I have a love affair that I need to admit. Admission is the first step in all 12 step
programs to a better you, right? Well,
here goes: I love red meat. I especially
love it medium rare, more on the rare side.
Preferably, a bone-in rib eye or a broiled picanya cut with sea salt on
the crispy outside and a side of mushrooms.
My brain swoons with visions of the juicy beef and my mouth waters as I
write this.
So, what the hell am I doing contemplating becoming a
vegan? I’m definitely not a
tree-hugging, Birkenstock wearing (yuck!) hippie who has a problem devouring
anything that had a parent or eyes. (Although
I did have a very pleasant commune experience, but it definitely involved
meat. More on that another day.) I have always
been a staunch advocate for the high animal protein way of life – Adkins, South
Beach, Paleo – all were made for me! Yippee!
Yet, here I sit at 47 years old and 2?? pounds (I’m not okay
seeing that number yet in print. Hell,
the 47 almost put me over the edge!) an obvious failure at the carnivore way to
optimum health. I have tried all manner
of diets -- of course all containing copious amounts of animal products-- diet
pills, shots, hormones, and have over time probably lost enough weight to equal
another one of me. But I can never
manage to keep the weight off for very long.
Something always seems to happen to derail me. (Note the lack of true personal
responsibility in that statement.) I do
admit, however, that I am lazy. I hate
to sweat. I especially hate organized
exercise activities where I sweat next to other fat people, particularly if
they too are sweating. Gross!
“Exercise at home,” you say.
The treadmill in my house is used mostly by my dog and my dad, seldom by
my kids, rarely by my husband. There is
also a rowing machine, weight machine, bands, videos, an “Ab-lounger”, big
exercise ball, hand weights and a whole hell of a lot of good intentions. In its defense, the Ab-lounger is quite good
at getting that good stretch when you need it, and holding folded laundry.
Of course, I have friends that have been able to find and flip
that magic switch in their brains to make them love working out and change
their eating habits, not just “diet”.
They have made it a way of life and have lots tons of weight. I have come to the conclusion that I do not
possess that switch. It was not in my
blue print. Kind of like ordering lasagna
at the Chinese restaurant – it is simply not on the menu.
Enter my newly vegan friend.
I saw her about 6 months ago and she had lost some serious weight. She had always been chubby, like me. I saw her slimmer and she gushed about this
new lifestyle she and her husband had embraced after watching a documentary
called “Forks over Knives”. She made it
clear it was a weight/health issue and she had not suddenly started hugging
trees or wearing hemp suits to court. I
congratulated her and wished her every success but secretly I thought it wouldn't
last. She’s Cuban; so is her
husband. It is not in the Cuban genetic
make up to be a vegetarian. I once told
my grandmother that I wanted to make a vegetarian lasagna (note: vegetarian,
not vegan. I was putting 4 kinds of
cheese all over that thing!) and she proceeded to take out some ham for the
sauce because it’s “not beef” so its okay and you “can’t make sauce without any
meat”.
Anyway, fast forward to last week. I saw my friend again and she looked
FABULOUS! Not just thinner, although she
definitely is. Not just lighter and with
well-fitting clothes, which she had. She
glowed. No, really, she did. Her skin looked clear and beautiful. She is my age. She confirmed that she had not had gastric bypass
or any surgery. I already knew that just
by looking at her. Generally, gastric
bypass does no favors to the skin of women my age. In our 40’s, losing tons of weight quickly is
horrible for our skin and who wants to lose weight if it is going to give you a
grey, saggy, wrinkly face? I might be
chunky, but I don’t look 80. Her skin
was 10 years younger and even clearer than ever. And her greatest testament: She had not exercised one iota. Damn, I’m sold.
The adventure begins….