there; I know the sound.
Each day on Keen, I speak to many people who really need a nutritious meal, a few glasses of fresh water, and a regular bedtime. They need other, more sophisticated things, to be sure, but meeting the basic needs of the human body is a good place to start.
Nevertheless, I get bored with the endless nagging in our society about nutrition and exercise. All of those numbers and forbidden foods. Good fat, good cholesterol, yak, yak, yak. What are we really talking about, after all, but eating and moving around? Tiny children can do it; who needs a manual?
For example, two friends of mine own a gym. Their little girl visits often, and shows no interest in the many exercise machines. Instead, she chases and kicks the big rubber balls, makes faces at herself in the big ballet mirror, spins around until she is half-crazed, then falls on the mat and laughs until she is beet red. And she doesn't wear a pedometer.
That's how I feel about food and exercise. The salads I prepare are paradise, not penance. For exercise, I ride around on my Trikke (a half-scooter, half-ski vehicle). I zoom around the neighborhood shouting, "Whee! Whee!" For spot toning, I'll get on my hands and knees, and follow one of my cats around for 10 minutes. I'll do everything he does; it's great for the abs.
My absolute favorite exercise is overreacting. Like Lucille Ball, I'll leap out of a chair and scream, "ETHEL!" It gets the blood moving, boy.
I've marched on those ridiculous gym machines, and stared desperately at the numbers, waiting for them to give me permission to stop. Honeh, I don't make enough money to treat that kind of depression. I had to take a long walk and daydream until I was myself again.
Some modern habits try to creep into my life, and I keep battling them back. I sometimes have to remind myself that just because I am watching TV, I don't need something to eat. A hot cup of tea is enough when coming in from the cold. And as for the modern habits of eating ice cream from a container, or chips from a big bag, I never developed them. I didn't want to disturb my mother's peaceful rest by having her rise up from the dead to call me a slob.
May I suggest that during this holiday season, you practice living green by preserving your most precious resource - yourself? Make the better choices when you can, and make them fun for yourself. Just get off the bus a few blocks early, and walk the rest of the way while you listen to music. And as for fast food, take the advice of a stern, frugal friend of mine: "Just go home and have a sammich!"
Remember your vitamins and medications. Forget those 97 glasses of water that everyone recommends. Drink one. Or two. Maybe a few. Don't go off in the morning without a little something in your belly.
Oh, and speaking of breakfast, here is my two cents on coffee. If you can wake up, shower, eat, wash and style your hair, moisturize your skin, apply make-up, find your coat, bag and keys, start your car and drive to a coffee shop, all without coffee, you don't need coffee. You are coffee.
It's so much more cozy and economical to buy yourself a coffeemaker with a timer, and some good java. The smell of it will greet you first thing in the morning, freshly brewed. Get a travel mug and take a cup to work. Those sleek, silver numbers are much more stylish than those ugly cardboard cups that seem to be permanently attached to people's faces. Honestly, Americans are starting to look like Miss Piggy, with those snubbed snouts.
Finally, don't beat yourself up with exercise that punishes your mind and body, and for heaven's sake, don't starve yourself into your celebration clothes. The holidays are stressful enough without the fatigue and depression caused by poor nutrition.
Take good care of yourself, and I'll always be here, asking, "Are you hungry, bubbie?"