Last Friday Dr. Bob and I had a really good talk: Part II.

Dr. Bob did the unthinkable. 

He told me the great secret--how we as Americans will finally lose weight.

It boils down to this...

Food has to become harder to get.

I don't really understand this. Yet. But this is what I do understand. We tend to consume more calories on impulse food choices. And the world we live in conditions us to give in to those impulse food choices. Starbucks on every corner. McDonalds next door. Candy in the check out lane. 

Think about this. If you got the sudden craving for a big honkin' hamburger in the 1950's, how easy would it have been to obtain? How much easer would it be to satisfy this craving today? Food is easy to come by. Too easy. 

So the question then becomes...how do we make food a bit harder to come by? Well...we cook more meals!!

Yes, the great cooking (or rather learning to cook) extravaganza continues. And I must say I'm falling in love with it. My first two endeavors (avocado and lime soup and then curried potatoes) were not especially good, but I did enjoy making them--and I filled up faster. 

My new sidebar "wearing the suit" has to do with something Dr. Bob once said. He told me that the actresses he knows who manage the weight issue best are those that recognize that it's just part of the job. It's like wearing a suit to work--it really is just one component of the job, albeit a necessary one. Right/wrong--it doesn't have to be such an emotional issue. The pictures are the visual to show what 1,800 to 2,000 calories really looks like (I read somewhere that taking pictures of what you eat can be more effective than just writing it down). So right now this will be my little sidebar for the most important job I can think of right now--reclaiming my life, finding happiness.

The brook would lose its song if we removed the rocks. 

Wallace Stegner

Thank God for the rocks and a very happy cooking extravaganza to you!

PS: next time I cook I might just have to try these.

I am the Walrus.

Today I took Liam and Bells (my two babysitting charges) to the Natural History Museum.

At one point with my best fish face, I turned to Liam and between fish bubble noises I asked, "What am I Liam? Am I fish?"

He said, "No silly, you're a woman."

There it was. Life's great truth. Delivered by a three year-old.

Last Friday Dr. Bob and I had a really good talk: Part I.

The first time I met Dr. Bob he said, "there is no such thing as a bad food." Now we've all heard this before. It's Eating Well 101. But he explained it by saying, "when the body is starving a twinkie might just be the thing to save your life."

Well on Friday we leveled. 

I said, "I want to lose weight." 

He smiled and said, "I know." 

I said, "Help me. How do I do it?" 

And he smiled again and said, "You have to eat at least 1,800 calories a day. Eating 1,800 calories creates a deficit of 200 calories a day and that along with exercise will allow you to lose weight."

"Okay," I said slowly, eyeing him carefully. "How long will it take me to lose ten pounds?"

He did the math in his head, "About three months." 

Ah, three months. Long sigh. So long. Wait a second, silly (the italicized words represent the sane part of me) three months is nothing in the grand scheme of things. And you've been trying to lose weight for years with no success. This guy is actually telling you to eat more. More food! How exciting!

Eat more. 

Dr. Bob explained that (and I think this is what he was saying, but don't quote me or him via me on it) eating less than 1,800 calories changes how the brain defines pleasure when it comes to food. Example: sweet food becomes more pleasurable. The body adapts to starvation by becoming increasingly sensitive to rewarding foods like sweets and butters. The body literally prioritizes food by calories. Foods that are "bad" for you become more pleasurable not necessarily because they are off limits, but because you get a large calorie count for not a lot of consumption. 

So I'm going to try. To eat more. Turns out 1,800 calories is a fair amount. And I'm going to enjoy every single one of them, allowing myself indulgences as well as the pleasure of fruits and veggies (homemade guacamole--oh my!). 

I know it seems scary. And I know the question becomes, how can I lose weight when I'm actually taking in more food? Well, by taking in more food (but not too much) you increase your metabolism and allow your body to become more efficient with calories, so that even if you slip up and eat that whole chocolate cake, the body says, no worries--I don't need these calories, I'll just get rid of them. Because not every calorie carries an equal weight. And when you're not starving yourself then your body doesn't feel the need to hoard calories. The body becomes more forgiving. So while it may seem counterintuitive: eating more can help you lose weight. But more importantly it will get you to the weight where your body wants to live.

Part II of my conversation with Dr. Bob has to do with cooking. That will come tomorrow. For some reason I've been putting off writing this post. I'm not sure why that is, but I'm gonna end it here for now in an effort to not push my luck. Part II to come...tomorrow (as well as an explanation of my new sidebar feature).

Today the Nor'easter hit with a vengeance.

And since I had the day off, I decided what better time to tackle my spring cleaning? 

After all, my mom's been asking when I was going to post the after picture from this post.

Well Mom, here it is...

though I don't think the after photo really does the room justice. I mean...it looks impeccable now.

The thing about NYC apartments is you have to move fast. Not much time to mull over the details. Once it's on the market, it doesn't remain there for long (maybe a bit longer in today's economy, but even still). Lightning speed is a must. This creates the following condition: you never know what the problem with the apartment will be until you've lived there for a little while. Apartment #1: nesting pigeons in the void where an air-conditioning could've gone. This led to maggots. And me cursing the fact that I didn't have a boyfriend I could call up at 3 am to come help me kill them. Apartment #2: street noise and dust: so much dust, so--so much noise. And now apartment #3: I don't mind that the dishwasher is always off kilter or that I have to hit the microwave's side each time to get it going. I don't even mind the passionate fights that the landlords have directly above my room or that they move furniture around in the early morning hours. I don't mind that I don't have a closet--though a closet would be nice. The problem with this apartment comes down to the following: I have to clean every five minutes. I think it's due to the lack of storage space. But I am always cleaning my room. One thing out of place and the whole thing is shot to hell. So I'm hoping this go round I'll maintain the spring cleaning state of being. For longer than five minutes.

And the below is my blogging area. Well, I should say I blog here at the desk and in bed. That's the beauty of a laptop. It's movable! Who knew? I saw on someone's blog (and now I can't remember, ugh--so if it was you, speak up) that they were tagged to show off the area in which they blogged. And if you were reading the post, you too were essentially tagged--thus the reason for me showing off my own space. So if you're reading this, now you're tagged. I wanna see where you make the magic happen people.

I'm desperate to live in Rome.

Just for a little while anyway.

I'd wake up early every morning. With the sun. Or maybe even before it. I'd sip coffee at the cafe around the corner. And I'd go to church every day. Be the good Catholic I've always known I could be. I'd study the architecture. And listen to opera. I'd eat gelato every afternoon. And pasta every evening. I'd never eat alone. Or with anyone I knew. Always strangers. I'd eat cookies all throughout the day. And drink wine. So much wine. Red, not white. I'd parade around the streets in sandals and barely-there-skirts. I'd chop all my hair off in the style of the latest Italian movie star. And play futbol in the streets with the young boys before their mothers called them home for dinner. The people of my piazza would soon recognize the cadence of my gait or the peel of my fire-engine-red vespa. And I'd write. All day long, I'd write. I'd kiss the Italian air with my words. And then I'd be loved. By my perfect Italian lover.

Please, oh please, won't someone give me a reason to go to Rome?

PS: we all know when it comes to travel guides it doesn't get better than Rick Steves...but man, oh man, can he write...this is his delightful, little article on my much dreamed of city