Tea Time

I’m a tea freak, much to my dental hygienist’s chagrin. She says it stains my teeth. But I figure that’s what god gave us whitening strips for, right?

Because I’m sensitive to caffeine, I buy mostly decaf, although I drink regular iced tea in restaurants. I also steep most flavored and herbal teas with an equal amount of decaf green tea. Green tea provides high levels of the phytochemical EGCG, an antioxidant that may help reduce the risk of heart disease and cancer. While decaf green tea provides lower levels of EGCG than regular green tea, according to an MSNBC report, “Other studies show that markers of DNA damage decrease after drinking even black tea or decaf green tea.”

I didn’t realize how many tea flavors I had until I inventoried my cupboard for this blog. Here’s what I found, by brand:

Celestial Seasonings: Peppermint, Country Peach Passion, Wild Berry Zinger, Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride, Candy Cane Lane, Green Tea (I buy it in bulk and keep in a glass jar).

Trader Joe’s: Chamomile, Pomegranate White Tea, Irish Breakfast, Bedtime Tea (a mixture of peppermint and chamomile), Raspberry Infusion, Blackberry Infusion.

Tazo: Wild Sweet Orange

Bigelow: Earl Grey

London Fruit & Herb Company: Strawberry & Vanilla Fool

I bought the Tazo Wild Sweet Orange after spending copious amounts of money buying it by the (venti) cup at Starbucks. It’s strong, very strong, and works well iced. So do many of the teas in my cupboard, particularly the fruit kind. I steep four bags of flavored tea with four bags of green tea in eight cups of boiling water for 10-20 minutes (sometimes longer), remove the bags, allow to cool and then put it in a glass container in the refrigerator.

My latest tea find, ala Starbucks, is Vanilla Rooibos Latte. I was a little skeptical about a tea latte since I’m not a fan of milk in tea. Seems like heresy. Here’s the description from the S’bux website: “Full leaf African rooibos tea (naturally caffeine free), also known as red tea, paired with Tahitian vanilla and cinnamon. Sweetened with classic syrup and topped with steamed milk and velvety foam.”

The lady at S’bux never steers me wrong (she turned me on to the shamefully good cinnamon dolce latte and wild sweet orange tea), so I bought a tall rooibos (she pronounced it “roy bows”) to go. I wish, however, that I’d sat down and drank it like a sane person rather than take it on my hour-long drive from P’burgh to home.

There are no cup holders in the Jeep, so I tucked the cup precariously between my purse and a bag of Old Navy t-shirts. After 10 minutes, I was far enough out of the city and away from most of the traffic that I could put the Jeep in cruise and carefully lift the lid on the tea. Of course being S’bux, the tea was still a million degrees, but I wanted to get the tea bag out. With one eye on the road and the other on the cup, I yanked out the tea bag and threw it on the floor. Let’s just say there’re still remnants of “velvety foam” on the gears, seats and floor.

But it was worth the struggle and the wait for it to cool down. The vanilla is not overpowering and the milk simply adds texture, not flavor, which is good since I hate the taste of skim milk. A tall, non-fat latte is 2 WW Points and has 120 calories, no fat, 24 grams of carbs (a little high, I assume because of the syrup), 75 mgs sodium, and 20 percent RDA of calcium. It’s not an everyday treat, but that’s what makes it so special.

So let me have it, folks. What are your favorite teas? Some of you may suggest I try loose-leaf teas, and I plan to as soon as I find a good tea shop. (Any online suggestions since I live in Podunkville?) Also, how do you “take” your tea? I sweeten mine with stevia or take it straight up, but am I missing something by not adding milk or cream to certain teas?

I’m off to finish my cup of Earl Grey. I was in a bitter mood today. Wait, that didn’t come out right. I’m in a splendid mood, but I was in the mood for a bitter tea this morning, thus the Earl Grey. Hot. Just like Captain Picard.

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Anniversaries and Birthdays and Real Love

Today is my oldest child’s 26th birthday. Happy birthday, Carlene! It’s also the 26th anniversary of the first time I ever weighed more than 200 pounds. I hit that milestone in the hospital just before they hooked me up to the pitocin drip.

Ah….memories.

While I suspect I went over 300 pounds sometime in late 2004, I don’t have documented proof from the scale. In May 2004, I was 296 at my doctor’s office. February 1, 2005, I was 280. According to my medical record, the only one that kept track of my weight, I’d “technically” lost 16 pounds. But I’d steadily gained 2-3 pounds a month the year before, so the math (and the fact that size 28s were getting tight) would suggest I was probably 310 or so at my highest.

Looking back, I kind of wish I’d gotten on a scale in October or November 2004 and seen 300, but I remember how depressed I was seeing a 2 as my first number. I can’t imagine how I’d have reacted to a 3.

On the opposite side of the scale is my goal weight anniversary. Tomorrow I’ll celebrate 2 years of maintenance. It took me 2 years, 2 months and 12 days to go from 296+ to 138. Even though I kept losing the first year of maintenance, it wasn’t a conscious effort, and 138 will always be the weight at which I declared goal.

When I started losing weight the last time (and I do mean LAST…I’m never doing a gain and loss like that again, god willing), I thought if I could get to 190, I’d be happy. It was a familiar number, one at which I could bend over and not cut off my breath, I didn’t feel huge, and hundred other reasons. Then somewhere in the low 200s, I thought maybe 170 would be good. Then around 190, I thought 150 would be the bottom weight. Then I got to 150 and thought, no, I need to go a little lower. Goal was like a carnival game, “Down and down she goes! Where she’ll stop? No one knows!”

Some of you have read the following story. I included it in the foreword I wrote in my Refuse to Regain blogging partner Barbara Berkeley’s book, “Refuse to Regain: 12 Tough Rules to Maintain the Body You’ve Earned.” It’s a short retelling of the day I hit goal.

I made goal on a cloudy March day in 2007. I was at my doctor’s office for a routine checkup. I weighed 138 pounds. I said to my doctor, "So, do you suppose I’m done?" She said, "I think you can stop now." And that boring little exchange was how I became what Dr. Berkeley calls a POW – Previous Overweight Person. There was no fanfare, no confetti, no fireworks, no angels flying around the room singing "Hallelujah." Just me, my doctor and my medical file in which my doctor wrote, “Lost 158 pounds in two years, two months and 12 days.”

I walked out of the her office no longer a person losing weight but a person maintaining weight. I got in my car, sat there for a moment, then thought, “Now what?”

I’d been on countless diets in the past and the few times I made goal, I celebrated with food, essentially saying, “Finally! I can go eat again!” But this time was different. I was different. I didn’t want to celebrate with a Dairy Queen Oreo Blizzard and a corn dog. I wanted to figure out what to do next so I wouldn’t go back to the way things used to be, to gaining weight again. I wanted off that merry-go-round.

So many weights. So many anniversaries. But you know what? While I’m very glad to be a woman who’s lost 160-some pounds and who’s celebrating 2 years at goal, I’m especially proud to be the mother of a girl who reminds me every day that I am more than my weight. Because for 26 years and for every weight in between, I raised a beautiful, intelligent, kind and loving child who has become my dear friend. I can’t imagine life, at any weight, gets better than that.

Here are all my dining companions from today, the girls who make me the happiest: Carlene, pregnant Cassie, and g-baby Claire.

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Just A Little Monday Food Chat

OK, so our local Wal-Mart no longer carries Greek yogurt or garlic, but for whatever reason, there was broccoli rabe (or rapini) for sale next to the bok choy yesterday. I’d never seen broccoli rabe before. Heck, I’ve never even heard of it! And to find it at Clarion Wal-Mart, of all places, is as likely as finding Krispy Kreme’s at Whole Foods. Seeing as I’m always looking for new and interesting veggies, particularly of the green and leafy variety, I bought a bunch.

According to Gourmet Sleuth, “Broccoli rabe (pronounced broccoli rob) is also referred to as rabe or rapini. This is another leafy green vegetable that is frequently eaten in Southern Italy and has become popular in the United States. The vegetable has a slightly bitter taste and is frequently steamed or lightly sautéed in olive oil. “The Broccoli Rabe flower looks similar to the broccoli florets. Despite the name this plant is not a type of broccoli but it is in the same brassica family. One of the many health benefits of this vegetable is that it is rich in certain phytochemicals, including sulforaphane and indoles. These are chemicals which are proving to protect us against cancer.”

I did a quick search for online recipes and decided to wing it since most of the recipes called for sausage and pasta and all I wanted was some leafy green goodness.

I loosely chopped half the bunch of broccoli rabe and blanched it for about 2 minutes in a pan of boiling water. While it drained, I sautéed a couple cloves of fresh minced garlic in a half-teaspoon of olive oil, added a couple shakes of red pepper flakes and about a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar. Then I added the broccoli rabe, heated it through, and sprinkled a tablespoon of grated parmesan on top.

Broccoli rabe is strong and bitter, but combined with all the other flavors, it was really very tasty. I can see how it would go well with pasta, beans or rice. If any of you have tried it and have a recipe, please share.

I’m getting closer to perfecting homemade fat-free refried beans. I cooked up some dried pinto beans this morning, mashed them this afternoon and added a mishmash of spices, then baked it all up in a covered casserole. I just ate a spoonful and I think I’m pretty close to getting the spices just the way I want them. They’re going in a Tex-Mex casserole I’m making tonight, so we’ll see how they get along with the other ingredients.

Have any of you made refried beans with black beans? I think I want to try making them next time. If you have a recipe, I’d love to see it!

That’s all for today. Short and sweet (or bitter, considering the rabe). Hope your week is off to a good and healthy start. I leave you with a little joke my friend Pam sent me today. After these refried beans, this may be the way I weigh myself tomorrow!

Finally, the correct way to weigh yourself

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Making Peace With My “Big Bones”

From the time I was a teen, people have described me as “big-boned.” Didn’t matter my weight, I was always big-boned and I never questioned it. After all, people could see me better than I could see myself. Several relatives on both sides of my family were what I considered big-boned (i.e. “fat”), so I just figured it was in my genetic makeup to be big-boned, too.

I’ve been contemplating the whole big-boned issue since I saw a photo of my back last week. I had a small cyst removed in the middle of my back and I wanted to see what the stitches looked like. So I had Larry take a photo. (Yes, that’s some of my infamous skin hanging over my bra – lol. And the tattoo is the unfinished “gift” I gave myself when I turned 30…long story…involves beer…)

What I see in the photo is a wide, thin back. Hmmm… Wide AND thin? How could that be? I’m big boned, ergo, I’m fat….ah…fat…there’s the rub. Ouch.

It’s apparent that it’s time to reconsider the language I use to describe myself to myself.

Insurance companies like Metropolitan Life publish weight tables that are broken into three categories: small, medium and large frames. I always assumed I had a large frame. (Remember, I’m big boned.) I found a handy site called Ideal Body Weight Chart with instructions on how to determine frame size. Using both the wrist and elbow measurements, I have a small to almost medium frame.

Me? Small to medium? That description is so foreign, like someone calling my eyes brown when clearly they’re blue/green. I’d never think to describe myself as “small to medium.” I mean, I’m big boned! People said so when I was 14 and 25 and 40!

I realize now that this big-boned description was probably at the heart of what I call the “black-hole phase” when I hit 150 pounds almost three years ago. I believed what everyone said, that I was big boned and therefore a large frame. Therefore, my “ideal” weight, according to the charts, was between 137-155. Problem was, 150 didn’t feel ideal. I’d always settled for it as my ideal weight, my “magic” weight, but once there, it felt wrong. I knew I was still carrying more fat than was healthy for me and my joints, but I was afraid that maybe my big bones needed to be 150 and I was just being selfish or unrealistic.

It didn’t help that a lot of people told me not to lose any more, that my bones were starting to stick out. Was I looking freakish? I didn’t think so, but then, what did I know? I’d been letting other people tell me what to do in terms of my weight all my life. But this time I let my body decide where it was most comfortable and it seemed to like it around 128. Gee…right where it should be, according the the “ideal weight” chart for a small to medium frame.

I realize now that there’s a difference between being big boned and being broad. I have broad shoulders and a broad back. I’m down to bare bones and will never have a chest measurement less than 34 inches (when measured without the “girls”). I have long legs and wide hips, but I won’t call them big anymore. Yes, I’m bony, but that’s just the way I’m put together.

And I like my bones. One of the most fun parts about losing weight was seeing them emerge month after month, pound after pound. I was ecstatic when my collar bones started jutting through the fat somewhere around 200 pounds. Then came my wrist bones and hip bones, foot bones and cheek bones. Seeing them and feeling them on a daily basis is another one of those things that keep me in maintenance. I don’t ever want to cover my jaw line with a triple chin again.

So I’m eliminating the term “big-boned” from my self-descriptors. Instead, I’m a small to medium and broad. I’m a broad broad!

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Calling All Kitchen Gadget Addicts!

Note to self: Next time I chop a hot pepper, do NOT (and I can’t stress this enough), do NOT wipe my nose with the paper towel I used to wipe the pepper juice off the cutting board.

Today’s blog topic is kitchen gadgets.

“Hello, I’m Lynn and I’m a kitchen gadget addict.”

I collect them like dust bunnies. I have peelers, mincers, zesters, graters, choppers, spoons (wooden, plastic and metal), ladles, separators, blenders, knife sharpeners, cork screws (manual and electric), mixers, whisks, spatulas (rubber and metal), thermometers, and tongs. (I think blogger Beanie has the same addiction, given the kitchen tour she gave in a recent blog.) My sister is not helping matters. She just became a Pampered Chef representative. If my husband finds out, he’ll lock up my wallet like a chastity belt, so let’s just keep this between us, OK?

Yesterday I was reminded of an oft forgotten item that I consider a kitchen gadget: rubber gloves. I know they feel unnatural, they can’t give you the skin-on-food sensual pleasure, but seriously. Use them when cutting hot peppers. And don’t wipe your nose until you take them off. They are also handy when peeling beets because afterwards, you won’t look like you’re starring in a “Friday the 13th” movie.

While not a kitchen gadget per se, I use a lot of my gadgets after reading one of my favorite food blogs: Yummy Diet Food. From author Juliet’s info page: “I love food! I am also both weight and health conscious, and I don't like to eat foods full of unhealthy ingredients (especially the ones targeted at dieters these days). So, I created Yummy Diet Food for people like me who are looking for low calorie foods that are both healthy and delicious (meaning *no* artificial sweeteners, hydrogenated oils, high fructose corn syrup or sugar alcohols).” She had me at “I love food!”

Sign up to have Juliet’s postings sent right to your inbox! I’ve tried several of her recipes and have not been disappointed. I especially loved the Orange Julius-like Smoothie last week.

Back to kitchen gadgets. I’d like you to weigh in on two questions.

# 1: What’s your favorite gadget and why should I buy it? (Because you know I will.)

# 2: How the heck do you clean a hand grater without running it through a dishwasher? Because I don’t own one. And those dammmm graters eat up my sponges. Am I doomed to having dried out cheese yuck on my graters even after washing them?

Thanks, as always, for your advice and comments!

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Plums and Lattes and Nirvana

Pa and I just got home from the big city. The wagon’s unhitched, the provisions stashed in the pantry, and I’m settlin’ in with a glass of hooch. OK, so it’s chardonnay, but hooch is more fun to say. Hooch! Hooch!

I made two food discoveries today that I’m sure many of you will write and say, “You’re just figuring this stuff out NOW? Where have you been, girl!” Please be kind.

First, a confession. Until two years ago, I professed to hate plums, even though I’d never tried one. After all these years (26 to be exact) of mothering and goading my kids with the old “How do you know you don’t like it if you haven’t tried it?” routine, I was adamant that I hated plums. I know it’s because I had a negative association with plums, and you’ll laugh when you find out what it is. It’s stupid, really.

When I was a kid, my dad owned the grocery store in our little town. Next door was the hardware store, and the owner, Paulie, would come in, grab a plum from the produce case and toss me a dime. This happened every year and every damn day they were in season. He never let me weigh the plum to make sure he was paying us enough. He just grabbed a plum and threw me a dime. It really ticked me off. How inaccurate! What if it was 12 cents? 13 cents? I was sure he was ripping us off. Never mind that Paulie fitted me for the grooviest tennis shoes ever (Keds boys high tops) or sold me ammunition for my dad’s .22 and my 4-10 shotguns when I was 11 (you had to be 16) or that he gave me a deal on my very first bike (an aqua 5-speed that I saved all year to buy for $75). I was sure every plum cost more than a dime. Obviously that stick I’m known for was firmly planted up my ass at an early age.

Fast forward *ahem* 35 years…

I was at a farmer’s market a few summers ago and a woman was selling little yellow plums. Cutest things you’ve ever seen. While I looked at them, she said, “Try one!” I thought of Paulie and the dime and I could feel my nose crinkle and my head start to shake “no” and then I thought, “Let it go, you twit. That was soooo 35 years ago. Put the plum in your mouth!” And so I did.

It was love at first bite. The chewy tart skin and the sweet soft inside…I bought a pint and dashed to my car. I cleaned a few with the bottled water and Kleenex I had stashed in the glove box. I ate them and sighed in regret. I wasted so many years and deprived myself of so many plums! I made it my mission to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time.

Plums have turned into a quasi-addiction, although I’m quite sure you can’t be dangerously addicted to fruit. I especially love them cut up in Greek yogurt. This week I added 3 tablespoons of Grape-Nuts to the mix for an even more complex taste sensation. The texture is unreal.

Anyway, as I was saying, I made two food discoveries, one involving plums. It’s the pluot. Dappled on the outside, pink on the inside, it’s half plum, half apricot, but it takes more after the plum side of the family. I bought two of them at Whole Foods today. After loading the groceries in the car, I grabbed one and ate it in the car in the parking lot while the car warmed up. I reluctantly shared with Pa, who liked them, too, and I was tempted to go back and buy a bunch more, but then I remembered I’d also bought apples, bananas, grapefruit, tangerines and strawberries. A girl can only eat so much fruit in a week.

Our next stop was Trader Joe’s, but I got all the regulars there: Greek yogurt, stevia, baby bok choy, tea, almonds, flaxseed crackcrackers, Ak Mak crackcrackers, some bacon for the man of the house. My next food find was at our last stop: Starbucks.

After buying the puppies their favorite chews in bulk at PetSmart, Pa and I headed over to the ‘Bux for sustenance for the hour-long ride home. I was in the mood for something cold, even though the temperature never rose above freezing. I ordered an iced skinny cinnamon dolce latte, which I’d looked up online and saw was only 1.5 Points for a grande. After last week’s S’bux vanilla rooibos latte discovery, I doubted anything could equal its yumminess. I believed I’d hit latte nirvana.

As I prepared for disappointment, I plunked down my dollars, bought Pa a normal old coffee, then buckled myself into the car for the ride home.

Once on the highway, I took a sip. Oh. My. Goodness. Heaven. On. Ice.

If you love coffee, cinnamon, and brown sugar, but hate milk (as in cow’s milk) like I do, this cinnamon dolce thingy (dolce meaning, “In a gentle and sweet manner. Used chiefly as a direction.” Yeah, as in, “Get in my belly!”) is your ticket to palate paradise.

It enjoyed it for 30 miles and I sucked the straw for the remains of coffee goodness on the bottom just as we hit the intersection of routes 66 and 28.

I sat back in my seat and sighed. A pluot and a latte, both in one afternoon. Decadence at its finest.

Now I’m home and contemplating dinner. Might be butternut squash with the pasta sauce I made the other night. Might be a veggie burger. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got a food grin on my face no other food will wipe off for a long while.

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Thank You, Michelle Obama!

I’d like to thank the First Lady for encouraging me to go for three sets on the strength training today. After the first two, I whined, “Ugh, I’m tired, I want to stop.” Then I remembered the picture of Michelle Obama in that rockin’ pink dress on the cover of People magazine last week. Do you see those arms? Um…yeah…I want me some of those. Or at least something close.

Michelle Obama works out 90 minutes three days a week with a personal trainer. CNN ran a story about it recently with some added tips on how to start a strength training routine. One part that struck me as catty was this: “When Obama emerged with uncovered arms on Tuesday, some grumbled about her showing too much skin on an occasion where other women were wearing long sleeves or suits. Boston Herald columnist Lauren Beckham Falcone wrote to Obama, ‘It's February. Going sleeveless in subzero temperature is just showing off. All due respect.’”

She’s just jealous. If I could do sleeveless like Michelle Obama, heck yeah I’d be doing it in subzero temps!

I know many of you reading already have a strength-training regimen. I also know some of you reading are concerned you’ll bulk up. Three words: It. Can’t. Happen. Not unless you start injecting A-Rod drugs in your bum, you will not bulk up like a body builder. I work my upper body five days a week. I do 3 sets/15 reps of four rehab exercises five days a week (wall push-ups and rotator cuff, biceps and lat work with a Theraband), and in addition, I do 30 minutes of upper body work twice a week. You’ve seen my photo. I’m no body builder, but my muscles are toned. Not Obama toned, but then, that’s my new goal, right?

And as if having toned arms isn’t enough, strength training builds lean muscle mass and bone density (click here to read what the Mayo Clinic says about strength training). Because I haven’t had a period in two years and my blood tests all come back normal (I’m not in perimenopause), my doctor sent me in for a bone density test to make sure I wasn’t wasting away inside. After the test, the technician told me I had the bones of a 30-year-old! 45-year-old, creaky-joint, gray-haired me has the bones of a 30-year-old! (Now if I could just get that skin elasticity back…) She asked me if I lifted weights and I told her I did. She said that was it and to keep it up. And so I do.

I’ve written about this before, but I’m still amazed at what ST did for me while I was losing weight. I’d started walking for exercise in April 2006. My measurements were 44-38-49 and I weighed 187. In September, five months later and just before joining the gym, they were 41-36.5-45.5 and I weighed 164. Two months later, after adding strength training to my routine and upping my cardio routine by implementing the elliptical and bike, and by walking at higher inclines on the treadmill, my measurements were 39-33.5-42.5 and I weighed 152.7. While the scale moved at a respectable rate, what really improved were my measurements. Eight inches gone in two months!

I don’t use weight machines anymore. I prefer dumbbells and a barbell and my own body weight (Pilates and yoga), but whatever you choose to use, use it! Work your arms, your back, your core, your legs. Cardio isn’t enough. In fact, I’ve cut back my cardio routine to 2-3 hours a week and ramped up the ST to 3 hours a week and I’m maintaining my weight just fine. I was worried at first since I’d been such a slave to cardio, but taking that leap of faith rewarded me with much stronger, leaner muscles than I could ever achieve sweating on an elliptical for six hours a week.

As always, I recommend the books “Body For Life for Women” by Pamela Peeke, “The Body Sculpting Bible for Women” by James Villepigue, Hugo Rivera, Nicole Rollolazo, and Robert Kennedy, and “Strength Training For Women” by Joan Pagano. Also, a big shout out to MizFit who also has the rockin’ arms (and rockin’ everything else) and offers a lot of simple, everyday ways to fit ST into your day.

So…thank you again Mrs. Obama for inspiring me and being a role model for women’s strength training. I hope you ignore those green-eyed naysayers and keep on keepin’ on with those sleeveless dresses.

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