How to stop eating your kids’ candy.

I see you there, Reese’s Peanut Butter cup. I see you. Mmmm-hmm.

I know you are chocolatey goodness. I know this ALL TOO WELL.

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Halloween is over, friends. Did you know? Last night, as I walked from house to house, holding my hot tea and trying not to stumble over curbs (It was dark! And cold! And I think people who I chatted with thought I was drinking! Because I tripped about five times! But only in their presence! When it was just me, I could walk like a Victoria Secret Model on the runway! But, with more clothes!)*

Halloween is OVER.

PRAISE THE LORT.

Our house currently looks like Willy Wonka blew up all over it. Both children seem to have the genes of their papa, because they have actually acquired more Reeses than I think is even polite. I know at one point that Red actually said, “TRICK OR TREAT WHERE ARE YOUR REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS, LADY?” whilst we were out last night. Because, you know, he is so polite and well-mannered.

It’s possible we had to stop all trick or treating for a full-on lecture that went like this:

Me: YOU SHALL NOT ASK FOR CERTAIN THINGS. YOU SHALL SAY THANK YOU. YOU SHALL NEVER EVER ASK SWEET LITTLE OLD LADIES FOR SPECIFICS, OK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

Small costumed Star Wars cherubs: Yes ma’am. We will agree to basically anything as long as we can resume our chocolate safari, ok?

Me: Then perhaps I should also add that you two will detail my car tomorrow, ok?

Small costumed Star Wars cherubs: SURE. WE DON’T KNOW THAT THAT MEANS BUT OK.

Anyhow. We carried on. We got home, cold and tired, after a hard day at the chocolate mines, and proceeded to lose our ever-lovin minds. (Red: sobbing. Blonde: sullen. Me: grim.) Such is the way of Halloween. It always ends with the monsters coming out.

But NOW, I am sitting here, eyeing all that candy, and thinking, if I start in on it, I will proceed to eat my way through my feelings and the feelings of everyone else here, and end up in a pile of fluttery orange wrappers and despair.

I am telling you true; I really need to lay off the candy.

Last week a friend of mine worked on filming me for a promo video for a speaking gig. It was awesome and fun and funny and even involved SOCK PUPPETS. AND ALCOHOLISM. I KNOW. HILARIOUS.

But, as I was watching the video’s final edits… I couldn’t focus on the message at all. In fact, I couldn’t really focus on much of anything except that I had about fourteen CHINS.

I do realize that the camera adds some yardage, but… does it add thirty pounds? and fourteen chins?

I asked the husband: “I look fat. Do I look fat?” He blinked a few times, knowing full well taht answering this will not go well whatever angle he takes, so he simply kissed me and said, “I love you.” Which of course means I am a freaking hippopotamus. But a well loved one.

Sigh. I know. You’re going to say: “Dana, embrace yourself no matter what. You are a child of God. You are beautiful inside and out. Don’t even.”

Well. I KNOW that. Duh.

But. I don’t feel good. And sometimes… do you find yourself inhaling Nutter Butters and they don’t even TASTE all that good? I think I have just lost my tastebuds. They are buried under processed sugar and carbs, y’all.

November. I see you. You are my month to reset, renew, re-imagine…

Resolve some food issues. And I’m gonna do it all here with you as my audience. Because, accountability. Plus, maybe… just MAYBE there are a few of you out there that want to join me?

So, stay tuned! I’ll unveil my FABULOUS NEW NOVEMBER PLAN-O-RAMA FOR…NEW FABLOUSNESS.

(Perhaps the first thing I need is to come up with a new title for this. I’m a work in progress. ūüôā

Love all of y’all. Anybody out there (*taps mic) feeling tired? Feeling like sugar is taking over? Feeling like you need a little Re-new? What are your best tips for tackling such issues? I’d love to hear from you!

 

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*Halloween so used to be a drinking thing. But, not anymore. We alcoholics in recovery don’t drink on Halloween. Or any other day, for that matter. Just so you know.

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Working Out When Old.

Ok. I’m not OLD old. I’m just, mildly old. Sorta medium old.

On the threshold, so to speak.

Knocking on the DOOR of old. Actually, more like knocking, and then running away because face to face door stuff is hard.

Is this getting old?

Anyhow. I have been running again. And no, not FROM anything. Just running. Just for my own personal enjoyment. Wanna know why?

BECAUSE I AM FLIPPING CRAZY.

I mean, really. Why? WHY? Why so fast, Momsie?
I’m not sure. Sometimes I like to pretend I’m being chased by rabid squirrels. Because my life lacks suspense, I guess, and rabid squirrels do the trick. Other times, I just make sure my ipod is on endless repeat of “We Are the Champions” and I pretend I, too, am a champion. And I’ll keep on fighting, ’till the end.

Ok, here’s the deal. I am running again because I actually missed it. I missed the feeling of being fleet and strong and attacking a hill with venom like I OWN that hill, that is MY HILL and RAWRRRR and all that. DEATH TO ALL HILLS! BWHAAAA HAAAAA!S

Etcetera.

The problem is -while my HEAD was attacking hills in a sleek pony tail?

The Sledgehammer of Reality is all:

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I would like to state for the record that I am not fifty. Not yet. Not that there is anything WRONG with being fifty. Nope. Fifty is just nature’s way of saying, “Ha! Told you!” to all of us.

Really, I don’t want to make fifty mad. If I do, it might come back and bite me in the a$$. Fifty can do that.

So, I continue to run. Yesterday I ate chips and guacamole before going out into the six pm wind and heat, and that run went really well. And for the people who live one street over, I am so very sorry. I don’t even know how to clean that up. I’d like to blame it on my dog but he just stood as far away from me as possible and looked embarrassed. Just pray for rain and avoid your northwest corner.

Also, I now do something called HIIT! (I added the !, for flair) which I think stands for High Intensity Interval Trauma. I think we should just go ahead and add the “S” to it, but you know, it’s not that kind of blog.

I HIIT! things on Tuesday and Thursday mornings and afterwards I do this:img_5863

Here I am, post HIIT! Just trying to stay alive, here. Breathing in and out. Eventually the goal was to get up off the floor because the dog was really worried and one cat was starting to lick my calves, in a “Hmmm, this is sorta like Tender Vittles” kind of way. I figured I better get up, or that’s how they would find me – surrounded by cats and with really bad hair.

I tried to blog. My arms were so rubbery that I basically had to fling my arms onto the keyboard and hope for momentum just to try to type something. Making coffee was harder. I gave up after a bit and just sat on the floor and smelled the bag of coffee beans.

And so, that’s me these days. Just thought I’d let you know.

Someday, someday, as God is my witness, I will go on a run and it will be all Chariots of Fire. Me, on a beach, all smiley and British, in glory.

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But until then, I slog on. No Chariots of Fire soundtrack. More like, the intro song for The Muppets. You get the idea.

But, may¬† I add, no one should EVER run in white. I don’t care how good it looks on a beach, it’s just not a wise fashion choice. Don’t you see all the muck you’re getting all over your pristine white shirt, Mr. Toothy British Guy? Your momsie would be horrified.

 

 

 

 

4 Things Women Can Do to Take Back Their Health

Today I am reviewing Alison Buehler’s book,

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Um, guys. I actually had to do this before I wrote this post:

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Yes. I actually had to use the computer to help me figure out how old I am. This is due, perhaps, this wonderful thing called Getting Older. Or, I could just say, math is hard.

Either way, it’s the brain. My brain is half a century old now, and y’all,¬† it is a little tired.

Here is what I know about getting older:

  1. I am not sure I like it.
  2. Although… if I really was honest I am pretty positive being twenty again would be awful.
  3. So there you go.

Over a year ago, I found that my Facebook page was starting to post endless Amazon adds for things like multivitamins and moisturizers and one piece swimsuits that LIFT EVERYTHING UP. Amazon used to be all, Hey! Here’s some fabulous books and new lipstick shades, but now I get things like ads for Glucerna.

 

I’m so not kidding. I just looked and that’s what was waiting for me. And NO I am not slamming on diabetics but come on. Yesterday it was wigs. WIGS.

Alison Buehler’s book to the rescue!

Well, wait. Alison would interrupt me right here and say, nicely, that I don’t need rescuing from aging. I just need some answers and some really honest and clear information, which she provides, to help me embrace this process. She wrote Rethinking Women’s Health after her challenging journey of searching, rather desperately, for answers about her own health issues. It is this honest, personal, and “I’ve been there” perspective that really hooked me.

After reading the book in one night,¬† I came up with a list of reasons you might also want to read Rethinking Women’s Health.

4 Things Women Can Do To Take Back Their Health:

  1. Take back their health. For real. The whole googling your symptoms and ending up with You Have Two Weeks to Live thing – yes, that can happen. But really? Buehler makes some really valid points about the wealth of good information out there to help women with their questions. She provides great tips on accessing this information in a thorough and thoughtful manner.
  2. Take time to appreciate your age, the difficulties, the challenges, and the milestones. A large portion of this book talks about “Rites of Passage” for all ages – from preteen to the elderly. One very daunting warning she gives us if we don’t: something called “stunted adults” and “eternal children.” *shudder*. It’s happening. A lot. Read about it so you can avoid it in your household.
  3. Take a look at how you see yourself. Buehler dedicates a large portion of the book to motherhood. At first I was all, “Yea, yea I know, mothers are important.” But her description of true caregiving was inspiring. And challenging.
  4. Take roll: Periods. Uteruses. (Uteri?) Vaginas. Sex. Menopause. Hormones. Mindfulness. Oh, yea, and oils vs. Tylenol, and that gooey, pink antibiotic the doctors always give your kids…¬† She covers all that too. And a bag of chips. Kale chips.

The thing is, I didn’t walk away from this book feeling discouraged or overwhelmed. Her book has humor, lots of narrative from other women, and a readability that encourages. She is proposing that we all can have something called “Sustainable Wellness” – which really means, as Voltaire put it:

“God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us ourselves to give us the gift of living well.”

I can’t say I came up with the use of Voltaire all on my own. Alison had his quote as a chapter heading and really, it kinda sums up this whole blog post. I should have just spun out that quote and did a mic drop.

But then, you and I wouldn’t have had this time together, and we need that. Sister time. Alison would agree.

If you would like to know more about the book and Alison, here is her website. And, did you know? Every summer, she helps lead something called Dangerous Boys Camp. My boys would love this. Is that not the coolest?

This book is pretty cool. Give it a read. Or, as Voltaire ALSO said,

“Women have totally crazy, complicated bodies. Don’t freak. Get the info.”

Ok. No. That wasn’t Voltaire. That was all me.

 

It Ain’t Over ‘Till the Sick Momsie Sings

Things have been a little sickly over here.

I’ve been a bit, uh, under the weather. This is code for: Y’all. This is bad. I haven’t showered in over five years and when I cough I sound like a seal ate a bullfrog and then it¬† got a side of the plague.

Aches. Pains. Chills. Hacking cough. No sleep (due to cough and, also, due to resentment at husband because he has slept peacefully through me practically DYING, so I just stare at him and snot-wheeze and get bitter. By the time morning comes, I am an old, dried up lemon of bitterness and phlegm. Lovely.)

So, basically, what has been lurching about here lately has been the little girl from The Ring, only with a load of laundry under her arm.

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Poor dear. She really needs to say hello to Mr. Comb.

Oh, and on top of ALL of this, along with the constant requests for food (EVERY night. Every NIGHT my parasitic family wants to be fed. If I had KNOWN that FEEDING them CONSTANTLY would be part of the deal, I would have… Well. Ok. I would have not changed anything because I also eat. But sometimes it’s nice to vent a bit, eh?)

Sorry, on top of ALL of these constant badgering about being a responsible adult, I have been asked to read and review this book:

:

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Ah, Universe. *knocks Universe in the shoulder with fist* Ya big lug. I get what You’re doing here.

So, as I slowly , Ring-girl creep back to normalcy (this, as we all know, is a relative term used only because “nutball” is already taken) I am reading Alison’s book and taking notes, and guys! I am super interested in what this book has to say about women, our health, and nutrition! And you KNOW I don’t use the ! lightly!

First of all, she uses the word “vagina” like 57 million times. As one who has always used the terms “lady bits” or “fine china” for this part of my anatomy, I am finally paying attention, and, also, deciding it’s time to act like a responsible adult.

VAGINA.

There. I said it. Completely out of context and all, and I’m sure my dad is now hiding under his desk at the office, but heck! I am an adult! I will shout “vagina” from the rooftops if I need to!

Nope. Not gonna do that. Our roof is waaaayy too slanted and I just don’t want to have to explain all of this to the neighbors.

It’s hard. The adulting thing. But since I managed to keep my family alive this week while I was sad, pale, sickly Ring girl, I think I have earned my Adult Merit Badge. On to some more reading!

See you Friday for the full review.

Also, I leave you with this, because I have to:

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I told you I had earned the Adult Merit Badge. I didn’t say I would have to ACT like it all the time, OK?

Seriously – this book has a lot to say about really crucial health topics for women like:

  • nutrition and mental health – what are the links?
  • hormones – I don’t have to hate them, do I?
  • sex and well, hormones and aging and all of that “gettting older business” – Help!
  • medicine¬† – do we over-prescribe? What are the alternatives?
  • how can I be more “in charge” of my health?

 

And on and on.  Stay tuned for a more in depth review on Friday!

If you are interested in ordering a copy of Alison Buehler’s book, click here.

Also, here is a short book trailer. Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

Lose Weight in Five Easy Steps!

Ok. Just lied. There are not really Super Easy steps for weight loss. Gotcha there. I doubt I could even tie my shoes in Five Easy Steps.

Nothing comes easy. Especially the good stuff.

Or, as my dad usually says, “Life is hard. Get over it.”

Generally, working out to get in shape is, you know, work. It’s one of those sweet sayings that one should cross-stitch on a pillow:

I Could Lose Ten Pounds Today But To Do That I’d Have To Cut Off My Arm.

I know. Kinda grim. Stay with me. It can only go up from here.

So, it’s January. You know what that means, right?

Gym memberships are OFF the CHARTS. Like, everyone and their dog (or in this case, cat) got up, got off the couch, and decided, once and for all, it is time to GET IN SHAPE! Woo hoo!

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And… then, we start to slide into February.

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And before you know it? This.

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By the way? There are a heck of a lot of pictures of fat cats on the great interwebs, y’all. Total time sucker. Fat cats are my spirit animal.

Anyway. Here’s the truth of it. I have not been at my best weight in about a year. Or maybe two. Or seven. Something like that. I have a small issue with perception. I think I’m totally hot.

Well, I am totally hot. But I also think, I am totally in shape¬† (which I’m not). Could be because I like to wear what we mommies call: “workout gear” a lot. This means: Hoodies and sweatpants. On some days, a bra. There is a lotta give in sweatpants, y’all.

As for the no bra thing? I just do that to keep you guessing.

In reality?

Well, I could post another picture of a fluffy cat that is big-boned, but I think I might have hit my max on that.

This year has been awesome. My book, Bottled: A Mom’s Guide to Early Recovery was published by Central Recovery Press. I got to travel all sorts of places to talk about the book. I even got to be on tv! And I had good hair! It has been awesome.

But along with all that awesome has been a crazy schedule and some hard-core (not the abs kind) stress. And for me? Stress  = cheese.

I am tired. And lately, my body is having a conversation with me that just isn’t working anymore. It goes like this:

Head: Ok! Let’s tackle this day!! Let’s do this!

Body: You go ahead. I’m tired. There’s some cheese in the fridge. I’m gonna head that way and I’ll meet you over at the “this” you keep talking about later.

Head: Impossible. You and me, kid? We’re in this together. Otherwise it gets weird.

Body: Cheese.

 

Lately I have been wanting a change. I miss running. I do run still, but not consistently, and not with any passion. I miss feeling strong. Feeling fast. I miss the simple joy of it.

Let me introduce you to my friend, Jill McKay. I met Jill when I spoke at the Whole Women’s Weekend this past summer. She is a fitness coach,¬† and I am going to be working with her for the next months or so to try and get my mojo back.

Head: Did you hear that? We’re gonna get our mojo! And then we’re gonna tell everyone about it! It’s called accountability! It’s awesome.

Body: What is this mojo you speak of? It sounds like a drink. The one with the mint.

Head: That’s a mojito and it used to mojo you up all the time. But, now, you drink seltzer and lime. We don’t mojo with substances anymore, remember?

Body: Ok. Can’t I just have some cheese?

Head: MOJO IS NOT BEHIND CHEESE. BACK OUT OF THE FRIDGE.

Jill is a wellness warrior. She has a heart for women who are desperately searching for their mojo, and she is helping many of us find it. Mojo doesn’t really have anything to do with cheese. More on Jill later, but I am going to include this link to her New Beginnings series on her blog. I love it because her goals are VERY similar to mine this year. And, there’s a journal in there, and that is my favorite mojo-tracker ever.

If I write the word “mojo” again I think I might break this post. It’s a funny little word. Like, “qualms.”

Yes. I have no qualms about saying the word “qualms.”

Ok! Well! I think we’re about done here. I’ll just excuse myself to get some more coffee, before this post turns into Words with Friends. Lacking focus today. Could be the cheese.

Click here to read Jill’s post on doing These Two Things for our health. You’ll be glad you did.

Oh, and also this. Because. He’s not fat. He’s fluffy.

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Hey! did you know I wrote a book? Yep. Click on the pic if you would like to know more!

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