* Pebbles & Sunshine *

Normally I don’t like to post my plans before they come through for me. Call it self-defense. That way, if my lazy rear never leaves our cushy carpet, I can just look the other way and pretend nothing ever happened. Hum-dee-dum-dee-dee …

But this time, I’m really excited, because I think I’ve found something to motivate me to get active. Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy my sedentary lifestyle! I know, you’re thinking, “Well, just get up and DO something, for heaven’s sake!” That’s what I’m thinking too. But I’m picky. See I know just enough economics to be dangerous to myself. I’m thinking something along these lines: “Well, sitting here gives me so many units of net happiness. The benefit is low, but so is the cost. If I get up to exercise, I have to risk fatigue, injury, pain, confusion, and monotony. That’s a lot of costs. What exercise gives me enough benefit to outweigh these costs? What exercise is actually FUN?” Unfortunately, none so far. So I keep sitting.

Well, hopefully that’s about to change. For several weeks now, I’ve been racking my brain for fun ways to exercise. I wanted exercise to feel like playing. There’s always team sports, and I may get into some of that. The major down side is that I’m famously uncoordinated; I was always the last one picked in grade school, usually accompanied by a round of suppressed groans. Perhaps adults will be more mature, but I’ve yet to see a human being who doesn’t get competitive when the game begins. I also thought of hiking and other wilderness excursions, and I’m looking forward to exploring that option. But they require a level of stamina that I fear I don’t yet have, and they also take some level of planning, if only to drive the hour or so to a national park where there are trails. The same line of reasoning applies to dancing classes. I wanted at least a few options that I could do at home and that are easily picked up and put down.

My thoughts started wandering to the playground, where we all spent so many happy hours romping around as children. I thought of jump-roping (with my favorite childhood jump rope rhymes!). It was a big turn in the right direction: cheap, accessible, and challenging enough to hold interest. I kept thinking along that vein. That’s where my brain was yesterday walking through Barnes and Noble, when a book leaped off the shelf at me. I was astonished. I had thought of this activity … sort of. But I had no clue how much you could do with it. “Alright,” you say, “cut the suspense. What is it?” It’s called hoop dancing, and it uses a hula hoop!

Yup, that’s right. A hula hoop. That plaything my father helped me master when I was five or six. I had trouble with it at first, and in classic “don’t quit, try again” fashion, my father took me out to practice for a few minutes every day before the school bus arrived. In a few weeks, I was swirling that thing like a pro. I don’t remember when I put away my hula hoop or why, but when I facetiously bought one many years and inches of tummy fat later, I couldn’t keep it on my hips to save my life. I was so crestfallen. :( I’ve since found out that part of the problem is the hoop. The plastic playthings you find at Wally World are designed for children. They’re extremely hard for adults to master. But I’m sure a good part of it is also my middle. I can’t wait to recoup that skill I’d triumphantly laid claim to almost two decades ago!

But hula hooping isn’t all there is to hoop dance. There are all sorts of tricks you can learn with the hoop. You can twirl it around every limb of your body and exercise every muscle with your fluid movements. Plus, it can become a beautiful form of dance. Check out this YouTube video I found:

Isn’t it amazing? I’m going to learn to do that! (It might take me a while. :D)

Finally and best of all, hooping is famously fun. People have so much fun that they WANT to do it again. That’s exactly what I’m looking for in an exercise. I don’t want to have to force myself down to the gym day after day, where I spend hours running on a hampster wheel and emerge exhausted and braindead. That sounds like the most unnatural way to exercise. Can you imagine what our Paleolithic ancestors would have thought if they loped into one of our fitness gyms? I’m sure they’d think we’d gone mad.

So as soon as we get settled, I’m going to order the book and a hoop and see where I get. I can’t wait to get started playing again! It’s been too long.

And now that I’ve told you all about it, you can hold me accountable. Do it! Watch me squirm! I’m counting on you! :D

It’s been a while, sorry about that! But I have good news to report. First, I FINALLY bought a scale. :) Second, I’m down to 135 pounds! That’s 20 pounds lost from my heaviest! Woohoo!

The bad news is that I’ve been sitting on 135 since the beginning of June. After my miscarriage, I lost almost 10 pounds in about a month, so I had my hopes all up that my metabolism was finally kicking into high gear, and now this. Oh well. For a few weeks, I was absolutely obsessed with the thought of making that needle drop a little more. I would examine myself in the mirror every day and collapse in despair when things didn’t change.

Oddly enough, this time it was reading about other people’s weight loss efforts that helped me come back down to earth. I say this is odd because usually, it seems like everyone else managed to shed their fifty pounds in a paltry four months, with smug “after” pictures that feature slender curves and toned stomachs. I’ve been at it religiously for 6 months, and I’ve lost only 20 pounds and less than 3 inches of belly fat! So it’s usually a downer, to say the least. This time, it was different. I ran across several people whose weight loss efforts spanned several years and suffered many long stalls. Admitedly, it’s comparing apples and oranges: Most of these people were middle aged and had hundreds of pounds to lose. But to know that many other people had to tough it out over a long period of time, that it wasn’t instant gratification, really helped.

My feet are more or less planted on the ground now. I don’t weigh myself every day anymore; in fact, I’m taking one man’s advice and weighing myself every MONTH! Sounds like a long time, but I’m losing pretty slowly now. This way, I can be pleasantly surprised by the numbers and enjoy my life in between, without obsessing about my weight. Some days I still fly off the handle over my flabby arms, but usually I try hard to appreciate my figure, which is truly much better than it was! Especially after reading DietGirl (great book and great blog, by the way!), I’ve realized that most of weight loss is learning to love yourself.

I also keep reminding myself of a few things. First, my fat took a long time to gain. Ten years in fact. Most websites will tell you that it takes longer to lose fat than to gain it. So in that light, I’m doing ridiculously well! Second, I’m recovering from years of mysteriously fragile health. No one was ever able to figure out what was wrong with my body, but it’s clear that it has a lot of latent issues to resolve. So if it takes a little longer to get to the flab, well I’ll just assume it’s working on something more important. Third and lastly, I’m not exercising. I know; I can just hear the round of boos coming from the fitness world. So sue me. I’ve been sitting on my bottom, eating steak, feeling loads better, and losing weight! :D Now in all seriousness, I would rather be fit. But I’m going easy on myself. I’ve been an inch from bedridden for most of the last decade, and it’s neither realistic nor productive to expect me to start jogging cold turkey. There is a time to reap and a time to sow; a time to rest and a time to get up and move! Now, after six months of serious recuperation, I think it’s time to start moving! Which brings me to my next post …

I’m so very excited! We’ll be living just south of Albuquerque, in a house that belongs to Spencer’s aunt. He’ll telecommute and every other week, we’ll come back out to LA for a few days. How could life look better?? :)

In all seriousness, we feel so very blessed. Spencer telecommuting from home is a dream arrangement we’ve been hoping for since we were married. To be offered this opportunity seems almost surreal.

As for New Mexico, that was our choice. Spencer grew up there and has wanted to move back for years. As for me, well I’m absolutely smitten with it now, but it did take me a while to get there. At first, I found the state brown, scruffy, and poor. It also didn’t help that my first two visits were during unusual or unflattering weather: the first was a record-breaking humidity spell, and the second a very gray week mid-winter. The third time turned out to be the charm. Last week, we arrived to brilliant sunshine, cotton clouds, and the southwest’s signature crisp air. It didn’t take me long to decide that this was home.

And we’ll soon see if I was right! Moving Day is next Saturday, the 27th. Meanwhile, it’s pack pack pack!

Since my miscarriage, I have given parenthood quite a bit of thought, and I have something to admit: I am not good with children; and actually, I don’t like them much. I had the devil’s time in grade school, and both there and elsewhere, I have learned that children are some of the cruelest creatures nature has ever turned out. Adults are infinitely more pleasant. Now I don’t know many people who will admit to disliking children; so I hopped online to investigate and stumbled across a most curious and modern phenomenon: the childfree movement.

This is a group of people, many married, who remain childless by choice — and are very adamant about it no less. The decision does not surprise me, but their attitude does: I get a lot of bitterness, defensiveness, and an almost vicious anger. They seem right on the verge of lashing out. For example, many demand to know why stroller-and-toddler laden moms expect other pedestrians to yield the right-of-way; after all, their child-ful state was self-inflicted and deserves no compassion. Alas, the extreme defensiveness of the childfree group rather undermines their loud claims of happiness, security in their choice, etc. Now in their defense, they describe being showered with insulting remarks, everything from “that’s so abnormal” to “you know you’ll regret this later.” I can’t imagine it’s pleasant being told how stupid you are day in and day out.

I have to stop a moment and laugh. Why? Because for years now, the conservative right has donned long faces to discuss a very serious matter: the declining birthrate in the developed world. If we don’t crank out more children, the uncultured savages are going to sweep our country right out from under our feet. On the other hand, here are these militant childfree couples lamenting how “kid-centric” our culture is. Armed with grim predictions of overpopulation, they frantically implore people to reconsider their selfish desire to pass on their genes. Both groups are intelligent, educated, well-meaning people, and both are passionately convinced they are right.

I should mention that, actually, the two observations are not contradictory. We indeed have rather small families these days (many European countries are way below replacement rate). But even as we have fewer children, we become more obsessed with lavishing them with luxuries, the likes of which were unheard of a century ago. Now, every child must have a cell phone, music lessons, dance classes, and a parade of other extravagances; fail on one account and you are judged an abusive, neglectful parent. No wonder people can only handle one or two kids.

This also tells me something about how conformist our society still is. I know of many large families (6 or 7 children) who get rude remarks from complete strangers when out in public. Clearly, childfree couples get the same. Both have become aggressively defensive about their choice, no doubt from being ostracized so heavily. Sadly, I have observed that their chosen defense to close-mindedness is to be heavily close-minded themselves, attacking the other side without seeking to understand them. Listening to the extremely conservative, I had come to believe that childlessness was celebrated by society. Quite the contrary. The claims of the other side are equally false.

So where does that leave us? As a society, I’m not quite sure. On the one hand, it is true that birth control is extremely new and, in my humble opinion, not quite natural. In the wild, if you wanted to enjoy sex, then you had to enjoy parenthood; that was the bargain and there was no way around it. We consequently gave birth to a lot more children. On the other hand, as medicine advances, more children survive than before. In the old days, it was not uncommon to lose half of your children before their teens. Nowadays, the death of a child has become a rarely experienced grief. Even evolution doesn’t settle the debate anymore: Obviously, evolution will favor those who reproduce. However, popping out a bunch of progeny isn’t of any help unless you are able to sustain them. Also, there are a new crop of evolutionary biologists such as David Barash who argue that, far from being abnormal, the decision to remain childfree is an exercise of humanity’s greatest claim to significance: free will.

Ultimately, I think it’s a very personal choice. There are very good arguments for both sides. The only thing that truly angers me is the people who try to guilt others into adopting their position. The world won’t cave in if you have no children, two children, or ten. Probably the worst is the “for the common good” doom-gloom-and-overpopulation crowd. People have been Chicken Little-ing for centuries. Take Thomas Malthus who predicted 250 years ago that we’d all be dead by now. Clearly, he was very very wrong. When spurred by necessity, human genius is a very powerful thing.

So after all this, you might be curious to know where I stand. I shan’t disappoint. I definitely want children, and a good many of them. (How many? Well, I figure “somewhere between 2 and 20″ should keep my options open.) I feel my maternal instinct very strongly, and even though I’m not ready yet, I will be one day, perhaps soon. Also, fifty years of childless selfish gratification seems awfully dull. Don’t get me wrong: I’m very much enjoying pampering myself right now. But I won’t for long.

As for my not liking children, my husband (who loves them) only smiles. He thinks that after I learn to handle kids, the fondness will follow. It’s easier said than done though. Children are impetuous, instinctive, and very unreasonable. They’re really more animal than human being; like a dog, they can’t be taken too seriously or given too much leeway. I find the little creatures savage-like indeed. But the reward for taming them — unconditional sweetness, adoration, and love — is very worth it. So I’m going to try. Wish me luck!