Category Archives: Senior Citizens

Dieting – Step #4

Okay, I feel we have come to a crucial point in our diet–“Real Food.”

I’m not going to pussyfoot around any longer. I’m going to face the fact that I eat too many fried foods: French fries, Southern fried chicken, fried okra. Whaaaaat? You don’t like fried okra? Well, whatever. Fried foods is one habit I most definitely must break.

But, as always, this is going to remain a laid-back diet, therefore, although I’m going to swear off fried foods, I’m leaving the door open a smidge. If I can manage to forgo fried food for an entire week, I’ll allow myself one serving at the end of a triumphant week. That way I won’t feel like I’m totally denying myself food that I love; but I must remember this is also food that is bad for me.

Gosh, I can feel the pounds melting off me already.

 

Dieting – Step #2

We need a goal. Goal-setting is very important when it’s vital to accomplish something.

Now I think the reason why some people fail when they are dieting is because they set the goal too high. There should be several little goals that are doable with a little effort. So, in my case, I must decide how many pounds I want to lose and how long do I have to lose them.

Here’s an idea from Paige Waehner on How To Set Weight Loss Goals

… set a reasonable weight loss goal for yourself. You can base your goals on any number of factors, but a great place to start would be the general recommendations set out by the American College of Sports Medicine which are 5-10% of body weight or one to two pounds per week. … http://exercise.about.com/od/weightloss/a/weightlossgoals.htm

So, the way I see it – we need a long-term goal and a short-term goal.

My long-term goal is to look and feel better in my clothes.

My short term goal will be as Paige suggests to lose 1 or 2 pounds a week. How hard can that be? I’ve already cut out donuts and soda. Next week, I’ll add a new food to my “no-no list.”

Dieting — Step #1

I’ve decided I’m going to take a slow approach to this diet. Therefore, Step #1–Give up drinking soda–all soda–Regular and Sugar-Free.

My thinking is if I ease myself into a diet, there’s a good chance when I get to Step #10 I won’t even notice I’m on a diet because I’ve been giving up a little at a time.

In case you think I picked something easy to give up, be advised that right now, if you looked in my refrigerator you would find: 2 cans of Bargs Root Beer, 1 Canada Dry Ginger Ale, and 1 Shasta Orange Soda. Obviously, I’m a soda fiend. But that stops today.

And as for sugar-free soda, read what David Thorpe had to say about it all the way back in 2010.

In the case of diet soda there are no calories, but the chemicals you are drinking trick the body into believing it’s eating something sweet.

One of the most commonly used artificial sweeteners is Aspartame (just check your ingredients). This little bad boy will actually prevent your body from producing serotonin (responsible for controlling appetite amongst other things).

And what does your body do when it is suffering from low serotonin levels? It tells your body to go and get some of the foods that it knows will stimulate the release of the chemical.

And guess what, this just happens to be the waistline expanding, high-calorie, carbohydrate-rich, processed “junk” foods that every dieter fears!

So there you have it; sugar free soda is encouraging your cravings for junk food. Bad news.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/4291183
So, HALT! No Soda – Step #1.

 

 

Sugar-Free Candy

Yum, I thought, this is going to work out really good. I’ll satisfy my sweet tooth, but I’ll fake it out with some sugar-free candy and let me tell you, that Russel Stover sugar-free chocolate is to die for.

It’s readily available in the supermarket. I decided this was going to be terrific for me because the doctor told me recently to cut out all sugar and carbs. So I figured I’d make my doctor happy and lose a little weight while assuaging my chocolate craving.

Wrong! Last week I looked at the bag a little closer and guess what it said, “Not a Weight Loss Product.” And I’ve been eating that candy like there’s no tomorrow.

Oh well, back to the drawing board.

Small Town, USA – Part 4

I tell you more crazy things happen in my supermarket at the deli counter. I guess it’s because aside from twiddling your thumbs while waiting for your number to be called, there’s nothing much to do, well except people-watch which I confess I’m prone to–a lot.

For instance, last week I found myself staring at the mature woman, okay very, very old woman, standing a few feet away from me. I stared because I never (no exaggeration) saw a woman’s face with so many channels of wrinkles before. My guess is she had spent a lot of days in the sun and it had taken an awful toll. But that wasn’t the most striking thing about her.

The thing is, she had taken great pains to put a full face of make-up on. And it was beautifully done. I know because I was a Mary Kay Beauty Consultant for ten years way back when. As a matter of fact, because I spentĀ  time as a consultant, I rarely leave the house without some kind of make-up on myself: lipstick, blush and sometimes eyebrow pencil. This particular day, I was spruced up pretty good.

I hadn’t noticed her looking at me, but she must have because she leaned toward me and said, “I like your make-up. It’s perfect for you.”

I responded, “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

She smiled and said, “Well, I’d say we’re both still kickin’ it.” She chuckled as she walked toward the produce department.

These are the wonderfully unexpected things that happen in a small town.

Ella Fitzgerald and The Latin Casino

Ella Fitgerald

I belonged to a card club and I didn’t want to go to her show, but the majority ruled. That’s how I happened to attend a concert starring Ella Fitzgerald.

At the very least, I knew I would enjoy a nice dinner, since The Latin Casino served a pretty decent meal. What I wasn’t expecting was an out-of-this-world show. Ella turned out to be exciting–a stellar entertainer. Her voice rang out straight from her heart and her audience could feel the very essence of her music.

What made me think of Miss Fitzgerald today? I don’t know.

She is no more. Neither is The Latin Casino in New Jersey. But those were the days!

I Cried This Morning

It wasn’t a feminine dab your misty eyes sort of cry, it was a full-on blow your nose and pull yourself together cry. I like to watch Sunday Morning on TV every week. Sometimes I don’t get to it until Monday night, but this week, with a cup of tea on hand, I watched the program on Sunday.

One of the stories dealt with Melvin, an Alzheimer sufferer. He’s had no memory for three years now, but it was the day before Mother’s Day and he decided to go for a walk … unaccompanied. Of course as soon as that was discovered,the police were summoned. They found Melvin about two miles from home attempting to buy a bunch of roses for his wife because he remembered that’s what he didĀ  every year of his marriage on Mother’s Day.

It appears the Alzheimer disease robs you of your memory, but sometimes your instinct kicks in and you get to hand your wife a bouquet of roses once more as you did in days of old.

That’s what started my waterfall of tears. Perhaps because my mother suffered with the same affliction–I don’t know, but I thought I had cried enough to last me two months when they hit me with a segment on the last Bee Gee brother–Barry Gibb.

I loved the Bee Gees. I don’t think there was a song they ever recorded that I didn’t like. Anyway, Barry, he’s the one with the falsetto singing voice, is going on tour for the first time without his brothers, Morris and Robin. Well, that was it! Listening to that story and to their music again reopened the floodgates.

Believe me, I had a rough morning and I haven’t even touched on the Vietnam segment.

Blue Horizon – Ali vs Sonny Liston

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve watched a fight match on TV and only a single time I’ve seen one up close and personal.

First the TV. Most of the fights I’ve watched were less than spectacular except for the Ali vs Sonny Liston fight back in the 60s. There was so much hype centering around how bad Ali would be beat by Liston, that if you were a breathing human being (even if you’d never watched a fight before), this match had a macabre way of drawing you in. So, like thousands of other Americans, I tuned in that night. I even popped a bowl of popcorn, believing I would be stuck in front of the TV for a while.

About five minutes in, Liston went down–for the count! I hadn’t even put a dent in the popcorn. It was a stunner of a fight. I just sat in front of the TV staring at it, as if there could be some mistake. But no, Ali had taken down the giant and it had been spectacular to watch.

That fight didn’t transform me into a fight fan, but back in the 70s, the Blue Horizon Boxing Club was a popular local venue where Philadelphians went to see up-and-coming young boxers fight. My sister (who was a big boxing fan) had been begging me for weeks to accompany her to a boxing match down at the Horizon. I finally agreed.

The crowded lobby, before the doors opened to admit the fans, was like a raucous party. By the time we entered the boxing arena, we were friends with several of the regulars who made sure we were close to the action in the ring, second row seats to be precise. In those days, Blue Horizon spectators could practically sit in the ring with the fighters. It wasn’t a huge place like it is today.

Anyway, the fights began. Sweat mixed with blood was sprayed on the people seated close to the ring. As I mentioned, my sister and I were in a second row seat.

My sister loved, loved, loved it. I was nauseated throughout, but the guys who felt sure they had introduced us to the greatest sport in Philly, if not in the world, were so excited for us that I dared not go to the restroom to throw-up my dinner.

Worst night of my life? No, mostly because those Blue Horizon boxing fans were so enthusiastic about their sport and thank goodness we met them, because I didn’t have to accompany my sister to the Horizon ever again. She had a new group of friends who met her there for several more matches while I sat comfortably at home reading a book or watching Charlie’s Angels.

Philadelphia Airport

Have you ever been to the Philadelphia. Airport? It’s huge!

Can you believe I remember when it was a big (as opposed to huge) airport and there were rocking chairs on the roof so you could sit and watch the planes come in and take off? My friends, both guys and girls, would pile into a car, whichever one happened to have enough gas to get us to the airport and back, and when we got there, we’d buy a coke out of the vending machine (cokes came in green glass bottles) and head up to the roof. Summer and spring nights didn’t get much better than a night high up in the sky seeing the planes going and coming.

Another highlight of spending time at the airport–going down to watch the people who had just landed. You could get up close and personal back then. No terrorist threats. We’d try and guess which couples were crazy in love, which ones were married and who was probably coming for a visit.

It doesn’t sound like much, I know, but it was great fun.

Rocking chairs on the roof of the Philadelphia Airport! Can you believe it?

Croquet, The Wicked Version

For two glorious summers in the early 70s, every time I had a barbeque for friends, we got into the habit of setting up nine wickets and two stakes in my backyard and we played a wicked game of croquet. I say wicked, because that’s the only word I can think of to describe the mayhem. The USCA (United States Croquet Assoc.) would’ve never approved.

The truth is, I had the perfect yard to set up a croquet course. It was long, about 100 feet and about 50 feet wide–perfect for croquet, except for one small detail. Running completely across the width of the yard, was a rolling hill. I’m not too good with measurements, but I’d say it was a foot and a half high.

Trying to get a ball successfully up or down that hill while at the same time trying to aim your ball through a wicket was, as I mentioned, wicked. That first Saturday, when husbands and boyfriends, who were inside playing cards, heard the raucous commotion coming from the backyard and realized at once that the ladies weren’t playing an ordinary game of croquet, they issued the challenge–guys against gals. Once that happened, as you can imagine, the game became even crazier.

Oh, to relive those sunny afternoons when icy beers flowed, and the burgers and hot dogs tasted so, so good.