Pale-"oh no!"

Rewind almost 3 months, to the beginning of May, 2015. My scale had creeped back up to the 200lb mark, so after a few days of solid research and much deliberation, I (like many other desperate dieters) decided to try my luck with the paleo lifestyle. It seemed pretty straightforward – consume a diet as similar as possible to that of our cavemen ancestors (grain and dairy free), and exercise as often as you can. Finally, I believed I had found a plan simple enough not to totally mess up!

And in a way I was right; there’s no hidden fine print behind the paleo diet, and as long as you can stay away from all the processed crap of the 21^st century you’re on the right track. I dove right in, and in no time at all was enjoying my strawberry coconut milk smoothies and cauliflower rice, all while shedding weight! My energy had drastically improved and I no longer had cravings for sugary and unhealthy snacks, but there was just one problem – my body wanted bread so badly that I had begun to obsess over it. It was at this point when a harsh reality sunk in: Staying away from junk food is easy, but following a diet that omits grains and dairy is hard. Sure, I saw results through this diet (I lost about 10lbs in the month that I tried it), but it got to the point where I just couldn’t see the logic behind it anymore. Grain and dairy both have scientifically proven health benefits, so why are they considered so evil on this diet?

Now I’m not saying that paleo is a terrible diet that people should stay away from. Like I previously stated, it did help me to lose a fair bit of weight, and if it wasn’t for the intense bread cravings I would probably still be following it. In fact, aside from its obvious nutritional flaws, the paleo diet actually gives some pretty sound advice – namely, stop eating crap and get off your ass. Although, shouldn’t that just be common sense to people who are trying to lose weight?

In the end, I couldn’t continue with the paleo diet, but I still incorporate some of its principles into my lifestyle today. For example, I have committed to totally omitting sugary drinks from my diet (all I drink now are water and my protein shakes). I have also significantly cut back on the amount of processed foods I eat, and limited my carb intake - because no matter how badly I’d love to eat an entire bag of rye bread with butter every day, it’s not very good for my waistline. Or my arteries. Or anything really.

Basically what I’m trying to say with this article is when it comes to weight loss and dieting, there is no one-size-fits-all method. You have to guess and test, and ultimately do whatever floats your boat. Also, you don’t have to eat like a caveman to be sexy.

My Mommy's Not a Mitten!

A murder occurred yesterday. It wasn’t violent – no blood, no guts, no gore – and perhaps it wasn’t even painful (although I could feel my insides crumple and burn when you slit her throat). But regardless of how humane her death was (or was not), and to how far of an extent she truly did suffer (which stands to be debated), only one thing is certain: my mother (my superhero and best friend in the entire universe) is dead – and you killed her.

            The last time I saw her alive, she kissed me quickly on the cheek and told me to hide; she knew you were coming – her ears could hear everything. But when I saw (from my secret place behind the bushes) those long, floppy ears fall limply to the ground, my heart stopped, and I couldn’t breathe. Those intricate, now lifeless ears were the same ones I had been whispering hundreds of secrets into since I could speak – and you destroyed them with a single swipe of your knife.

            I almost cried next when my mommy’s nose came falling down, so pink and round, and still slightly moist. She used to kiss me with that nose; gently, she’d move it back and forth across my face, telling me that she loved me until I’d giggle in delight. I’ll admit that it did embarrass me a little bit (boys aren’t supposed to like mushy stuff, you know), but after seeing her nose cut so harshly from the rest of her face, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for another one of my mom’s wet, mushy kisses.

            But you don’t care about my mommy. You won’t give a second thought to how she used to comfort me whenever I had a nightmare, or hold my hand when I was scared. It doesn’t matter to you that she hugged me when I had a bad day, or made me laugh when I was sad, or held me when I cried. Even though I will never be able to say “I love you” again to my mother, your life is still completely unaffected. To you, I am a rabbit and you are a trapper – that’s all that really matters.

            But as you were preparing to leave, with my mom’s fur grasped tightly in your hands, I overheard you say to a man who was with you,

            “A lot of it was unusable, but I think this rabbit’s still got enough fur for a mitten.”

            Well sir, you may have stolen this rabbit’s life, and unrightfully taken this rabbit’s fur, but this rabbit is certainly no mitten. This rabbit is my mommy!

Meet Mathusela

A couple years ago I was shopping at Value Village and found a graphing calculator they were selling for $3. But I already had a graphing calculator (and obviously couldn't pass up a deal like this), so I decided to buy it and try to sell it on Craigslist. This is the ad I wrote - I got dozens of replies and ended up making $60!

~

Mathusela is special. And you’re probably wondering, how special is he? WELL, Mathusela may just be the most special calculator you will ever have a chance of meeting. Because he’s not just a calculator. And he’s not just a Texas Instruments calculator. Mathusela , you see, is a TI-83 Texas Instruments GRAPHING Calculator. But as you’re about to find out, he’s so much more than that.

When Mathusela was just a wee Calcukid (calculator jargon for a baby calculator), he sat eagerly on the shelf at Staples dreaming of the mathematical genius that would pluck him from the others, and take him away to a magical laboratory full of trigonometry and functions, calculus and algebra, and other delights that all young calculators fancy. He knew he was destined for greatness (mom and dad always said, after all, that he was their little prodigy), and he couldn’t wait until the magic moment when his batteries would be inserted and he could bask in his greatness.

But as young Mathusela was about to find out, not all dreams come true. He shuddered in in utter repulsion as a 10^th grade arty (the term used by the calculators to mean “one who sucks at math”) paused in front of his place on the shelf. “Please don’t pick me please don’t pick me,” were the only words running through his mathematical little mind – but alas, young Mathusela was known for his graphing intelligence and not for his good luck, and the cold hand of terror (and poor math skills) plunked him into its shopping basket. Mathusela knew at that moment that his life was over.

Of course, he made an effort to show off his intelligence in the mathematical field. He drew graphs and spit out answers, but it was to no prevail. His owner simply didn’t love him enough, and refused to help him succeed. She only cared about her writing class, and novels and pens, and thesaurus and notebook. They were here true love, and Mathusela knew it. He couldn’t compete with them, so he gave up hope in his dream for mathematical excellence. Other calculators, with smart, loving owners made fun of him; they beat him up, and stole his battery power and slide-on cover. Mathusela had hit rock bottom.

But it’s not too late to save him! Mathusela has the will to learn, the knowledge to grow, and the potential to succeed. He is an extra-ordinary, mathematically-gifted, graphing GENIUS who, with a little love, will be your supportive sidekick, your calculating comrade, and the Robin to your algebraic Batman in your QUEST for mathematical excellence. He’s a hard worker, and will never let you down.

Do you have the desire to save Mathusela from the dark clutches of poor math skills? Only YOU can save him! Make me an offer, and you will receive not only the most special calculator on the face of the earth, but also a new life-long, grateful, computing friend.

A Brief Rant

Sometimes I really regret losing 100lbs. Don’t get me wrong – I love being healthy, happy and slim – but I can’t help but wonder how different things would be if I hadn’t lost the weight. Lately I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on the importance society places on the outward appearance of others, and it disturbs me. Those who are considered to be visually appealing receive more respect, attention, and praise than their less-attractive peers, and really, why is that? Should qualities such as personality, humor, and intelligence not also play a part in determining a person’s self-worth? Of course they should. But do they? Sadly, not so much.

Through personal experience I have seen both sides of this superficial coin. When I was 270lbs I was excluded, ridiculed, and made to feel like I was worth less than others. People on the street would stare at me disapprovingly, guys wouldn’t give me a second look, and strangers would whisper and laugh. If I woke up one morning feeling confident in myself and my appearance, society would make sure I came home that night feeling embarrassed and ashamed. I don’t think people realize how emotionally draining it can be when you are constantly being put down for the way you look. It’s exhausting.

Anyways, throughout the last year and a half I decided to track my weight-loss journey through pictures, and putting together before-and-after collages proved to be the perfect motivator and self-confidence booster for me. I was proud of what I was accomplishing and wanted to show it off! However, I was so focused on improving my appearance that all of my attention was focused on the “after” pictures – like society, I never gave my “before” pictures a second look. As I’m typing this I realize that I’ve turned into the people whom I’d sworn I’d never be, and that’s not ok.

So now I’m thinking about that girl in the “before” pictures, and my heart breaks for her. I know the pain she felt and the loneliness she endured, and I can still feel her confusion as she wondered why she wasn’t as worthwhile as the rest of society. I look at her face and see the brokenness in her eyes, and it just makes me so angry. I’m still the same person as I was back then, so why am I now being treated so differently? Why was this girl (and millions of others) treated as less than human, simply for weighing a few extra pounds? That is something I’ll never understand.

Going back to my original thought, what would things be like now if I had never lost the weight? I truthfully can’t answer that question. Would I still be happy and confident in myself? Would I live each day knowing I’m a worthwhile person who deserves to be treated with the same respect as everyone else? Would I have a boyfriend? Honestly, I don’t think so. Underneath the exterior I have always been the same person, yet it’s that very exterior that has made all the difference.

Sometimes society makes me sick.

The Man Who Never Smiled

There was a man who never smiled…

Who sat on his couch all day –

Sometimes wrapped in a blanket and sometimes not,

Watching his grandchild play with her toys.

Often he would hold the girl in his lap,

And read her fairytales from an old, black book:

Like Hansel and Gretel and the story of Heidi.

Or he would teach her German – Schmetterling and Auf Wiedersehen –

Or show her how to count.

Some days, the man taught her about chores,

Like how to dry the dishes.

(But never the knives)!

And on other days, he taught her about school,

Showing her how to read or tell time –

Auf Deutsch, natürlich.

He hugged the girl frequently and kissed her often,

And snuck her money when her parents weren’t looking.

And when they were looking.

And he explained to her why she shouldn’t jump on the furniture,

Or put a plastic bag over her head.

The man protected her from the world

(In his eyes, she was a perfect angel)

And when anyone raised their voice to the girl,

He would shield her with his menacing glare.

They ate lunch together, too:

Usually macaroni, but scrambled eggs on Sunday!

And afterwards they sat on his couch –

To read or count or tell time

(In English and in German).

Then when she got bored,

The girl would get up to play with her toys

And proudly, the man would watch.

And every day the girl would grin –

Bigger and bigger with each passing moment.

Because she had a secret about the man who never smiled:

She could see him smiling all along.

Dedicated to my Opa, the best grandpa anyone could ever have. I know you're smiling down on me from Heaven. 

Just Purple

Well, I haven't been doing a very good job at sticking to the bi-monthly blog post resolution - so here's an old poem that will hopefully make up for it:

Just Purple

As far as hues are concerned she is purple.

No scent or sound,

No texture or taste,

Just a blotch of color in a rainbow of shades.

Beautiful of course, but never something more –

Never something different.

Just purple.

Naturally, she can be altered –

Paler, darker, brighter, deeper.

She can take the form of a beautiful butterfly

Sailing smoothly through still air,

Or a lazy, land-locked hippo.

Even the syllables of her name can be changed –

Lilac, violet, lavender,

Or ‘Lila’ by German tongue.

But the roots of her purpose are never destroyed.

Still, she is only purple.

Just another color in an endless heaven of hues,

Just a single flower in a rainbow garden,

She is a song for the eyes, but otherwise useless –

Until dark.

Only then, when a blanket of black eerily covers the colors,

Is she more than just a pigment –

More than just purple.

Somehow different than before, she is needed now –

Wanted.

Loved.

But still, she remains unchanged –

The same as what she always was,

She is purple.

Just Purple.

13 Things I Learned in 2013

Here's a quick look at the most important things I learned last year. With all this knowledge, there's no way I can make any mistakes in 2014!

1. Ed Sheeran hoodies are EXTREMELY difficult to acquire in Canada - which is particularly frustrating, especially if you don't even like Ed Sheeran. 

2. If you're going to do a food challenge in America, you are going to have a stomachache afterwards - there's no avoiding this.

3. Guinea pigs eat like, well, pigs. And pet treats are expensive. 

4. When you lose 100lbs you will also lose all of your natural insulation with it - and Canadian winters are cold! 

5. Relationships are tough and a lot of people get hurt - but the love of a hamster is forever. 

6. Don't ever sing in the bathroom when you have repair people at your house, especially if you can't sing and only know a third of the lyrics. It just creates an awkward situation for everyone. 

7. Getting your nose pierced doesn't actually hurt. (Until you switch out the stud and get a fricking little white bump on your nose. Then it stings like a mother.......)!

8. Thirty-five year old men hitting on you when you're twenty years old is not cute or flattering. It's actually solidly creepy. 

9. Coffee is hot, and when you spill an entire pot of it all over yourself it hurts. 

10. It takes a VERY long time to shampoo the smell of sweat, shame and pancakes out of your hair. Also, never take a dish washing job at IHOP.

But in all seriousness,

11. People will hurt you and lie to you, and you don't need to take crap from anyone. But sometimes you'll find someone who's worth the pain. 

12. You can walk away from God, but He'll never walk away from you. And when you're ready to come back to Him, He'll welcome you with open arms. 

13. Take a second to breathe - be in the moment. Life is so precious, and you don't want to miss a second of it.