Ignorant Jerks

Sometimes I just read something that pushes my buttons, you know what I mean? So, here's my Ignorant Jerk of the Day.

Mardi Gras Mambo

I'm back from Mardi Gras, not too much worse for wear, and think I kept the junkfood in check. There was a fabulous repast of turtle soup, beef tournedos and -- so, sue me -- bread pudding souffle with whiskey sauce, all from Commander's Palace on Lundi Gras.

Anyhoo, I'm recuperating and trying to get back in the groove at work. In the meantime, here are some Mardi Gras 2008 memories...

Paging M.D. Lite

I called my doctor in New Orleans by the accurate-but-unflattering name of "M.D. Lite." She was my post-Katrina doctor, since my real doctor never returned to New Orleans after the storm, preferring, for some reason, the relatively safe confines of her evacuation site, Texas. So, floundering in the early months after the storm and needing a doctor, I pretty much closed my eyes and pointed to a name. Thus began my two years with M.D. Lite.

She was nice enough, didn't treat me like an overweight fool without the sense to put down the sugar jar, and seemed competent to treat my (thankfully minor) ailments, which were generally limited to the flu and a ripped tendon in my foot (which to be fair she didn't recognize but at least had the sense to send me to a savvy physical therapist who recognized the problem).

So now here I am in the wilds of east Alabama, and I have no nickname yet for my new doctor because, quite frankly, I have yet to see her from the front. How does that work, you might ask?

Well, first, early last October, as my blood pressure meds were running low, I called to make an appointment, armed with my spiffy new Blue Cross Blue Shield insurance card that will allow me to see most anyone. Problem: only two doctors in the county were accepting new patients. So, I make an appointment with Dr. X on the first available date: January 14. Sheesh! More than three months' waiting time. Hope I don't get sick, I thought.

Around Thanksgiving, Dr. X sent me a card saying she couldn't see me after all on Jan. 14--I'd have to come in on Feb. 5. By then I'd already been off my BP meds almost a month. So I called to whine and complain and beg, and her nurse relented and gave me a Jan. 23 appointment.

Here comes Jan. 23, and I show up for my appointment, only to be told there was no record of me having an appointment and the first time Dr. X could possible see me is Feb. 22.

I ask for the other doctor that was accepting new patients in October. Now, he's not taking anyone new.

I head for the Urgent Care clinic to get some prescriptions since I'm massively pissed off, and a stroke in my unmedicated high blood pressure state must surely be imminent. (BP: 110/70. Maybe I don't even need those meds.)

Before I left, though, I spotted the elusive Dr. X, all neat and trim and tidy in her little gray pants and white doctor coat, with her back to me, explaining to the nurse who denied making the appointment for me that she could not possibly work in a new patient.

So, I think I do have a new name for her after all: The Horse's Backside.

Ruminations Friday

Odds and ends from the "world at large"...

* From the "what on earth will they think of next" files...The Tapeworm Diet, which advocates that, although people have an inexplicable aversion to worms, a nice tapeworm can be a lovely means of weight loss. The diet's proponents, who will take your donations to help support their efforts in protesting the USA's unfair decision to prohibit the sale or transport of tapeworms into the country, then proceed to tell you how to obtain one from the cyst from a cow or pig. Note to self: don't even think about it.

* From the "I'd snore if I could only get to sleep" files...More evidence that lack of sleep plays havoc with weight and health. A Dec. 31 study showed that even three consecutive nights without deep sleep has the same negative effects on the body's insulin-management capabilities as gaining 20-30 pounds. I'm a bonafide insomniac. I can't remember the last time I actually slept for more than four or five hours. And I don't know what to do about it. So there.

* This poor guy in Houma, La., near my old New Orleans stomping grounds, was recently banned by a local Chinese all-you-can-eat buffet because, at 6-3 and 265 pounds, the tiny little owners thought he might eat too much of their food. Well, okay, apparently he had been there before and had eaten quite a lot. Still, if you advertise it, stand by it.

* From the "scare the hell out of you" files, this article about a Canadian woman who struggled with weight her whole life, dieted like mad to lose enough weight for weight-loss surgery, and then died four months later. For the first time, I have insurance that would pay for this kind of surgery, but frankly it scares the heck out of me.

From the Weird Files

And because we can't ALWAYS be serious and gnashing our teeth and moaning over our big-a** jug of water, here's your weird story of the day. A woman in Texas was apparently so taken with herself that she had a life-sized wedding cake made in her image. Have a bite of armpit, anyone?

Check out the photo slideshow at the CNN website.

Home Sweet Home

Well, this has nothing to do with diets or food insanity (mine or the manufacturers') but my new coworkers were kind enough to throw me a housewarming party this week at my new house--well, new to me anyway. Which required me to actually get it sort of cleaned up and organized.

It's not my little baby Victorian from New Orleans--which, thankfully, sold in five weeks--but it's mine (well, okay, technically, the bank's) and it's close to work, albeit in somewhat of a soul-less mid-80s subdivision. And of course, I have to include my entire wall of built-in (unorganized as of yet) bookcases--a big selling point for this bookworm, and my furbabies Shane (red) and Tanker (black).

Seeing Stars

Watching celebrity diets is sort of like watching a train wreck...you know it's going to be painful but you can't quite pull your eyes away from it.

So, new to our shelves is The Black Book of Hollywood Diet Secrets because, as we all know, if only we knew how Cameron Diaz stayed slim we would automatically look like her, right? (Never mind that there ain't a skinny blonde in my gene pool as far back as at least the signing of the Magna Carta.)

So, while we're daydreaming about exercise, we might as well look at how to LOOK like a star. Depending on who you want to look like, in no particular order, here are some tips from the book (parenthetical comments by yours truly because I can't help myself):

* Wanna look like John Cusack? Don't eat any white foods (not a bad strategy, actually).

* Oprah or Rachael Ray? Both drink Wulong Slimming Tea. (Wonder why they don't look more alike?)

* Heidi Klum or Cindy Crawford? Sip vinegar before dinner to kill your hunger pangs. (Wonder what it does to your kidneys?)

* Jessica Simpson? Detox with So-Cal cleanse, a trendy detox product. (Wonder if she's ever tried maltitol-sweetened chocolate?)

* Sharon Stone? Eat prunes to ease bloating and prevent wrinkles. (Would that be FACIAL wrinkles?)

* Demi Moore? Eat apples with peanut butter. (All day long?)

* Jennifer Lopez? Sniff grapefruit oil, which "affects your liver enzymes, which causes fats to be broken down and burn off." (I honestly couldn't make this stuff up--I ain't that clever.)

* Owen Wilson? A daily dose of asparagus and parsley, natural diuretics that diminish bloating. (Doesn't do much for mood enhancement, apparently. Okay, sorry, low blow.)

* Matthew McConaughey? Brush your teeth after every single bite of food--he carries his toothbrush to restaurants with him. Apparently, the fresh minty taste signals your brain that you are full. (My brain isn't that stupid.)

* Kelly Clarkson and Jennifer Hudson? The Cookie Diet. (Must be an American Idol thing. Wonder if I could suddenly carry a tune if I tried it?)

* Lindsay Lohan? Drinks soya in her coffee. (If you want to be like Lindsay, you have bigger problems than weight, IMHO.)

* Gwyneth Paltrow? Drinks dandelion tea as a diuretic. (And you, too, can look pale, ethereal and moderately anorexic.)

* Paris Hilton? Says avoid diet soda. (Please see extraneous comments about Lindsay Lohan.)

* Renee Zellweger? Hiking. (And what fun is that? I'd rather try sniffing vials of grapefruit oil.)

* Reese Witherspoon? Walk backward to tone your calves while carrying five-pound weights. (Yep, that would be me--great calves, porky body.)

* Julia Roberts? Knits--keeps her hands busy and mind occupied. (I quilt and it hasn't done a thing for me.)

* Kate Beckinsale? No starchy carbs after sundown. (Must make you grow fangs or something.)

* Gwen Stefani? Wear wedges--they make you look thinnest of all shoes.

Gotta go now--time to shop for shoes!

I Think I'm Jogging, I Think I'm Jogging....

So I'm sitting here at my desk with an aching back, caused by the simple activity of climbing a ladder and spending 30 minutes with my arms stretched over my head wrestling with an outdated and possibly dangerous light fixture. I lost the wrestling match, I might add, and that was before the back pain started.

So, let's just say exercise of any sort is not my forte. Oh, I know it's important. It won't make me lose weight but it would make me less prone to bizarre back injuries, if nothing else.

So I was very interested in this NPR story recently about exercise, and the perception of exercise.

According to this Harvard psychologist, Ellen Langer, who has become one of my favorite people in the world, if we think we're exercising, it can have the same effect of really exercising, more or less. Langer did a study of hotel maids and how they perceived their activity levels. Now, I'd hate to be a hotel maid. They have to stay on their feet all day, doing hard work and getting lots of exercise. Yet most of those Langer studied reported that they did not get any exercise--because their idea of exercise was jogging or doing some kind of gym-torture. And their bodies didn't reflect the level of activity that they are, in fact, doing just as part of their jobs.

So Langer took half the maids and told them how much exercise they actually were getting, and the informed half had a loss of weight, blood pressure, etc. The placebo effect in action. "Hence, the theoretical possibility," the article says, "that one might be able to sit around eating chocolate and still lose weight."

So, if I sit here with my giant pepperoni pizza and think about how much exercise I'm getting by lifting the slice to my mouth, chewing, swallowing and digesting, it pretty much nullifies the damage, right?

Well, okay, it probably sounds too good to be true, and there have been some negative nancies at Duke and the University of Texas who have pooh-poohed the whole idea.

Still, I think I'll go and have a daydream about powerwalking up Mount Everest. I feel a sweat coming on.

Small Town Life

So, here I am, living in a new environment after 15 years in New Orleans, and before that in San Diego and Houston. It has been quite an adjustment. I walked in my backyard a couple of nights ago and saw stars for the first time in years. I had forgotten about stars! The sky is bluer, and I can drive five minutes and be in the middle of the woods. People here complain about traffic but, believe me, except on days when the Auburn Tigers have a home game, there is no serious traffic.

On the other hand, there also is no DVR service available--well, there is, but apparently there are only so many DVR units available in the county and I had to go on a waiting list. And there's no local TV stations, so who knows if there's any news here (judging from the teeny-tiny newspaper, that answer is no). And there is no Lebanese or Greek food to be found, and one of my favorite low-carb meals was a gyro plate from Byblos or Babylon in New Orleans, a nice lamb blend with onions alongside a salad and a little mound of labneh. Sigh. On the other hand, there's lots of BBQ. I mean, LOTS of BBQ, usually smoked and you do the sauce yourself so that's good. And then there's the Auburn Meat Lab, which I'll write about later. A low-carber's dream.

I find myself trying to adjust my city-girl mindset. I am way too early for everything because I'm used to leaving 45 minutes before I need to be somewhere, not five minutes. I think I was almost arrested in the Wal-Mart parking lot last weekend for stalking because I was following a woman in my car as she walked through the lot with her cart. I just wanted her parking space. We do that in the city; apparently, not here. Scared the poor old girl to death. And this morning, as I sat at a red light looking in the next lane at some poor guy whose car had broken down, I was horrified to see three guys jump from the truck in front of me and run over to the car. OMG! I thought--they're going to rob him. Well, no, actually, they were going to help him get his car pushed over to the side of the road. Gotta get over that crime thing, but that may take a while.

It's good to settle down after more than two months of commuting more than an hour each way. To be here at work by 7:30 I'd leave before dark and got in the really bad habit of pulling through the Burger King drive-through I passed on my way to the interstate to grab a carbolicious breakfast. How often? Well, let's just say the last morning I went through, getting a late start, the woman at the drive-through line said, "Honey, you're running late this morning." Now, if that's not a sign you've been out of control, I don't know what is!

Good to be back.

Coming Soon!

Nope, I didn't forget. Yep, I'm still around (and round). Things have started settling down with the new job and home--lots of changes! So, in the next few days, "Waisted in the Wasteland" will become simply "Waisted" (that, unfortunately, hasn't changed). Hope my readers will find their way back!

A belated thanks to my reader friend in France for the book--it arrived in New ORleans after I left, my realtor hid it in my "for sale" house and I didn't find it till I was packing up for the final move-out! But I love it, Harry Potter geek that I am. So THANK YOU!!

Back soon....

Desperate Times...

...call for Desperate Measures.

Sadly, with my long commute each day for the new job and limited time at home in the evenings, blogging just isn't doable for me right now. So it is with great fondness that I wish you all goodbye for now.

I hope to get "Waisted" resurrected for New Year's. I hope you'll remember to check back then--I'll try to get word around when I'm able to get it going again.

Best of luck to you all on your low-carb journeys!

In the meantime, if any of you need to reach me, you can always email me at:
suzannej3523@gmail.com.

Bye for now!

Without a Plan

Boy, am I out of it!

So here I am, in a new town, with a new job. I'm living in a friend's guest room thanks to her generosity, along with my two "varmints" Shane and Tanker, commuting about 50 miles each way to work in yet another new town. My mom has been packed off to stay with her Alzheimer's-riddled sister in yet another third town.

Can you say "in flux?"

I've always heard, and I believe it's true, that to stick with a weight-loss program you have to find a plan and stick to it.

So the fact that I am currently planless and a bit out of control (of everything) doesn't bode well. It's only my second day on the new job. Things WILL settle down.

Anyway, sorry for the long absence. Moving is a bitch! Wish I could say it was over, but half my stuff's in storage and the other half is in my house in New Orleans. So whenever the house sells (pleeeeeeeze sell, little house) then there will be the "real" move to do.

Oh well, this too shall pass. Hope to be blogging regularly again now on this site.

She's Baaaccckkkk

But barely....

I'm still living out of a suitcase and can barely remember my name. But I AM back. I noticed Blogger is about to have a scheduled outage, so I'll be back this evening. Stay tuned...

Temporarily Out of Service

I'm at the peak of getting ready to move, so I'm afraid both blogs will have to go on hiatus until August 20. Come back and visit then!

Ruminations Friday

This is something I do on my New Orleans blog, and since I'm so far behind in cleaning out my "idea" file, here's a rundown of "functional food" and other headlines from recent days. Doesn't it just make your head spin?

Here goes (deep breath):

• According to the Social Contagion factor, overweight people have overweight friends. Well, duh. How else can we borrow clothes?
  
• Drinking coffee reduces your chance of liver cancer. Presumably that doesn't hold for Kahlua, alas.
  
• Blue corn tortillas are higher in protein and lower in carbs than regular corn tortillas. Note to self: low-carb wraps are even better.
  
• High-fructose corn syrup was shown to be no worse for our bodies, ourselves than sucrose. Darn. I do so want to blame someone besides myself.
  
• Eating more broccoli/cruciferous veggies can lead to a reduction in aggressive prostate cancer. What does that say about non-aggressive prostate cancer?
  
• Researchers have discovered a metabolic defect in the liver that can help explain why some people become obese and others do not. Seems the defect involves the ability--or, in this case, inability--of the liver to dispose of excess fat. See, I told you there was something else to blame.
  
• How low should your cholesterol go? These researchers say that very low cholesterol levels such as those achieved by taking those evil statin drugs, is linked with cancer. Just toss it into the "great cholesterol myth" pile.
  
• Hmph. Now both diet and regular sodas are linked with an increase in heart disease. Not that either one of them actually causes heart disease, the researchers say. Just that cretins such as myself who consume diet sodas are more likely to have poorer diets than fine, upstanding folks who drink only water. Bah.
  
• According to researchers in Texas, fat chicks are less likely to go to college than skinny girls. What about fat guys, I ask? Oh, I forgot. Fat is a feminist issue.
  
• Let your spare tire off the hook. Scientists have figured out that muscular insulin resistance is to blame for Metabolic Syndrome, not abdominal fat.
  
• Now here's a study to sink your teeth into and goes along with some things I've been thinking about. Basically, embrace your inner binger. Study shows people who experience food cravings are responding to calorie restriction more than anything and people should accept food cravings and factor them into their weightloss plan. Well. How a box of pralines exactly fits into any food plan, I am not sure.
  
• Obesity is a strong indicator of the tendency to develop multiple myeloma, a cancer of the blood cells. How much more good news can we stand?
  
• If you're trying to lose weight, a team of researchers tell us, it's healthier to eat foods such as lentils than foods such as white bread. And, let me get this straight, said researchers are actually PAID to come up with earth-shattering results like this?

Oh well, there's more but I need to pack some boxes. Ciaou for now.

Sit on This, Soft and Flashy

Waaa-haaa-haaa. This is just what I need--a chair to change colors to announce to the world that the person sitting on it is overweight.

The furniture is called fuwa pica, which means soft and flashy. It changes colors to reflect emotions--think of it as a mood ring for your butt--and if you're overweight it changes to red "as if the blood pressure was rising," says the designer.

Of course, the designer also says that all furniture breathes and talks--we just can't hear it.

Me: "Okay, desk chair. What have you to say for yourself? You've been pretty darn quiet for the past 13 years."

Chair: "Hell, am I that old? Good grief. I need to be put out in the dumpster."

Me: "Good thought. My last day at work is next week. Want me to roll you out there on my way out the door?"

Chair: "Yeah, and don't let the door hit you on the backside as you leave."

Me: "Wait! You're turning red! Oh no, darn, that was nail polish."

The Center Cannot Hold

Sorry I've been a bit absent lately--I've been walking around in something of a daze, as the time to move fast approaches and I don't seem to be any closer to being ready to even get my house on the market, much less physically move. My brother has been hospitalized in Atlanta with atrial fibrillation. The aunt I was named after has been rushed to ICU in Alabama with a recurrence of lung cancer or worsening of emphysema--take your pick. My mom is in freakout mode over the move. I feel battered. Wouldn't sugar help?

I've been drawn back to one of my all-time favorite poems, WB Yeats' "The Second Coming."

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.…
Oh well. Bear with me.

Forgetting to Eat

I tried to brace myself but it was still a shock as I pulled into the driveway of my Aunt Grace's house and saw her coming out to meet us. She's my mom's younger sister, and has always been strong-willing and resourceful. She raised two kids alone after a bad marriage, had taken care of my grandmother through her latter years and still managed to own her home in a small suburb of Birmingham, Alabama.

But everything is run down now. Her kids are gone--one dead and the other living in a state of denial and far away. The suburb is shabby and sliding down the socioeconomic scale at a rapid pace. The house is showing its age. The neighborhood is no longer safe. And Grace is a walking shadow of her former self as dementia ravages her mind and she struggles to maintain enough of a grip to keep herself going, which she does only through the frequent intervention of scattered family members who try to explain that she still has to pay her bills and that she shouldn't be driving her car.

But the state of what her life has become is complicated by her weakening ability to recognize what she needs to survive. And here we come to the shock of seeing her again for the first time since March. She comes out to greet us wearing a loose-fitting top that only hints at what a quick hug confirms: she is starving herself to death not because she wants to lose weight but because she forgets to eat and no longer recognizes signals of hunger.

Now, I must admit the whole concept of forgetting to eat is foreign to me. But it does make me thing about the whole notion of food and quality of life. A standard of veterinary practice is to watch the appetites of our pets; once they lose interest in food it signals that the end of their lives is near, that a certain quality of life is something we can no longer provide. Others of us suffer from too much interest, such a great fixation on the pleasures of food not only to sustain our physical selves but to provide that quality of life.

I don't know where all that's going, just something to ponder on a quiet Tuesday morning. And it's all very sad.

Back in the Saddle

Well, back at least.

I had a terrific week in Nashville--thanks for all the well-wishes! Somewhere between prayer and Xanax I lost my speaking fear--it was a comfortable room, and I had lots of PowerPoint slides.

I had some terrific meals. At Mambu, there were lobster rolls and Chicken Joan of Arc, which featured feta cheese, olives, and tomato over a grilled chicken breast, all topped with a fresh date. At Sambucca, it was an amazing filet topped with gorgonzola. The Vanderbilt campus was beautiful, and the weather was less humid than expected. It was a nice week. I wasn't a serious low-carber but I got LOTS of exercise just walking, walking, walking.

Now, back to reality. My last day at work is August 8, so I'll be trying to finish up a lot of projects and not leave things in bad shape. At night, it'll be paint, clean, pack, ad nauseum. I'd feel better about everything if I had a little crystal ball and could see where things were going as far as selling the house and actually making the move, but I guess that's where faith comes in, yes?

Heart Palpitations

Yep, I'm having heart palpitations--that's how stressed I am these days. I leave tomorrow for a conference in Nashville where I have to teach a class--mmmmm, how I love that public speaking (not)! And it comes at the worst possible time because...

After I return from Nashville I'll have about two weeks to get my house ready to sell (while still working full-time), put it on the market, get packed up, leave my job at Tulane University, move my mom to temporary lodgings in Birmingham, Alabama, and then move myself and my two furkids to temporary lodgings in Montgomery, Alabama. I'll start work at Auburn University in late August but will need to sell my house in New Orleans before I can find a place in Auburn. (Woo-hoo--waving at Bamagal!)

So, yes, I am leaving New Orleans. It has been a long and bumpy two years since Hurricane Katrina and the federal levee failures laid waste to my adopted hometown. I don't really know how to explain people's feelings about New Orleans except to say you either hate it and leave or you love it just as you would love a person. I'm in the latter group, and leaving breaks my heart and makes me feel as if I'm abandoning someone I care about. But changes in my job, coupled with crime, corruption, lack of adequate health care, and rapidly escalating living costs, have convinced me this is a city that needs to be rebuilt and repeopled by younger, wealthier or at least more optimistic people than I. I'm excited about my new job and home, yet I'm already homesick for New Orleans and I haven't left yet.

So, big stressful life changes are coming in the next month. I'll try to keep my online blog-complaining limited. And try to keep the stress eating in check!

And I'll try to blog "from the road" next week but may be spotty--keep checking back.

Now, if you know anyone who might want a nice little Victorian cottage in New Orleans, built in 1901, here she is!