The weather has been unusual this year. I follow a few spots around the world, just a consequence of being an expatriate and having friends and loved ones at strategic points around the globe.
My parents in Berlin just lived through an unusual cold winter, despite global warming. Dubai was unusually wet. Hong Kong has been hot-wet- cold, hot-wet-cold, hot-wet-cold one time too many. What’s going on?
My veggie garden has not been a success. Butterfly worms have feasted on the arugula and gai-lan. The rest has not even sprouted from seeds. Volcanoes break out and stop airline traffic.
Nature rules, and she is telling us. We can’t eat money.
The toads are croaking so loud that I can’t sleep, snails are everywhere, a thunderstorm has just drenched the laundry I painstakingly hanged outside, a colony of ants has discovered little man’s too sweet cocoa pops.
It comes every decade or so, doesn’t it? Too cold, too hot, too wet, too dry. To remind us that we are an important but fairly small part of the picture, and that finding the middle ground in our life is an objective worth keeping.
The previous year was not a good one. I can tell from stepping on the scale. I have gained 8 kilos. Don’t know about you, but I gain weight for two reasons. When I am unhappy or when I am pregnant. I am not pregnant.
Other mothers-to-be crave pickled cucumbers, I craved Moevenpick ice cream. It was a delicious pregnancy. When little man was out, the scale was where it had never been before at 80 kilos (wow!). Ok, about four kilos went to Elsie (left breast) and Luise (right breast) to feed insatiable tiny man, but the rest attached to the bum, the belly, and (most bothersome of all) the face. I am pretty tall for a girl at 5’8, but 80 kilos dragged me down to snail’s pace. I felt tired and had no energy. Having a baby and a job was stressful and left little time, but after two years I draw the line. I started to go to the gym, even if it cut sleep from three hours to one. Exercise had always helped to loose extra kilos. Not this time. It gave me more appetite. Now I was 80 kilos and had the stamina to run 5 kilometers every day. Great, but not what I had hoped for.
A chat with my brother-in-law who had lost 20 kilos and a little bit of googling on the internet brought me to this site. My brother-in-law told me that he lost weight by counting calories. He had tried the Hollywood star diet (only tropical fruits) and other gimmicks, but nothing really worked until he wrote down what he ate and limited his calorie intake every day.
On the side, I normally hate my brother-in-law. He has about half a dozen girlfriends at any given time, a terrible temper, and an ego to match. However, I value his diet advice. Someone who has the need to attract women a dozen a night ought to know.
So I found the Hacker’s diet, and it made sense. I downloaded the Excel spreadsheets and adjusted them for my needs (grams instead of ounces, goat cheese instead of American cheese, etc.). I lost 15 kilos, was my pre-pregnancy self, and felt great.
Then 2009 came. Can we all agree that it was not the best of years? I was in Dubai, and hated it. Somehow food became comfort and a curse. 65 kilos, 68 kilos, 70 kilos (gosh), 73 kilos (no!!!).
So I am back to what worked before, an Excel spreadsheet where I put in all the food I eat, and I strictly stop at 1500 calories per day. It’s easy, geeky science. A woman in the prime of her years needs about 2000 calories a day. If you eat more you gain weight. If you eat less you loose weight. And depending on what you eat, 1500 calories does not need to mean a growling stomach. If you eat lots of veggies your stomach is going to feel full all day, and even a bit of chocolate is ok.
You may think it’s strange and over the top, but I know it works and I know what the alternative is. My dad is 73 years old. He is the best Dad in the world. He has been overweight for most of his adult life. Not obese, always active, just with a little pot belly the sun shone on. But diabetes runs in the family. In his sixties he began to need insulin injections, then the pain in his legs started, now the nerve damage is so bad that one of his toes may need to be amputated.
I am worrying about my Dad, trying to get him doctor’s appointments with the best specialists, wanting the best for him, but in the back of my mind I know that everyone of us needs to take responsibility for his/her own health. So while I am prep talking Dad over the telephone, I am busy putting the calories of my lunch into an Excel spreadsheet.
It would also be nice to be able to breathe again in my favorite pair of jeans.