"But more puddle-tea would be lovely, thank you - Princess Garcia-Duck, this luncheon is absolutely delightful. I must accept your invitations more often."
... what? They were serving cucumber sandwiches and exotic herbal brews - I couldn't turn my stuffed animals down just because the tea was in the second-hand plastic cups that didn't even change colors! Hardship builds character, if you hadn't noticed.
Or... or, maybe you have the same skewed thought process that I do, and, in the recent light of our economic "bite-to-the-jugular" trauma, expected the world to go black-and-white and the word "flappers" to make a come back. That might explain why I have been suddenly addicted to the crooning of Frank Sinatra, and wake up misty-eyed to the soft, dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald.
... and have sudden urges to don a Fedora.
... but I will resist.
Things aren't good - you may have figured that out by watching the news, reading the paper, generally existing around people who depend on money in order to aid them in oh, what's the word - living. I'm beginning to feel that the kids my age [*cough cough* young adults] are caught in an interesting emotional and educational whirlwind; we're literally just old enough to watch our parents, our teachers, and our slightly-older, independent, self-supporting pals feel the stress of trying to do whatever they can to lessen the blow... and the strain of feeling absolutely helpless. Those slightly younger than us may or may not be concerned, depending on maturity level or just how close this financial crisis hits to home, but I get the impression that they do not scour abcnews.com for the positive word. I can't figure out whether or not to be frustrated by this stance - while I've asked older friends, and my older brother, about the situation, I still feel that I know nothing. At the least, nothing of certainty. What's connected, what will be eventually connected, why this happened, how it could be resolved, when, where, what will have to happen first...
... and then my mind opens the floodgates to the other issues. Storms seem to be getting worse - is that global warming? The weather is bonkers as is, without clouds plotting catastrophic events. The media grows progressively more obsessed with egotistic, narcissistic celebrities that DO NOT CONTRIBUTE ANYTHING TO SOCIETY. Pardon me, Paris Hilton, but do you really need a t.v show that pits __ # of kids against one another to see who can suck up to you the most - er, my bad: be your new bff? If you don't mind a brown nose out for meaningless camera time, you've got a good bunch there. Oh, and the effect on the young'uns? Two kids - who couldn't be more than 11 - rode by me on a moped a few weeks ago while I was biking and screamed - loudly, and with victorious air - "F*@# you, b%&$@#!"
In hindsight, I could have whipped out a few choice curses of my own, but I was too surprised to do anything but keep biking down the road and try to avoid potholes.
... and... in double hindsight (which is like hindsight, only infinitely wiser. [cough]) ... what would that have done but reinforce the idea that, at age 11, they were supposed to hear those things and understand what they meant, and exactly how to use them?
... oh, and let's not forget baby-seal clubbers. Another sign of down-spiraling... so despicable that I can't write anything else about it.
In any case, what I'm trying to say (I guess) is that... right now... the world may as well be in black-and-white. It's not exactly a joyous place in certain respects; there are moments when I look at the pictures on my wall and wonder if we can honestly expect that sort of idyllic atmosphere for the next few years without it feeling forced.
At the same time, though.... on that same bike ride home, after that drive-by-calamity... I witnessed proof that we could make it out of this hole:
A young mom, in overalls and her hair pulled up in a sporting, hair-everywhere pony tail - obviously designed and executed by her adorable 3 year old daughter, dressed and coiffed similarly - was sitting down for afternoon tea. I only glimpsed a... glimpse - maybe a second and a half - but it was enough to hear a giggle, and see the mother graciously begin to accept a cup of "tea" from the stuffed bear next to her.
... I bet they had leaf-scones.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
It's got 120 calories! 25 grams of protein! Only 2 grams of sugar!
Only 57% OF YOUR DAILY SODIUM INTAKE PER SERVING!
...thus ends my brief foray into the world of beef-jerky addiction. [sigh] And I was really starting to enjoy myself... curse the involuntary movements that cause my eyes to scan nutrition labels!
... No, for serious! (See this - this is my serious face!)
Well, you can't see it, but it's a pretty grim expression, I'll have you know.
Reading the information on the back... used to be mere curiosity. When I was much younger, I couldn't care less what I was putting into my body (oh, that could be taken in so many awful ways) food-wise, as long as it was delicious and I could get away with it. Fig Newtons? Screw serving size, I'd eat a whole sleeve of 'em. (A bad example - is anyone able to stop eating those things once they've had one? I thought not.)
On a similar note, Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On" just came on my stereo. I agree Marvin... Fig Newtons are worthy of orgasmic-taste-bud-loving. Now, if only my brother had not COMPLETELY CLEANED OUT MY ENTIRE FIG NEWTON STASH, I too, could get it on. For now, I'll continue to sip my coffee ("because it is bitter, and because it is my heart...") and plan a stop at the convenience store later.
In any case - back to the nutrition information and away from my now-all-consuming Fig Newton Craving. Through middle school, I could have three ice-cream bars for lunch and not bat an eyelid. Coca-Cola probably ran through my veins in stead of blood - after sophomore year of high school, while in Germany, I literally went through an entire case of 1 liters... by... my... self. It literally replaced water - if I awoke in the middle of the night feeling hot and thirsty, I'd stumble groggily down to the basement and grab myself a bottle and chug.
... they *used* to have crack in there, right? Past-tense?
After field hockey practice, my sister and I would head to the local Starbucks and deplete our bank accounts by buying the biggest, most sugar packed frozen drink that we could think of... at *least* three times a week. And then go home and eat the scrumptious meal that my parents had prepared, and go back to the freezer for dessert. I figured as long as I was part of the sports teams, I could eat / drink how-much-of whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
... then my mom started pointing out nutrition info, or passing me random bits of data.
Did I know that the Coke I consumed (Coca-Cola, *cough*) had ___ grams of sugar in it? That drinking a can a day would cause me to gain 10 pounds in a year - not counting in everything else I ate or drank?
Did I realize that I was getting older and my metabolism was going to slow down? That I wouldn't be able to use the excuse that my body could process most things without problem?
Did it occur to me that Starbucks frappucino's did have a calorie count - some over 600? (whoops).
Did I even know what the word "moderation" meant?
... and etc. It continues today, except that I've become such a health nut that the subjects and word choices have changed a bit.
Do I really need 12 servings of fruit a day?
Did I understand that it was okay to indulge a little bit in order to prevent sudden fits of binge eating?
... Was I really binge-eating with Kashi cereal?!
99% of the time, I owe my mom a thank you note for making me aware of my own eating habits. However... that 1%... I feel that I've become slightly neurotic about my nutrition labels. No doubt that I'm exponentially better off - I'm constantly aware of what goes in my body and why. I won't eat fast-food, and Starbucks hasn't touched my savings account in quite a long time. I look for meals and snacks that are going to make me feel better - not only bodily-wise, but even mentally.
... the problem is the "indulge yourself every once in a while" bit. I can't help but feel guilty the majority of the times that I do - and if I haven't exercised that day, for example, it's completely out of the question. (Note - I will not resort to drastic measures. Purging is .... well, it's a sickness. I'm out for feeling better, not destroying my body in the process of feeling good.) ... Which is where the nutrition labels come in. Part of me wishes I could completely ignore them at least once or twice a day, just enjoy the treat, and move on. Instead, I scour the sugar content, or fat percentage... for someone who wants to eventually retire to a life of baking sweet-goodness all day, this could be emotionally scarring stuff.
I figure I'm still better off than where I was in say, the Coked-up middle school era and the whipped-cream and chocolate syrup dominated days of high school... I'd just like to see a little more middle ground. I'm getting better at it, but I excel at extremes.
...thus ends my brief foray into the world of beef-jerky addiction. [sigh] And I was really starting to enjoy myself... curse the involuntary movements that cause my eyes to scan nutrition labels!
... No, for serious! (See this - this is my serious face!)
Well, you can't see it, but it's a pretty grim expression, I'll have you know.
Reading the information on the back... used to be mere curiosity. When I was much younger, I couldn't care less what I was putting into my body (oh, that could be taken in so many awful ways) food-wise, as long as it was delicious and I could get away with it. Fig Newtons? Screw serving size, I'd eat a whole sleeve of 'em. (A bad example - is anyone able to stop eating those things once they've had one? I thought not.)
On a similar note, Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On" just came on my stereo. I agree Marvin... Fig Newtons are worthy of orgasmic-taste-bud-loving. Now, if only my brother had not COMPLETELY CLEANED OUT MY ENTIRE FIG NEWTON STASH, I too, could get it on. For now, I'll continue to sip my coffee ("because it is bitter, and because it is my heart...") and plan a stop at the convenience store later.
In any case - back to the nutrition information and away from my now-all-consuming Fig Newton Craving. Through middle school, I could have three ice-cream bars for lunch and not bat an eyelid. Coca-Cola probably ran through my veins in stead of blood - after sophomore year of high school, while in Germany, I literally went through an entire case of 1 liters... by... my... self. It literally replaced water - if I awoke in the middle of the night feeling hot and thirsty, I'd stumble groggily down to the basement and grab myself a bottle and chug.
... they *used* to have crack in there, right? Past-tense?
After field hockey practice, my sister and I would head to the local Starbucks and deplete our bank accounts by buying the biggest, most sugar packed frozen drink that we could think of... at *least* three times a week. And then go home and eat the scrumptious meal that my parents had prepared, and go back to the freezer for dessert. I figured as long as I was part of the sports teams, I could eat / drink how-much-of whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
... then my mom started pointing out nutrition info, or passing me random bits of data.
Did I know that the Coke I consumed (Coca-Cola, *cough*) had ___ grams of sugar in it? That drinking a can a day would cause me to gain 10 pounds in a year - not counting in everything else I ate or drank?
Did I realize that I was getting older and my metabolism was going to slow down? That I wouldn't be able to use the excuse that my body could process most things without problem?
Did it occur to me that Starbucks frappucino's did have a calorie count - some over 600? (whoops).
Did I even know what the word "moderation" meant?
... and etc. It continues today, except that I've become such a health nut that the subjects and word choices have changed a bit.
Do I really need 12 servings of fruit a day?
Did I understand that it was okay to indulge a little bit in order to prevent sudden fits of binge eating?
... Was I really binge-eating with Kashi cereal?!
99% of the time, I owe my mom a thank you note for making me aware of my own eating habits. However... that 1%... I feel that I've become slightly neurotic about my nutrition labels. No doubt that I'm exponentially better off - I'm constantly aware of what goes in my body and why. I won't eat fast-food, and Starbucks hasn't touched my savings account in quite a long time. I look for meals and snacks that are going to make me feel better - not only bodily-wise, but even mentally.
... the problem is the "indulge yourself every once in a while" bit. I can't help but feel guilty the majority of the times that I do - and if I haven't exercised that day, for example, it's completely out of the question. (Note - I will not resort to drastic measures. Purging is .... well, it's a sickness. I'm out for feeling better, not destroying my body in the process of feeling good.) ... Which is where the nutrition labels come in. Part of me wishes I could completely ignore them at least once or twice a day, just enjoy the treat, and move on. Instead, I scour the sugar content, or fat percentage... for someone who wants to eventually retire to a life of baking sweet-goodness all day, this could be emotionally scarring stuff.
I figure I'm still better off than where I was in say, the Coked-up middle school era and the whipped-cream and chocolate syrup dominated days of high school... I'd just like to see a little more middle ground. I'm getting better at it, but I excel at extremes.
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