“You’re Going to DIE Eating This!”

Scene: Last night, Chipotle Mexican Grill, where I tend to stop on Fridays for carry out.
Me: Minding my biz, ordering my bowl, “No rice, no beans, extra cheese, sides of sour cream and guac.”
Person in line behind me: “You’re going to DIE eating this! Sour cream AND Guacamole AND extra cheese?”
Me: “I’ve lost 40 pounds eating like this.”
Person (stranger, mind you): “That’s a lot of fat!”
Line server: “She eats her all the time and she’s losing weight!”
Person: (crickets)

I do eat a non-keto meal every so often, but everything else in the above  meme? True for me. Also:

• My Type 2 Diabetes is now in remission.
• a1C: 5.4
• 40 pounds: gone.
• My go-to restaurants for meals I can eat and lose weight: Chipotle (with sour cream AND guacamole AND extra cheese, mean girl), Porkie’s in Apopka, 4Rivers.
• Cholesterol: 195
• Triglycerides “perfect” -in the words of my endocrinologist.

You get the drift.
My brain is clearer, my memory is sharper. There are studies that show that ketones are excellent for brain health and even significantly improve symptoms of dementia. In my case I hope to prevent it by eating this way. I am not a doctor. If this is a concern for you, here’s a podcast that breaks it down:

2 Keto Dudes-the one about Dementia

Actually, this podcast is an excellent source for Keto information. If you are curious I’d recommend you start with episode one and work your way through.

2 Keto Dudes Episode 1

Fat is not your enemy. I do not even worry about how much fat is in the food. Results of that non-worry-refer above.

Nope, I’m not pencil-slim. I’m on several meds, four of which have weight gain as a main side-effect. I’m planning to be healthy enough to rid myself of most of these meds by retirement. My current plan is to allow the way I fuel my body to aid in not just the getting healthy part, and not needing the meds, but with continued weight loss. I did see myself recently on our school’s video camera, and for the first time since I was probably 14, was not upset by how I looked (though that may have to do more with my hard-fought battle for some kind of healthy self-esteem than my actual size, lol).

For me, exercise is also vital. Fortunately I love to move. But for me, it’s not just vital for weight loss, it’s just necessary for brain/body/emotional well-being. That said, during the six weeks that I couldn’t workout much because of a bunch of leg vein procedures, I did gain 15 pounds, so yeah, there’s that. If you are in Orlando, come with me to Jazzercise Mills 50. You will have the best time and meet some remarkable and inspiring souls. Then they will become your friends and your life will be better for it.

Why write all this? Because I’ve had several friends ask about the Keto way of fueling the body. Because I’ve had several others (including complete strangers at Chipotle, wtf?) who have advised that I was doing something unhealthy (may I again send your eyeballs to results at top of post). Because when I was first diagnosed with Type 2, I was given the diet by my GP from the American Diabetes Association that recommended as many as 300 carbs a day, most of which are supposed to come from grains. I followed it diligently for a long time, during which I gained 60 pounds, lived in Brain Fog, moved like a (non-cute) sloth, and watched my blood-work become more horrendous with every check. I cried in the Doc’s office, to which he responded, “Well, Diabetes is a progressive disease; keep up this diet and exercise, and I’ll prescribe a higher Metformin dose.”

No. Just no. Nix on the “progressive disease” part.

Time to hit the research, and hit it hard. Time to get out of the ADA brochures and recommended diets and find alternative information that was not conspiracy/hearsay/friend-of-a-friend based, but had science (in which I believe, fyi) and studies (published in reputable sources, rather than on “What Doctors DON’T Want You to Know!” blogs) to back up the science.

Found it. All roads led to a Ketogenic way of eating. I found the above-mentioned podcast to which I’ve been listening for three years now. I like this one because they publish links to the science/research in their show notes, and they have a huge and terrific forum where people can share their experiences and support each other. And they’re fun.

If you’re still reading, you’re either very polite, care about me, are a Keto person, or have not much else to do at the moment. It does make me sad that those who stopped reading two sentences in are most likely those who think I’m going to die eating Low-carb, High-fat. Confirmation bias is a thing.

Sometimes education and research and yes, facts + evidence, trump confirmation bias.

(also, staying kind with your words and staying in your “I-didn’t-ask-for-your-mean-comment” lane at Chipotle, or in the Staff Room, or your niece’s dinner table, or the grocery checkout? Those are just the right things to do.)

Peace and Low Carb, friends.

Standardized Tests Are Not Objective Measures of Anything

If you teach a kid, birthed a kid, are a kid, used to be a kid, or are planning to rely on today’s kids to whip this planet and its inhabitants back into shape, please read every word of this. And then tell everyone you know to read every word of this. Thank you, Steven Singer.

gadflyonthewallblog

When it comes to standardized tests, most people are blinded by science.

Or at least the appearance of science.

Because there is little about these assessments that is scientific, factual or unbiased.

And that has real world implications when it comes to education policy.

First of all, the federal government requires that all public school children take these assessments in 3-8th grade and once in high school. Second, many states require teachers be evaluated by their students’ test scores.

Why?

It seems to come down to three main reasons:

1) Comparability
2) Accountability
3) Objectivity

COMPARABILITY

First, there is a strong desire to compare students and student groups, one with the other.

We look at learning like athletics. Who has shown the most success, and thereby is better than everyone else?

This is true for students in a single class, students in a single grade, an…

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Thoughtless Political Extremists? Us?

Click the link below for an interesting read about the ‘echo chamber’ that many people inhabit courtesy of Social Media. I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’d care to comment.

Something to think about from BigThink.com

On Not Being a Reader…Yet

We’ve got to stop stomping on the feelings of worthiness within our youngest kids. They’ll read when it’s time.

These are not my words, but they could be.

Pernille Ripp

She tells me she doesn’t want to go to first grade.  That she no longer wants to be a first grader.

This child who loves school.

This child who loves her teachers.

This child who has been beaming since the day she realized that after kindergarten came first grade, another year to learn, another year to grow.

And yet, here she is, declaring that for her school is no longer where she wants to be.  So I ask, what changed?  Why not?  And she gets a little quiet, sinks a little bit into my body, snuggles up as if the secret is hard to carry and tells me quietly, “I don’t know how to read…”

Because in her mind, all first graders know how to read.  Because in her mind all first graders know how to look at a book and automatically unlock all of its secrets just like that. …

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Pass the Compassion, please…

(when your whole country is a trigger, it’s hard to dodge the bullets)

Well, happy Thanksgiving, all!

(DISCLAIMER!  By ‘you’ I don’t mean YOU -unless the ‘you’ fits. This is how I write-for me, “one this” or “one that” is cumbersome and too formal for most of my topics.)

I have a bit of advice for you as you prepare to sit down with family and friends and instead of speaking your gratitude, would rather expound on the ubiquitous, never-ending stream of sexual abuse/assault/harassment stories that abound in our nation right now:

Don’t, unless you’re going to speak with non-judgment and compassion.

Seriously, don’t. Unless you’re willing to open your mind and heart and listen? Willing to have the uncomfortable and honest discussion? Willing to stop victim-blaming? Willing to prioritize empathy over your need to dominate the conversation/be “right” in an argument, or, for some, validate your own previous behavior? Nah, today, especially, is not the day.

Why?

(DISCLAIMER again: I’m not espousing that the topic shouldn’t be discussed, ever. On the contrary-honest and fearless exchanges on this subject, had they not been avoided, could have saved countless {and I do meant countless, having seen all of the “me, too” hashtags} girls and boys from life-altering trauma. Talk about it. LISTEN about it. LEARN about it. Early and often, please.)

Because tensions are high. Because in some families, confrontation is the deal during family get-togethers. Because copious amounts of alcohol. People get really stupid when they drink, while still perceiving themselves and their behavior as perfectly rational, and of course, ‘right.’ Because one person’s victim conspiracy theory comment is another’s trigger. Yep. I said it. The “T” word. Because, to use another term at which some people  now scoff, family should be your “safe place.” Whether it be a thoughtless comment, or a relentless victim-blaming  tirade, you could really be stabbing somebody in the heart.

Because, if you’re in a large group situation, no matter what your political leanings (and I still don’t get how sexual abuse became a partisan topic), chances are very good that one or more of these are the case:

• Someone at the table has experienced molestation, an assault, or harassment, and you just weren’t chosen to be in on the story, or that someone hasn’t chosen to speak yet.
• If someone at the table has been molested, it’s very possible that the perp is at the table too, passing you the mashed potatoes.
• The victim (who will be referred to as ‘survivor’ from this point) is already tied in knots at the notion of sitting at this table (whether perp is present or not) and trying to act normal.
• The survivor has been emotionally shredded for weeks now, as there has been nothing else discussed on talk shows, in kitchens, or in the news-the topics of sexual assault and pedophilia are inescapable. While there is so much good in women and men coming forward and speaking their truth, the consequence for survivors is the daily or hourly re-living of events that slice and dice more keenly than whatever you’re using to julienne the veggies for your feast.
• The survivor across the table is so tired, and just wants to enjoy a few hours of peace and fellowship with her family before the next news story about the latest accusation comes out and fuels the cycle of brain-fry/heartbreak.
• Your aunt/sister/mother/cousin/brother has spent weeks/months/years/decades wondering: what her life could have been like without the disaster; what greatness she might have achieved without the anchor of (unearned) shame weighing her to the floor; what it might have felt like to enjoy her thin-ness when she was; why being pretty was a crime or being an ounce overweight was the ruination of a woman; how faithful he could have been had the church not been a place of horror; what self-esteem feels like; what good could have been done with the tens of thousands spent on therapy and meds; what ‘normal’ is; trying not to cry when his friends talk about ideal childhoods. Wondering why people say, ‘such a long time ago, just get over it!’ when apparently it’s only the survivor’s club who knows that getting over “it” doesn’t happen.  “It”  became part of what molded her into the person she is.  It’s one of many aspects, to be sure, but those who lived through it have permanent scars, and those scars are burning right now. You could douse the flames just a little if you choose:
• When you bloviate about party plants, what the governor thinks, what Jane Curtin signed, the “He totally denies it!” proclamation, or the more local “what was she wearing?” “was she drunk?” analysis, the person who just passed the green bean casserole uses every ounce of self-control she had not to bean you with it. His mind is short-circuiting and he’s making the healthy promise to himself to never attend a family function ever again, for his own sanity’s sake.
• If Drunk Uncle begins a rant, be the one to exclaim, “New Subject!” if that’s the best you can do. Better yet, first tell him he’s wrong, then change the subject. Your table mates will (silently, most likely) thank you. The survivor(s) at the table will take a breath and smile a little, knowing s/he has a champion in you.

Think:

• Trying to function unscathed for the last few weeks-trying to avoid teeth-grinding, sudden tears, nightmares, or flashbacks? Nearly impossible. The survivors need major consideration and compassion right now. Just because you haven’t heard about it doesn’t mean that your sister, cousin, mother, aunt, or grandparent-isn’t holding it together by a thread.
• As in the meme above, if you would prefer a probable pedophile to a Democrat in Alabama, might be a good idea to keep that gem of a notion to yourself, no matter whose company you’re enjoying. It also might be a good idea for some introspection, but I digress.
• These overindulgence-fueled conversations can make a survivor, for a few moments, anyway, forget about how steel-strong he really is and how relentlessly courageous she is at her core.  It puts a survivor back to a place he or she has chosen to transcend; this place may fit your comfort zone because it’s the world you recognize, but for so many, there’s no comfort in that particular familiar.
• As ever, as always, kindness matters. It matters more than political bent, more than your desire to score verbal points over your nephew, more than your ego or your biases.

Choose kindness today. So many people, survivors or not, will be Thankful for it.

Peace, friends,

Compassion, friends.

Courage, “club.”

*New comment below; it’s a must-read! Thanks, Lisa King.

Visit:

No More Website

Rainn.org

 

 

 

Dear Men, This Is Why We’re Tired

This post. Read.

Drifting Through

Emotional labor is unseen. It’s the energy women spend managing other’s feelings and emotions, making people comfortable, or living up to society’s expectations… the barrage of expectations we feel from the time we’re told to be nice and polite while boys are told not to cry. It’s a thing. It’s also a weight carried by some femmes and some men, especially if they’re the main caregiver in the family.

But this is not about that kind of emotional labor.

When I read Cara Delevigne’s account of her harassment at the hands of Harvey Weinstein, I felt every word. When I heard the recording of Ambra Battilana Gutierrez pleading with Harvey Weinstein to let her leave, I felt it in my bones.

In the words these women bravely shared with us, I heard everything they felt. The fear. The confusion. The disbelief. The shame. All of those feelings are a cocktail…

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It’s my Party, and I’ll post if I want to!

“Well, I SAW it online, so…”

This post is borne of the “furious-typing-Kermit-the-Frog” moment I had last night, aimed at someone I love, and is also my reaction to a whole passel of re-posted and inaccurate posts that hit my newsfeed this morning that are drivel passed off as actual news.

Read first for context:   https://goo.gl/oUvJh5

Repeat after me, 3 times:

“These memes, unverified stories, and mislabeled/doctored photos are hurtful, incite anger, perpetuate prejudice and spread lies.

These memes, unverified stories, and mislabeled/doctored photos are hurtful, incite anger, perpetuate prejudice and spread lies.

These memes, unverified stories, and mislabeled/doctored photos are hurtful, incite anger, perpetuate prejudice and spread lies.”

I will admit to posting a few unverified stories over the years. Not many, but it has happened. When called out, I have apologized and deleted the post.

It doesn’t matter to me what party or agenda the BS meme or ‘story’ supports-if it’s inaccurate or unkind, it’s inaccurate or unkind.

A couple of hints: if the source (hint: the word “source:______” is located at the bottom of the post, or if you’re forwarding an article you can tell whether the article is from a verifiable news source/show or simply a blog/opinion show) is an email from Drunk Uncle with a million forward arrows and has multicolored flashing ALL CAPS, or if the post has any version of:

Want to Change the World?

With your help, ALL kids can believe they can!

I do.

More than anything.

I want to help erase Inequality, Inequity, Racism, and Biases of all kinds from the face of this Earth.

I’m just a teeny drop in the bucket, but if you’re so inclined, you can add a drop to the bucket by supporting a GoFundMe campaign that aims to fill the buckets of some kids at my new school. I will add more to this post later; in the meantime, I invite you to check out my campaign below:

https://www.gofundme.com/WantToChangeTheWorld 

Peace and Equity, Friends.

 

Why I didn’t march…

The comment I left on Mamta’s post: “Hearing your perspectives was an opportunity to learn-usually what happens with your words. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to practice what I preach and really listen (with my eyes and heart, since I’m reading) for understanding.”
I know this woman. She is wise and wonderful. I truly hope you learn through her daughter’s lens, as I did. I did march-see pic below.
Peace~

justmamta ... on a journey to hope and liberation ...

I had every plan to participate in or contribute to, in some way, our local Women’s March last week.

The reason I didn’t march is not the reason that most people who know me might think.

I am a critic of (white) feminism. I personally don’t identify as a feminist although I do support feminist efforts- more on that here. Ultimately, feminism and I have a complicated relationship. Feminism and my friends who claim feminism as a guiding value (and one that I admire), ask me to show up in solidarity and sisterhood, without reciprocity of that solidarity. Time and time again. I just can’t do #nicewhitelady feminism because it has historically been at the expense of my own.

But, I wasn’t against the march. In fact, I was very excited. Amidst my complicated relationship with feminism, I also believe that we all need to stay in it, and…

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The Children are Listening. Still.

The children WERE listening. Heard by me during school bus duty yesterday: (from a fourth grader) “He hates Black people, we’re all gonna die.” (from a 2nd grader in place of the usual good morning greeting) “Ms. Frisella, we’re doomed!” (from another 2nd grader) “He hates Black people and women.” (from the daughter of upstanding citizens, Haitian immigrants) “My brother says they’re gonna come to the door and take my parents back to Haiti.”

All of the above: beautiful, frightened, Black children.
Teachers, parents, everyone???
We’ve got a lot of work to do. Our kids are scared.
Get it together and start talking nice.

Give our kids ways to talk about the election in ways that make them feel safe and heard. Allay the fears-maybe by asking them things like, “So, moving forward, what are things we can do to make your life (this community, this country, the world) a better, more peaceful place? What actions can we take together that will make you feel safe?” Take away the helpless feeling of fear and replace it with positive action.

There is NO excuse for the United States to have had children living in fear yesterday because of the Presidential election results. The grownups did this (no finger-pointing; people in all parties are guilty of the animosity, of crafting fear-inciting ads, of sharing mean-spirited posts and un-fact-based “facts”,  of re-posting great uncle Frank’s “share if you agree!” memes, and of the unkind kitchen table talk- and remember I teach elementary school and “S/he did it FIRST!” bounces right off teachers), and shame on us.

United States, people. Yep, for more than half of us, our candidate didn’t win. We have to move forward and do our best to make the best of an unwanted situation. That’s harder to do for little hearts and minds.

United States. How about we let our kids be kids? How about we stop scaring them? There’s something more important than anybody’s need to post or say something inflammatory.

What, you ask? What’s bigger than my need to make a point on Facebook and burn that old high school classmate who disagrees with me so I can give myself a little false validation? What’s more precious than me using my frantic little typing fingers to put someone down so I can feel superior for just one second?

Children.
They are listening. They have been all along, and they’ve been hearing some pretty scary stuff from us-from those of us whose sacred duty is to look out for them. Teachers, parents, grandparents, mentors and elected officials.

They’re afraid, and for many of them, rightfully so. What are we going to do to make them feel safe and heard?

What are YOU going to do to make them safe?

Peace, friends. 

 

Deafening Silence: White Silence and Alton Sterling

This. Break the silence.

(Excellent words, but not mine. Re-blogged from another writer)

 

Form Follows Function

I want to start by being very specific about who I am talking to; this post is meant for people who look like me, those of us with white skin.

Many of you woke up this morning and heard the news about Alton Sterling, the 37 year old man who was shot and killed by the police in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The sickening feeling in your stomach probably hit you hard as you watched the cell phone footage of a police officer charging and tackling Sterling to the ground. You knew what was coming next. And, within seconds you saw it: the police officer mounts Sterling like a UFC fighter. There is no confrontation. No struggle. Sterling is subdued and then another officer yells “Gun. Gun.” The officer on top of Sterling pulls his gun and within seconds fires multiple rounds killing Alton Sterling.

This morning my Facebook feed…

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“Yes, You Are Allowed To Do That!” One Principal’s Mission to Bring Back Play in School

Let them play.

Every so often I come across a post whose truth needs to be read by as many people as possible. I’m posting this here, I’m tweeting it, and I’m posting to my Facebook page, and I encourage you to link to the story as well. Click the link below for the full post, and thank you Brett Gustafson for sharing this!

by Brett Gustafson As a principal for the last 13 years, I have come to the realization that the biggest threat to the emotional and academic well-being of our children is me – maybe not me persona…

Click for full piece:

“Yes, You Are Allowed To Do That!” One Principal’s Mission to Bring Back Play in School

“Did your Water Bottle Explode?”

…that question was asked of me on Friday morning as I mopped up the 3-foot radial area of where I’d just finished a Jazzercise workout.

“Nah, it’s just me,” I replied. I was dripping from head to toe and didn’t want anyone from the next class to slip and break a bone because of me. We laughed and I left the studio, feeling accomplished and strong.

Strong.

After being sorta sick for a few years and really sick for the last two, it hit me. I haven’t felt STRONG for eons. So here’s another tribute to the program that brought me here (along with my own steely and steadfast determination, and a return to lowcarb life):

 It has been 6 months or so since my friend Nancy invited me to join her at the fabulous “Mills/50” Jazzercise Studio in Orlando. I have powered through 63 classes so far. I haven’t had to stop to suck on that blasted asthma inhaler once.  I don’t care how tough this workout is; even when I’m switching from doing the regular choreography to a march-

(which I still do occasionally, just because combining performing the steps with the actual brainwork necessary to do so can stress me into a little chest constriction, ha)

(because I may be a musician but I am most assuredly not a dancer)

(and because splitting a beat when gasping for air isn’t pretty)

-I am moving. It is a triumph; those of you who knew me before these chronic conditions took up residence in this body know just how much it means.

So to Laura and Teri, thanks for the encouragement and advice. To the Katies, Kim, Christine, and Bernadette, whose classes I seem to land in most often, thanks for inspiring me to get through every class and for making it so much damn fun.

To the women I’ve met at the studio-Jane, Carrie, Gwen. Kate, Lisa, Shelley, Robin, Leslie, and those whose names I’ve yet to learn-I appreciate your example and your encouragement. Helen, I’m always so happy to see you because you bring such happy energy (I’ve never known anybody who could smile through a whole workout until now) to a class.

Penny, I already knew you but I’m glad to think of you as a workout buddy now!

Nancy, thanks for the simple invite and that first class that put me on the path back to me.

Still fighting, always “becoming”

(Judi Sheppard Missett, wherever you may be, thanks to you for inventing this workout)

(Disclaimer: other than my regular workouts and eternal gratitude, I am not affiliated with Jazzercise, nor do I profit from expressing said gratitude)

Peace, friends -and continued becoming–

Denis Ian: When Do Children Get to Be Children Again?

Thank you Denis Ian.
This is a good way to think about the current state of our Education system, an excellent sentiment for your Parenting toolbox, and a notion to carry with you to the Voting Booth!

Diane Ravitch's blog

Is childhood a lost concept? Have we decided to treat five year olds like little adults? Reader Denis Ian reacts to the post about a child’s first day in kindergarten, which was spent taking assessments, not playing or socializing. Taking assessments:

I find it harder and harder to repeat myself when I bump into tales like this.

I sort of cringe myself into almost-anger because what we all see before us is so macabre and so twisted. And it reappears week after week after week.

In this case, which is hardly unique, a child’s first several moments in school … her first actual memories perhaps! … are of evaluations, testing, and assessments. This sounds awfully army-ish to me … and not very school-ish at all.

But the essential question … the one that should be asked first … is very simple: Who thinks this is a good idea? Who thinks…

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aw, come ON

Please watch the video I’ve linked below, then read the rant.

How to Deal with Protesters with Understanding and Civility.

Protesters: heard and acknowledged rather than threatened, or called “bad people” who are ruining our country, or sucker-punched. No violence incited. Was the President happy? Clearly not. But he still let them know that he heard them and understood their frustration and was hoping they’d sit and remain part of the conversation. Whether you like our President or not-hopefully you can see that he was certainly civil, inclusive and Presidential in his response.

(yes, I know this was more than a year ago, which doesn’t reduce its impact; the contrary, the contrast is even more striking to me, as it was all over the news when it happened and could have set an example for others at future events. I also remember the “You’re in my house!” response at another time, which I must admit I thought was pretty great. But you are hereby absolved of sending me videos of every time our President was heckled and responded less graciously. I’m linking you to this one example because, well, it’s exemplary!)

I haven’t unleashed Rachel Maddow’s time-stamped proof of incitement and encouragement to resort to violence. I still might. But I don’t know who would still need proof at this point that a current front-runner needs to choose his words in a more thoughtful and kind manner. There is no good intent behind the dreadful things he says.

Fat is the Enemy of all Mankind.

Cartoon by Barry Deutsch
Used with the artist’s permission.

Dear Girls and Women Everywhere,

If you ever hear anyone say the words in this post title to you, or anything with a comparable meaning, I ask you to PLEASE know that a perfectly acceptable response is,

“That is complete and utter bullshit; please do not project your skewed views of what is important onto me, as I am perfectly wonderful just the way I am.”

or,

“What an extremely shallow world view you have. I pity you.”

or,

“Interesting. I would have thought that bigotry, violence, war, or pestilence would be more of a humankind-destroyer than fat. But that’s just me.”

or,