The Next Hundred Pounds

THE CRUNCHES OF DEATH

Bikram is not my favorite style of yoga, and it's controversial. A lot of people are deadset against it, believing that the heated room can put practioners in danger of overdoing and injury; and then it has its staunch adherents who say it's helped them heal injuries.  I've done a heated yoga class (not Bikram) in which I did indeed overdo and, with the help of a long hike and a bad backpack, took my back out of commission for a couple of weeks; I've done a traditonal Bikram class which I had a hard time getting through because the room was SO hot and steamy. I don't mind the heat, but I do get bored with the same 26 postures. Nevertheless, there was a local Groupon for a series of Bikram classes very close to my home, and I thought it would be a nice complement to my training sessions with the fearsome Harrison, so I signed up.

I went yesterday, still quite sore from Friday's training session, and it did feel great. There are a lot of things I just can't do or can't do well, but I have become very good at making my own modifications. Bikram is not a practice that offers modifications and the one thing I found annoying was the instructor insisting on getting the forehead to the knee, even if it meant you have to bend the knee. It's not a flexibility issue for me, it'a a belly and boob issue, and bending the knee ain't going to help. About the fifth time he hollered at me to bend my knee so the forehead touched, I almost hollered back that nothing short of a masectomy was going to get my forehead to my knee. But I didn't. I just did my own thing.

That was the other thing I wasn't crazy about. Hollering has no place in yoga. I don't want a lively, noisy yoga class. I want a meditative, relaxing class (even if the asanas are challenging).  But it will be fine for now. I certainly felt less achey when I left.

This morning, I had another session with Harrison. I wish I could afford to continue with him, because it's a GREAT workout. We started with three laps around my cul-de-sac, followed by a series of lunges and squats with weights. Then, lots of core work, some fun kickboxing moves, a lot of shoulder and back work with the resistance bands, more laps, lunges, squats, punches, and rows ... and two really killer core moves. I don't know what they're called but they will leave you in a pile of quivering goo. I refer to them as the Crunches of Death. You lie on your back, feet and arms in the air, with your thumbs locked and legs together. You raise your head and shoulders off the mat and do big forward circles with your legs, as many as you can manage in two minutes. DEATH. The other one, you  have your hands tucked under your butt or lower back, legs together with knees to the chest. Extend the legs straight out and open and close once, then back to chest. Next time, open and close twice, then back. And so on, up to ten times. OWWWWW.

By the end of the workout, once Harrison had departed, I lay on the landing of my stairs drenched in sweat, while my husband laughed at me (sympathetically, but he still laughed) because I could not get up the stairs. Now THAT'S a workout.

Tomorrow, another round of Bikram. The whole point is to keep myself moving during this brief hiatus at home --- otherwise, I might be tempted to just slug around! 

JELLO LEGS

Just call me Jello Legs. That's what I feel like after just 30 minutes under the care and supervision of Harrison of Hiit2.com Although I'm only home for 2 weeks, I needed something special to keep me on track, so I took advantage of a Living Social deal to get three 30-minute sessions --- and they were a REAL bargain.

Harrison comes to your house and he is ALL business. Plus, he is a big dude. His shoulders and upper arms are bigger than most guys' thighs. I almost started laughing at one point, because he was having me do knee kicks to pads he was holding, and I was supposed to be holding his shoulders and pulling him down. It was like pulling a boulder. I have never felt so weak and puny in my whole life.

But it was a great workout. Not every trainer is good for every person --- it's the same with any teacher/student relationship --- but I like Harrison's style. He is there to work, but he's encouraging and he tells you exactly what he expects. One of the first things he said was that it was up to me to say when I wanted a break --- otherwise, he was just going to keep working. And we did. We kept moving. Jumping jacks with 5 pound weights in each hand. Lots of core exercises. Squats with weights. Presses and bicep curls and flies. Running up and down the stairs. And the killer, the absolute killer ... walking pushups. Those made me unhappy. There is something about plank position --- except if it's while doing yoga ---  that triggers self-doubt and gets me upset, every time.  But I just pushed through.

Walking push-ups notwithstanding, I loved the workout, and in 30 minutes I was dripping wet, out of breath, and incapable of climbing the stairs immediately thereafter. I like that the whole thing lasted 30 minutes and was a complete body workout.

Sticking with the coupon theme, I also bought a series of Bikram yoga classes, which should be a nice complement to the sore muscles inflicted by Harrison and his intensive workouts.

And speaking of yoga, for those who think it's not "real" exercise, or that it's some kind of woo-woo navel-gazing hippie business ... well, check this out.

 

All excuses have just become invalid, what?

OF TRAVEL, TOURISM, AND TROLLS

It's been a really crazy week! On Saturday, I took my last TRX class and sadly said a last goodbye to all the wonderful women at Ironflower Fitness. The staff gifted me with a goodie bag with a towel, water bottle, and itsy-bitsy tank top (which I actually can get on, but would not wear outside the house, at least not yet).  I will miss them,  and I'll really miss that kickboxing class and the TRX class! I hope I can find something equally cool at my next gig, Princeton.

I am already missing the daily workouts. Between the show and a crazy travel schedule, the only workout I did this week was a whole lot of yardwork --- mowing, pruning, planting, hauling limbs and sacks of debris. You see, I had a few days off between shows, and couldn't resist the opportunity to go home, especially since I'll only be there for about two weeks before the next gig. So I flew in, got a few Dachshund saliva facials, did some errands and yardwork, picked my husband up at the airport, and yesterday morning we got on a plane back to Miami for my last two shows. On Sunday, we start the drive home.

I've decided to make the most of the drive by doing short, intense sets of cardio or strength at each pit stop. So if you see a crazy woman doing burpees and air squats at a rest stop in Mississippi, or taking a couple of laps around one in Louisiana, that might be me. Honk as you drive by. Better yet, stop and join me!

There may not have been much exercise this week, but I've done very well with sticking to my program of no grains and very restricted sugar. It's not an issue when eating at home; the only difficulty I have in staying on program is when eating out in restaurants where you're presented with so many carbalicious choices. There, I just do the best I can to choose veggies, protein, and fruit, and skip bread, rice, potatoes, and all the little extras like croutons. I'm not saying a few French fries haven't found their way into the ol'piehole or that I don't have a meal "off" or two per week, but I'm focusing on filling up the plate with veggies and protein, and letting the grains and desserts be more in the way of "tastes" than full portions. It's working. It's completely satisfying.

Today, some friends and I were big ol' tourists and took an airboat ride in the Everglades. It was magnificent! We saw lots of birds and gators, and it was just really cool to be flying over what looked like a regular field ... except that it was a shallow river full of sawgrass.

We even held a baby alligator named Snappy.

I am almost done with my Florida experience (for now! I sure hope I'll get to come back!) and am happy to be heading back to spend a couple of weeks at home. I have enjoyed both opera houses, both casts, and both shows I've gotten to sing here; and of course, who wouldn't love Florida's beautiful outdoors! All the hiking, biking, and exploring have been amazing. Sarasota and Miami are completely different cities, but there is much to love about both of them. Yes, it's been a good experience here.

But it hasn't been perfect --- what is --- and there was a little incident last night which was really upsetting. It shouldn't be. It's no news that for some people, the Internet is a license to behave like a mannerless moron and to let any idiocy that springs to mind dribble from their fingertips onto the screen; things most of them would never have the moxie to say to your face. And in this case, it's compounded by that strange idea people have that anyone who is in the public eye --- no matter how remotely --- is somehow not a real human being, and is open to any kind of comment or criticism. This sort of thing does not happen to me very often. I'm not a celebrity of any kind in the opera world (I like to think of myself as an in-the-trenches sort of singer, slogging away and having a nice career, but unlikely to ever be famous). Still, it happens that sooner or later, anyone who is in the public eye even a little bit is going to be on the receiving end of uninformed, unsolicited, or simply uncomplimentary commentary from the general public. The internet makes this very easy. In this case, these casually nasty comments were hurtful because they were directed at my appearance. Hit a sensitive spot. Talking about it actually helps me get over it and move on. There is not really anything to be done anyway (it never helps to respond to such people and be dragged down into their dirt) except to recognize it for what it is and turn it around however you can. In my case, I'm getting it off my chest and moving on. And thinking about buying a punching bag, so I can continue those satisfying kickboxing workouts at home ...

I STOP WHEN I'M DONE

When you start something new, it's really tempting, really easy to make grandiose plans. (New Year's Resolutions, anyone)? You're going to cut out all processed and fast food overnight! Henceforth you will never drink a real Coke or have a Big Mac again (even though you currently average three or four a week). You're going to get up at 4 a.m. every day and run 10K! You're going to stop going out for beers with your co-workers every night ... well, you'll go, but you're only going to drink diet soda!

And most of us know how well THAT turns out. We manage our stringent new curriculum for a short time, and then it gets to be a drag. There's a special occasion, or a night out when you're tired, or a morning when it's rainy and you have a big presentation, so it becomes easy to let your resolutions slide, just this once.  Somehow, just this once turns into rationalizations and more slips and before you know it, you've completely abandoned your shiny new regime. You feel worse than before, because now you feel guilty, and are probably indulging in all kinds of negative self-talk about your lack of willpower.

Why set yourself up for this kind of failure? Have we learned nothing from the fable of the Tortoise and the Hare? Slow and steady wins the race. Have we learned nothing from the Winter Warlock in Santa Claus is Coming to Town? Put one foot in front of the other ... Perserverence, not perfection, is the goal.

This article from Paleo nutritionist Diana Rogers illustrates the point beautifully; and although she's specifically talking about making the changes to a Paleo lifestyle it really applies to any lifestyle and diet changes you want to make. It's much more effective to make them in increments, and to be true to the philosophy you are ostensibly embracing, rather than simply trying to replace your old, bad habits with "healthier" versions. This isn't reality TV! Nobody expects you to be an instant expert, or instantly successful! You can take your time, make mistakes, start over as often as it takes.

I would add to Rogers' words of wisdom ---perhaps unpopularly, but I am absolutely convicted of this idea --- that it is also important to take the time to discover, step by step what you can and will do on a longterm basis, even if it means you're only embracing your new philosophy 75 or 80%. That may change over time. You may find yourself willing and able to do more. It may be what you crave.

I feel I am finally emerging, after a period of some months, from my slide back down the mountain path that is my lifelong journey to best health and fitness. I finally feel capable again of a firm and steady commitment to working out (a lot!) and to challenging myself more physically. And as I've gotten stronger again in that capacity, I also have come to feel that I can begin to pay stricter attention to diet. But I am easing back in to both. Exercise came first; it's less of a mental hurdle.

Back in 2007, when I first decided to make major changes to my lifestyle, I knew this effort had to be different than any that had come before, and that it was crucial to do it MY way. After all, I'd had all the expert advice in the world. It wasn't that I didn't know how to eat properly or work out. Something else was lacking. There is no program in the world that you can stick to slavishly exactly come scritto, as we say in opera --- as written; at least not forever. It's important that you individualize it and make it work for you, and don't apologize for doing so.

Do, however, be honest with yourself. Let's face it, you are not going to lose 100 pounds if you say to yourself, "I can live with exercising for thirty minutes three times a week, and having a salad for lunch every day along with my can of Coke and bag of Cheetos." Certainly, you will see some improvement, but you're probably not going to become a cover model for Fitness Magazine. Be honest about what you are doing for exercise, how much effort you are actually putting in,  and how much good it's doing you. A thirty minute walk per day is not going to "pay" for half a pint of ice cream and fried chicken for dinner. Be honest about what you are eating, and how much. The simple act of teaching yourself to weigh and measure food, to understand portion sizes and nutrition, and to make sure you ARE aware of how much and what quality of food you're putting into your body, will help you make better choices. Maybe not every time, but more of the time, if you are serious about improving your health.

But take your time. That's okay. When you feel good, when you feel secure in your new habits, when you maybe start to feel that you need something more, harder, different, that's the time to kick it up a notch.

And that's the place, at long last, that I find myself coming back to on my own fitness journey. Yeah, I've been here before. I may well end up here again. Not going to worry about it. Today, in TRX class, I did those damn planks. I held them the whole time. The lady next to me, who does Crossfit, was having just as hard a time as I was, and she weighs less and is in better condition. Today, after a hard hour of kickboxing, I joined my TRX classmates in 50 jumping jacks at the start of class. I was TIRED. I was drenched in sweat from the first class, and we had an hour to go. I got to #30 and thought I was going to have to stop, but I remembered a poster I'd seen the night before.  It read:

I DON'T STOP WHEN I'M TIRED. I STOP WHEN I'M DONE.

Today, finally, I was in the right mental place to push a little. I kept repeating that to myself throughout class. And I did all 50 jumping jacks. And then I went and did those hateful, hateful planks. Three weeks ago, it wouldn't have happened. But I showed up, I did the work, and even when I hated it, I started to like it.

I need a nap now, but I figure today, I earned it.

STRIPPER STRETCHING: FIVE HOT GIRLS AND ME

Viveca Jenson's Piloxing class (mixture of Pilates and boxing)

Ever noticed how, in photos of people engaged in fitness activities, there are never any fat people? I'm not talking about candid shots, but any sort of marketing or publicity photo. I get regular newsletters from LiveStrong, C25K, various magazines, and all sorts of other fitness organizations, all with lots of colorful pics of people engaged in all sorts of healthful activities, and there is never even one person who is even slightly overweight, unless it's in some sort of rude way, meant to show a lazy slob or a before/after pic. Or if it's a Richard Simmons product, 'cause Richard is not afraid of having the big people in his videos. Yaay, Richard. In fact, most of the people in the pics, especially the women, are oddly matchy-matchy in size and body type. And they usually have a lot of makeup on, and their hair looks bizarrely good for people who are supposedly engaged in sweat-inducing activities. I don't know about you, but when I'm working out, the last thing I want is makeup dripping in my eyes. My hair is in a ponytail and tucked under a bandana, which is not at all attractive but keeps hair and sweat out of my face.

I get why marketers want to do this. They want to present the most attractive people possible in order to 1) make you think this is a hot place/product filled with shiny beautiful people; 2) make you feel bad if you don't look like that, so you'll buy whatever they're selling in order to get yourself looking like that; 3) make you think that you are going to be one of that good-looking, well-groomed club if you buy what they're selling. I mean, if you're really using a gym the way it's supposed to be used, you are going to be disgusting, stinky, and dishevelled, at least til you hit the locker room. But reality don't sell memberships. So, shiny people.

Ironically, feeling out of place, or worrying about what they might look like, or how they'll keep up, actually keeps a lot of people from joining a gym or doing a physical activity. It's a fallacy, by the way. Sure, there are jerks out there, but this isn't your high school gym class anymore. Most athletes are really happy to have anybody join their club, and they admire effort as well as results. They will cheer you on.

Nevertheless, I often experience fish-out-of-water moments at the gym. Last night's new stretching class was a perfect example --- everybody else in there was slender, graceful, lookin' hot in their cute exercise togs, and all seemed to have dance training to match their dancer bodies. I don't begrudge them any of this, BTW. But then there was me, wearing a stained Livestrong T shirt, bike shorts, and a bandana. I did not feel sexy. I felt like a beached elephant seal as we rolled around on the floor. I immediately nicknamed it Stripper Stretching. It didn't help that we did it in the dark, accompanied by sexy music,  in the pole dancing studio. There was a lot of writhing around. If there had been men there, those ladies would have walked out with a lot of cash tucked in their spandex. And they would have deserved it, because they are marvelously athletic with beautiful, toned bodies, and boy are they bendy.

If I tried to protect my ego by never doing anything where people might look at me crossways (not that anybody did; no one at this gym has been anything but friendly and supportive), I'd never do anything at all. I made a decision a long, long time ago, way before I seriously set out to transform my body and fitness level, that I was not going to let being fat stand in my way of doing anything I really wanted to do --- assuming it was safe, affordable, and legal --- and that included dressing nicely. So when I go to the gym, sometimes I feel embarrassed because hell --- *I* don't want to look at myself in cute spandex workout outfits; my workout clothing mantra is "comfortable, cheap, supportive, covers the fat rolls". Or because I can't shake my entire body the way some of those girls in Zumba class do, at least without throwing my hips out  of whack or just looking like I'm having a seizure; or because I'm still really crappy at planks and sure as hell can't do them with my feet through the TRX handles, at an incline (but I can do pike pushups on the floor, and that's by God what I do when everybody else is doing'em with the TRXs).

This philosophy extends to other areas of life, too. The very high probability that I will look like an idiot doing something is not a good enough reason to keep me from trying it, if it interests me.  The very high probability that I will fail, or not be very good at it, at least at first, is a damned lousy reason not to try something. Because the fact is, morons with low self esteem and big mouths aside,  the majority of the people you encounter in any given situation are too worried about how inadequate they may appear to give a second thought to you.

There was a lady in Zumba class today wearing a great t-shirt that read STRONG IS THE NEW SKINNY. I found that inspiring (as did a lot of other women in the class, who clustered around to admire it). This shouldn't be taken as a dig against skinny people; but skinny isn't attainable for everyone, and all things being equal, strong is, if you're willing to work for it. So I approve that message.

The point is, don't let anybody hold you back from your goals. The most important thing is not whether you fit in, whether you look good doing it, whether it takes you five times or five thousand to get it right. The important thing is that you are out there doing it, because you want to, or because you want what it will bring you more than you want to indulge whatever is in your way.

Go out there and get your share.

PRIMAL FLIRTING

Yesterday, I stopped off at a Wendy's to ...er ... use the facilities. It was like entering the Bog of Eternal Stench. I was nearly bowled over by the smell of rancid grease and preservative-laden food. When I recovered a  bit, I looked around and realized that none of the patrons were affected by it. It seemed perfectly normal to them. And once again, I realized that once you cleanse your palate and your body of this kind of trash, you become aware of just how awful it really is.

Several years ago, I did this great gig in Minnesota ... in February. They put us up in beautiful lofts right next door to the rehearsal space. It was sort of the Opera Dorm for grown-ups, and the cast had lots of fun doing potlucks in each other's flats. The last one was a sort of "clear out your fridge" party, and one of my friends brought Hot Pockets, cut up into bite-sized pieces. They smelled pretty good so I decided to try one ... and spit it out into the garbage. It didn't even taste like food to me. (At that point, I probably hadn't had any fast or processed food for about two years).

My point is, you really can re-educate your tastebuds to prefer whole and natural foods, and less sugar. I personally have never conquered the satanic trifecta that is fat-sugar-salt, but I need a lot less of it to be happy. This is on my mind because at last, after three months in Florida, working hard on regaining fitness and the mental strength to concentrate on diet, I feel ready to cautiously introduce some changes to my diet again. And it's party inspired by Mr. Hot Pockets.

Mr. Hot Pockets lives here in Miami, and I saw him the other day. Actually, I worked with him just last summer, and there'd be significant changes to his physique. My friend has a compact, muscular frame, the kind where a few pounds  and a little toning one way or the other make a big difference.  He has never been fat, but he used to weigh a little more, and now he's looking positively sleek. He's doing Primal, Paleo's slightly more relaxed cousin, and I've been intrigued by these for a while. I first heard about Paleo because of CrossFit (many CrossFit adherents are also into Paleo), and it led me on an exploration of these very low-carb diets that eschew grains (even whole grains!), legumes, and processed sugar. The good news? Fat  --- good fat --- isn't the enemy any more. Here, eat the chicken skin. Have a whole avocado. Slather on some coconut oil. EAT BACON!

This is an oversimplification of course, and not a full view of the diet or the lifestyle in its many incarnations. I encourage you to check out some of the links above if you're interested, and they link to many other books and sites.  Personally, I don't think I'm ready to go whole hog (you should forgive the pun) and start foraging, cooking organ meats, and fasting intermittantly, but giving up grains for at least a week? That I can do. I think.  Yesterday was grain-free (I did have some legumes), so technically today is Day One. So far, so good.

I was late to kickboxing this morning, but I joined in with gusto and also did my TRX class. Tonight I plan to go back and do a stretch/burn class. Yesterday, it was zumba and a great 75 minute yoga class all to myself, since no one else showed up!

I was late to kickboxing because  since Daniel's death, I have just been a little spacey, and yesterday was the funeral in France, so that was all that was on my mind. I drove around all day singing "Danny Boy" and had a little private ceremony of my own for him. My voice teacher sent me a link to  my favorite movement from the Faure Requiem --- "In Paradisium", as ethereal and promising as you could wish for, and it made me remember an incident that happened almost ten years ago, when my own father died. I was performing my favorite work of all time, the Verdi Requiem. It's a challenging work with a lot of solos for the mezzo; the last of which requires high, delicate singing after an evening of heavy lifting. But it's the most beautiful thing in the whole work, in my opinion: the Lux Aeterna.

We were in a hall that had stadium seating. When we started the Lux Aeterna, I happened to glance up into the audience, and I saw my father. Not a guy who looked like my dad, not a ghost, but my dad, right there in the audience. The next time I looked he was gone, but I knew he was still there, and it was very comforting. Now here's the weird part: after the concert, one of the choristers came up to me. I did not know this woman, and as far as I know, she had no idea my dad had died just a few weeks earlier. She said to me, "While you were singing the Lux Aeterna, you were surrounded by angels. And I saw your dad standing there. He looked very happy."

This is a recording of that very performance. I have done other, better performances since then, but this one will always be special to me. I now offer it in tribute to Daniel.

MY BODY IS PUBLIC PROPERTY

Earlier this week, a friend of mine --- a petite, lovely blonde --- was walking her dogs down her own street when a couple of construction workers took it upon themselves to reinforce negative stereotypes of their profession. What exactly was said is lost to the annals of time and translation, but it was sufficient that, when she got home and told her fiance, he was mad enough to go out there and open up a can of verbal whupass. This is a fellow opera singer who recently enjoyed a huge success playing the role of a rapist/murderer on death row, and put in some serious gym time getting cut in preparation for that role. Believe me when I say you wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of his righteous anger. Apparently he scared those two morons so badly that they left the job site, and hopefully they'll think twice about speaking disrespectfully to women minding their own business.

I was on my own yesterday when I went for smoothie at Starbuck's between Afro Belly Samba class and TRX Suspension. I am not a cute, petite young blonde. No makeup, hair in a messy ponytail covered with one of my famous hippie bandanas, sweat-soaked tank top over my shorts and sports bra --- not the vision of glamour. And yet a couple of guys riding past on their bikes saw fit to comment of the quality of my gluteus maximus.

As catcalls go, it was pretty tame, unoriginal, and, well, complimentary. I wasn't particularly offended by it, and in fact if a more unsettling incident hadn't just happened to my friend, I probably wouldn't have thought much of it. Hell, I might as well admit that I was a little flattered. My behind is generous but it's also shapely, thanks to all those squats and lunges and kickboxing. Thanks for noticing, anonymous guys on bikes.

But then, there's the conflict. Because it's inherently disrespectful to remark on a strange woman's body, especially in public. I can't help but differentiate between guys like these, who weren't rude or threatening, and in fact probably thought they were giving me a compliment. They didn't do it to hurt me or make me feel bad, so I can sort of give them a pass. My friend's construction workers are a different story --- they made her feel icky and unsafe in her own neighborhood. 

It got me thinking.

I don't know a single woman who has never been sexually harassed and/or assaulted. The severity ranges from mild (catcalls, brushing up against you, obscene gestures, ass-grabbing) to severe (sexual bullying in professional environments, rape), but every woman I know has experienced it. I once saw it happen to my mother, with her three young kids standing right there. I've had my share of catcalls, unwelcome propositions, and even what I would call low-level sexual assault. (Once, an employer cornered me in a dark place and forced me up against the wall. He thought he was being playful and trying to steal a kiss; I thought I'd tell his wife, and told him so, which more or less put an end to it, but at the time I was pretty scared. Another time, there was a guy behind me on a crowded subway and ... well, let's just say, thank God I was wearing a raincoat). It doesn't matter how you're dressed, what you look like, how old you are ... some guy somewhere is going to feel justified in commenting on your body. Some guy somewhere is going to think it's just fine to use you like one of the ratty old porn rags he's got stashed beneath his mattress.

It's pervasive in our society, along with the general focus on the importance of how women look. Any public female figure, no matter what her accomplishments, is subjected to minute criticisms of her dress, hairstyle, figure, and looks. And if they are found lacking, she is severely criticized for it. It's as if whatever else she has accomplished in her life, she's failed in a fundamental way by not meeting the approval of the anonymous masses. If you're a woman, and you're not pretty, anything you do and say can be dismissed with scorn.

And if you *are* pretty, you are public property; even more so than the average woman. Your looks are sure to be judged, commented on both publicly and behind your back. You may even have a harder time being taken seriously, especially when you're young (witness my sister-in-law, a petite, slight, pretty young woman who could not get banks to take her seriously enough to lend her the money to start a business ... a business which is now thriving, with two locations and many employees). And when those looks start to go, as they inevitably must, there will be more comments. Because while older men can be distinguished, older women can only be "cougars".

There's certainly nothing wrong with being proud of your body, especially a body you work hard to make fit, healthy, and attractive; a body that is strong and able to do what you ask it to do. And there's nothing wrong with taking pleasure in compliments. I'm not going to jump down the throat of a guy who whistles at me, or tells me I have a nice ass ... it's all in the intention and delivery. At the same time, if this milder behavior is acceptable, where's the cutoff where it becomes unacceptable? And however harmless it may be as an individual incident, how much does it contribute to the overall culture that allows women to be objectified? That allows Draconian laws meant to control women's bodies and actions to continue to be proposed and passed --- not in countries where women are traditionally little more than the property of men, such as Iran and  Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia, but right here in our own country? In 2012, we find ourselves fighting the same battles our mothers have been fighting for centuries, for control and ownership of our own bodies. For equal pay for equal work.  For the right to walk down our very own streets without being verbally abused (or worse) by strangers.

All those little things --- wolf whistles, commenting negatively on other women's bodies, not calling people on it when they do it in front of you --- they add up. They contribute to the culture that allows and even encourages abusive behavior. So, maybe I was wrong to let that "nice ass" comment slide. And my friend was right to tear those two lewd yahoos a new one --- although unfortunately, I doubt they took the lesson they needed from it.

What do you think?

*Edited to add this link to a very good and well-written article on street harassment. Julia Gazdag says it much better than I did. Also, be sure to watch the video at the end.

ADIEU

It started out as a wonderful day.

I picked Eric up at the Fort Lauderdale airport, and after a delicious lunch at the Rustic Inn Crab House, where we were entertained by the hordes of iguanas patrolling the shipyard across the canal, we headed out to hike at River Bend Park.

It was a gorgeous day, not very hot at all, with a nice breeze blowing. We were greeted by some very handsome peacocks, who were happy to be admired, and would have been happier yet had our admiration extended to the offering of treats.

Sadly, we were treatless, so we apologized and headed off on our hike. It wasn't very strenuous, since everything was flat and well-paved with crushed shells, but it was quite pleasant.

The trees were full of colorful red bromeliads --- a very large one nearly fell on our heads, probably blown off its perch by the strong breeze.

The lake boasted a full complement of Florida birds, including these beautiful  snowy egrets, wood storks, ibises, and even a solitary roseate spoonbill.

The wood stork flees.

A lovely pair of ibises.

The beautiful roseate spoonbill!

We tromped around for about five miles, enjoying the solitude and quiet, as well as the gorgeous jungle-like tropical scenery.

So, it was good exercise, in a lovely spot --- my favorite combination! By the time we reached the car, it was late afternoon, and we weren't quite ready to brave the traffic. We decided to visit another nearby park, Jonathan Dickinson. It's quite different in character, a lot of sand pine scrub,  which may be traditional Florida landscape but quite frankly isn't very pretty. We were ready for a bit of a rest by now, but we did climb to the top of the observation tower, which afforded a nice panoramic view of the park, the Intracoastal Waterway, Jupiter Island, and the ocean.

And it was here that we finally got a phone signal and received a call from Eric's mom in France, telling us that his dad had suffered a massive stroke, was in a coma, and was not expected to wake up.

We headed back to Miami in shock and grief, trying to figure out the best course of action. I had a show Tuesday night, which Eric was planning to attend, and then we were planning a short trip to Key West before my next performance. When we got up on Tuesday, we heard from my mother-in-law again: Daniel had passed away.Tuesday was spent canceling reservations, rearranging plane tickets, and then I had to go to the show. I only told the conductor, who is a friend, and the stage manager ---  if people had been coming up to me offering condolences all night, I never would have been able to get through the performance.  And I got through it.

Wednesday morning I got up early and put Eric on a plane back to Austin; and today he headed off to France.  This is one of the difficult things about my line of work: I can't go. I need to stay here and finish out my contract. And that's what I'm doing. I've done all I can for my husband and mother-in-law for the moment, except to stay here and keep earning my paycheck. It's not pretty but that's the way it is.

Yesterday evening, after pretty much crying all day, I dragged myself to the gym and took Afro Belly Samba class, which turned out to be a perfect mood lifter as well as great cardio. It's hard to be upset when you're wearing a jingly red silk coin belt and shaking everything you've got. Compared to the other slender little ladies in class, I looked more like a football player running tires than an exotic Brazilian dancer shimmying gracefully, but it was fun.

This morning, it was kickboxing and TRX again. Magda has no mercy and we started class with jumping jacks and a run around the block. It's been quite a while since I ran any distance and true to form, I finished last. It's harder to run with extra weight, for sure. But I can keep plodding on. Class was really hard today. It's always tough, but I guess because of the emotional strain I was more tired than usual and also a bigger emotional mess. That's right, more feelings of inadequacy, more embarrassment at being praised for my fat ass being able to do push-ups, and more surreptitious tears. But I did better at fighting it off, and I kept going. I worked harder. I am determined not to eat this grief, not to let it stop me from working out, not to let it be an excuse. And I have done some comfort eating, but I have not pigged out, and I haven't splurged at every meal. It wasn't perfect but it was better than I might have done in the past.

This is a time of great sadness and stress for my family. I will miss my brilliant, funny father-in-law, Daniel. I'll miss his eagerness to try anything new, miss having to babysit him when we toured sites (because he was the absent-minded professor type, and would become absorbed in something, wander off and get lost if he wasn't watched). I'll miss his absolute delight at all things Texan, especially how excited he was to visit the Alamo and the state Capitol and meet a real, live Texas Ranger. He was beside himself on the last trip when we took them to the Texas Ranger museum in Waco. The way he used to talk to himself under his breath as we drove, remarking on exciting things he saw and reading signs out loud in his heavy French accent. "TexAHSS! Rahn-jairs!" (Texas Rangers!) "West-chest-AIR!" (The name of our subdivision ... he never failed to say it when we passed the gates). He remains the only person I have ever heard actually say "Oh-la-la!" and not sound silly, though I much prefer the expression, "Oh la vache!" He ate barbecued ribs with a fork and knife, and it took me a lot of work to dissuade him from this and get him to eat them barbarically with his fingers, like a real Texan. Like a Texahss Rahnjair would. He was an extremely talented and capable man, who did all his own home and car repairs (as my husband does;  he learned from the best) and handmade all the beautiful furniture in his home. He tiled our back porch for us, beautifully. We always had to find small home improvement projects when my in-laws visited, because Daniel needed work to do, and it would be done perfectly. And although he spoke some English, he often misunderstood things I was saying, and had to be corrected by his wife. Who doesn't speak a word of English, but understands it perfectly well from facial expressions and context. I will miss his quaint turn of phrase --- he learned English from British language tapes in World War II --- especially "We are not oblig-ed to ..." .  I will miss the immense amount of pleasure he took in learning things, visiting new places, trying new foods, living life.

Adieu, Daniel. Repose en paix.

OPENING NIGHT!

It's opening night for Romeo & Juliette!You can see some pics from the dress rehearsal here. I'm  in a few of them.

I like to get a little workout in on performance days, so I went to Pilates. Lots of work on those transverse abs, and when it came time to do planks --- front, side, AND back, which I'd never done before --- by golly I held each one for the full time allotted. I hate planks. Obviously, I need to do more of them.

Yesterday, which was Dark Night (the night off between the final dress rehearsal and opening), I'd set my alarm to get up in time to make it to the 9 a.m. zumba class. But when it went off and I groggily dragged myself out of bed, I realized that I needed to sleep in  more than I needed to work out. I gave myself a day off, and was glad.

What do you think of this graphic? Someone posted it as "inspiration" on one of my online support forums, and while I appreciate the point it's trying to make, I also find it offensive. Not all overweight people sit around eating bonbons and chicken nuggets, and not all slender people eat healthfully. I've seen size 0 colleagues wolf down a large plate of cheese fries for dinner while I enjoyed a salad. That's not to say I haven't had a few cheese fries in my time --- the point is , your size is hardly the only indicator of your health OR your athletic abilities. "Inspiration" like this that promotes exclusion, judgment, and negativity isn't true inspiration.

And with that brief note, I'm off to the theater, packing a banana, a protein bar, and coconut water for snacks and hydration. See you on the other side!

CRYBABY SISYPHUS

I cried today in TRX class. WHAT UP WITH THAT? When did I turn into such a soggy mess? I mean, there are times in every class when you feel like crying because one more rep and your muscles are going to pop right through your skin, but this was different.

Nope. This was a crisis of confidence, and it was humiliating and freaking annoying. Hours later, I'm still pissed off about it.

Kickboxing class starts off with about five minutes of jumping rope, which I am simply not coordinated enough to do. I spend all my time battling the rope and not getting much cardio in. So, I do jumping jacks and run in place instead. Kickboxing IS cardio, and in between kicks and punches, we do more jumping jacks (set of 50 as a class, usually at least 3 times during class), push-ups, squats, and sometimes burpees and squat-thrusts. Then, it's time for TRX suspension class, taught by the same instructor (and most of the women from kickboxing take it, too). Between resistance exercises, more jumping jacks and push-ups. It's WORK, and I love it.

But today, I got tired a little sooner than usual, and tonight is my final dress rehearsal for Romeo & Juliette, so I didn't want to push. I needed to hold some energy in reserve. I started pooping out on the jumping jacks, which made me mad at myself.

And then we got to decline pushups. These are tough. These and planks are my downfall. Magda saw I couldn't do it and told me to just hold a plank, and that is where I lost it. Without warning, I just felt so humiliated that I couldn't do it like everybody else was. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I was so mad. I kept trying but my current strength was just not up to it. So I did what I could, and we moved on to something else which I could do, but that surprise attack moment of negativity had sunk its hooks in, and I couldn't quite shake it off.  So much for telling my inner bully to bite it.  I mean, I told it to, but it wouldn't shut up, and I guess sometimes that's just the way it goes. There were another 15 minutes of class and time and again, the negative thoughts returned. I beat them off and kept going as best I could. I kept telling myself to suck it up, it's not like I hadn't been working hard already for an hour forty-five, just do what I could do and move on. But it sucked.

Sisyphus was a Corinthian king who, in his lifetime, managed to piss off the gods so badly that in death he was condemned to an eternity of rolling a giant boulder to the top of a mountain, where it would inevitably roll back down, forcing him to start all over again. And again. And again.

The task of losing weight and keeping it off seems Sisyphean to me. My unhappiness with my size is what's at the core of my private little hissyfit in class today, and the accompanying feelings of shame and inferiority. It doesn't matter how often I beat those feelings back; they resurface. It doesn't matter how hard I work out, how careful I am with my eating; at some point, I will be at the top of the mountain, and at some point, I'll find myself chasing that boulder back downhill.

Now here's the weird part: knowing and accepting that means it's not necessary to struggle against the inevitable. What I mean by that is, understanding that there are going to be ups and downs, understanding that this is a battle that is going to have to be fought over and over, maybe I can learn to prepare for the downs better and recover from them faster. Maybe the stone doesn't have to roll all the way downhill. Maybe it can balance on the top for a while, and next time, a longer while.

There is really only one thing I have found that works in the fight for fitness, and that is perseverence. As long as you keep fighting, you're winning, at least a little bit.