Die-or-Beat-This

This week I learned a new word. It literally stopped me in my tracks on Tuesday morning. The word in question, Obesogenic, is not even in the dictionary. This word, used as a description of the American population today on National Public Radio (a favorite of mine), was introduced during a program with a panel of experts discussing the current worldwide diabetes epidemic. The numbers were astounding; with a projected one in ten adults having diabetes by 2030. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) looked even further into the future and projected a shocking one in three Americans will have diabetes by 2050. A real threat to people, but we do have some control of our destiny. A large proportion of diabetes sufferers have type two diabetes caused by obesity. .

Now, before you denounce me for writing this, I am not reproaching anyone who is overweight and I know that there are those who suffer from obesity due to legitimate illnesses but we have to open our eyes and look around us. For the most part, in any shopping center, you can observe more overweight children than I have ever seen in my life, but those children are the adults of 2030!

Two simple things, education and leading by example, can go a very long way to help children and adults alike to fight this problem, but it seems many are keeping their eyes closed to it..

Let us first take us, the parents. We strive to keep our children safe, help them grown strong and healthy, yet how many of us have whisked them through a drive through one too many times and feed them food full of fat, just because it is quicker or easier for our schedule? I will hold my hand up to that, shame on me! Of course a drive through occasionally is perfectly fine, but there are too many out there who use this as their staple diet.

I hear all the time that it is cheaper to eat convenience food than go to the supermarket, especially for the lower income bracket. However, a visit once a week, to the local farmers market will fill your fridge with local fruit and vegetables for not more than the cost of a family meal in a fast food restaurant.

Additionally, there is the question of physical activity. Ok, so not everyone can afford to join a gym, but walking is free and the kids love it! Making health a fun part of life will have a long lasting effect on our children and, if we are lucky, undo some of the damage we have already done to ourselves.

That brings me on to education, where the objective is to pass academic subjects with, it seems, no consideration as to if you are healthy or not. When I was a kid in England, we did Physical Education as a full part of our curriculum. It was not an add on once-a-week class or one semester of the school year, it was all year come rain or shine. We would change into gym clothes and play games such as football, netball, and basketball. We would run or do athletics. We were active and we loved it.

We had cooking and nutrition classes and believe me, if you tried to cheat as I did once, well let's just say if you did the crime you paid with time. I did and I got detention for sneaking in a packet cake mix.

Moving on quickly, don't want to dwell on my misdemeanors, let's talk about school lunches? They used to be nutritious, if not that appealing at times. Sodas and candy were not allowed. Never in a month of Sundays, as we say in England, would you have found Chick-fil-A or a gooey, saturated fat infested pizza on the menu. No, sorry but I am astonished that this is the reality in our schools. Yes, there are healthy options there, but come on, kids are kids, which one do you think they will choose?

Do we need to make a stand and voice for a change? I think we do! I think we should advocate helping educate our children, from every angle, to ensure that they grow up to become healthy adults. The national campaign is the driving force, but we are the army that can make it happen. Let's kick this self driven diabetes in its big butt (sorry couldn't help it) and ensure our kids have a long, healthy future.

Without this, our children are destined to become the quoted statistics of 2050.




 

Housework is Exercise, Right?

The last doctor's appointment that I went to carried the usual round of questions. When we got to the one where he asked, "How often in a week do you exercise?" I went off into the realm of Mommydom. I went through my usual routine and told him that I have a four-year-old son. I'm constantly moving and I never sit down unless it's that quiet time in the morning, the time just before my children's' bedtime, or after they are finally sleeping. In my bubble of a world that feels like exercise. I'm up and down the stairs (cardio), folding laundry, (Good for the arms, right?) and lifting and carrying hundreds of pounds of groceries into the car and then into the house every single month. (There has to be some body building in that too.) After a chuckle and a grin, he informed me that what I had was an "active lifestyle" but it wasn't exercise. I couldn't help but wonder if the man had ever kept up a house, had to prepare meals and rush to ready for company in a sweat. Mopping ain't for the faint of heart.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, that wasn't helping to shed the pounds or build up muscle. I know the older we get the more we lose muscle mass, but living with a four-year-old son, I keep forgetting my 51 years. Most days I still believe I'm, at least, in my thirties. Silly me. So I started my exercise program this week. I was going to start with water aerobics, figuring that in a pool, no one can see you sweat, but the best laid plans can go awry. In this case, I'm glad they did.

The gym we belong to wouldn't allow my 13 year-old to go up on the gym floor without a parent, while I went on to water aerobics. My daughter was so disappointed that I changed my plans. We ran back home and I pulled on sweat pants and a T-shirt and we headed back to the gym. When we pulled into the parking lot, my daughter saw the women in the pool doing the water aerobics. "Mom, I think you would have been the youngest there." Turning my head I saw the sea of gray hair and cracked up. This was definitely a more mature program. In my naïve way, I hadn't considered that was even a possibility and it truly wouldn't have been any more exercise for me than my usual daily routine.

My daughter and I went into the gym armed with i-Pods and bottled water. For the next hour I proceeded to amaze myself as copious amounts of sweat that left my body. You would have thought that I was mostly made of water…oh yeah, that's right, we are. Anyway, after the hour I was spent, but oddly energized, and I haven't missed a day since. The minute I put in the ear buds, and the i-Pod starts playing; I'm lost in the music and the beat. I had no idea that this was something that I would actually enjoy. I almost can't wait to tell my doctor, but I'd still like to see him handle my mop and broom.

Really Being Real

By MaryAlford-Carman

It's all over the news: Woman gives her eight-year-old Botox. I can't fathom it. I question whatever happened to growing older gracefully and now here's a new dilemma. Let's have our eight-year-olds look like infants…ever look at a newborn? The last time I checked they were pretty wrinkled. What's next? Giving Botox in utero? What on earth has happened to our society? We have an obesity percentage that beats all in our nation, and yet the media and magazines force size zero models down our throats. Cher looks like she's in her late thirties, Madonna has the arms of a twenty something swimmer, and Demi Moore, well, she's just hot (dang it). But do the rest of us have what the celebrities have to maintain that kind of figure and face? What's wrong with being real?

In Forty-fied, an essay in www.4gaby.com by Rachel McClary, the age of 40 is compared to Eeyore with his stuffing falling out. I can only speak for myself, but my forties rocked, and nothing fell out. People couldn't guess my age and I could flat out keep up with my very energetic daughter. At the mere age of forty-eight, our son Jack was born (unexpected and totally fantastic). At fifty, I may be a little slower, but I keep my children alive, fed, and on time to all their events. (Their social calendar is fuller than mine.) All of this is without the help of a personal trainer and a boat load of Botox. Would I like to turn back the clock when I see the new wrinkles appear? You betcha, but not at the risk of my health.

Having something done to make you feel better is fine with me. Lift it, tuck it, smooth it or hike it up, but don't expect me to believe for one moment that an eight-year-old child has the mental capacity to make a decision to have Botox injected into her face. The mom in question was asked why she did this to her child, and her response was that it would benefit her child in beauty contests and that many were doing it. I heard my Daddy's voice at that point saying, "If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?" Yes, everyone seems to be "doing it" with Botox, face-lifts, and implants, but what is the reasoning? I don't want to look like everyone else; I want to look like me. When I smile, I want to actually smile, not merely wonder if I am. What is the message we're sending to our children? What happened to unique? What happened to being real? I'd really like to know.