POM WONDERFUL! Pomegranate juice is mighty tasty. Especially when it's free and comes in cute little baby bottles. I was thrilled to receive a case of POM from these good folks, and it was the first time I'd ever had 100% pomegranate juice. If you haven't tried it, go get some! It's delicious. And has many health benefits, too.
My husband drank most of the juice, since he's a known juice consoisseur & a wee bit greedy when it comes to cold wet things in the fridge. But, after I read about these health benefits, I've decided my husband can drink all the pomegranate juice he wants. Click the link & you'll know what I'm talking about.
Than you POM Wonderful for sharing your juice with me. You're a little pricey, but you're tasty. I'm sure you'll be finding your way into my shopping cart more often.
I started fretting about my 40th birthday before I even turned 39. Seriously, I set up a countdown on FaceBook in March 2009 entitled "Laura turns 40."
Being that I'm now only 228 days from the big 4-OH (I know it's 228 days thanks to the above mentioned countdown), I'm greedily inhaling any and all whiffs of hope that middle age isn't all that bad. This article about Amby Burfoot was one of those stories of hope. Sure, he's a Boston marathon winner, which makes him practically super human, but he's still human. So his "age defying mindset" tips are refreshing as spring rain. Even if you're not a runner, you might enjoy his point of view.
In case you were wondering, I've fallen off the Crack the Fat Loss Code wagon. It all started last Thursday, which was a Carb Up day that I never came Down from.
Yesterday I was logging my anxious & depressed mood into my "MOOD" excel spreadsheet (what would I do without my excel spreadsheets? I use them to track EVERYTHING). And I realized that my anxiety and depression ratcheted up on the day I started eating bad carbs. And just like my carbs haven't come back down, neither has my anxiety or depression. I've had a rough week and a half.
Now, even though this should not be an AHA! moment, being that I've been dealing with food and weight loss and depression for most of my adult life, the pieces sort of fit together at last while I was studying the columns & rows of "moods.xls."
I googled "anxiety and depression and sugar and carbohydrates" and found several entries that confirmed my theory that my depression and anxiety come raging when I'm eating the wrong stuff. I mean, I knew I felt guilty & fat & bloated when I ate sugary fattening foods. And I knew I got the wants & wanted more when I ate those foods. And I knew my night eating cravings came back when I fed my body junk during the day.
But I didn't realize--either because I blocked it on purpose or because my subconscience was blocking it for me, protective little bastard that it is--that sugar and chocolate and the like can cause anxiety and depression to worsen in some people.
What the hell? I asked myself. Why hasn't anyone ever told me this before? Why didn't I know this? I'm not talking about you eat poorly, you gain weight, you feel bad about yourself, you're depressed. I'm talking about the hard-core biochemical shit that's been screwing with my brain lately.
Maybe it's because I'm getting older. Maybe the wellbutrin is messing things up in my sensitive little noggin. Or maybe, just maybe, I am sensitive to sugar in more ways than it just makes me fat.
Maybe it's making me crazy, too.
So, one of the resources I found was for the book "Potatoes Not Prozac." Have you heard of it? I remember reading that title years and years ago & thinking the author must be nuts to think a potato could replace prozac. But after reading some other websites and reading an interview with the author about symptoms that are very similar to mine, I ordered the book off of Amazon yesterday and it's in my hands today. (God bless those speedy folks at Amazon.com.)
I must confess something to you now. And this is not a pretty confession. It's very difficult, actually. So sit down if you're not sitting down already.
The primary reason I caved & bought yet another book is because she talked about how craving sugar can eventually lead to craving alcohol. I have never ever been much of a drinker. Never. I didn't drink in high school or college, and in my early 20s when I was going out with girlfriends, I was always the sober designated driver. I've been a sober prude for most of my adult life. Ask anyone who's known me for longer than two years and they'd agree that I can be the world's biggest wet blanket.
But in the past year, that's started to change. I get home from work and I need a drink (man, that sounds just awful). I automatically reach for a bottle of Mike's Hard Pomegranate Lemonade (which, I believe, is NOT 100% pomegranate juice so it unfortunately does not have the same benefits as POM Wonderful) the minute I'm changed out of my work/workout clothes. Some nights I want a 2nd bottle after the kids are in bed.
The weeks I was doing the Crack diet successfully, I was still having a Mike's once in a while. I could still lose, as long as I stayed away from junk food. Junk drink seemed to not derail me.
Except, actually, it did knock me off the rails, because now one bottle isn't enough.
Yes, I know this is a problem. A big, ugly, fucking grown up problem.
So. Add that to the list of problems I've got.
Middle aged acne is another big one that I don't yet have a solution to, but that's for another day.
(Believe it or not I'm not drinking while writing this. I know I sound a little loopy. I'm feeling okay right now and I'm on an upswing I guess. Those upswings bring out the goofiness in my writing style, to be sure.)
Part of me can't wait to get into this book over the weekend and see if it can help. Part of me thinks I'm a total freaking moron to think yet another book is going to fix me.
But the biggest part of me feels like it's all going to be okay, as long as I keep searching, keep learning, keep listening to what my brain and body are trying to tell me.
I am running, and I am sleeping, and I am loved by my family. The rest of it will work itself out, God willing.