Adult Milestone: Caring for an Ailing Parent.

This is not a place from which I ever wanted to write. At least not for the next 15 to 20 years. But here I am, in the hospital, the primary "adult" responsible for my mother's care and keeping for the foreseeable future.

The role reversal is weird. I keep the family informed, she focuses on being healed. Doctors talk to me, she quietly receives treatment. Meanwhile, she fights to establish that she is, in fact, "the adult here." Whatever you say.

I don't yet know what's going on, or how long our lives will be on hold here in medical limbo.
But I do know that I'm not old enough for this shit.

Working it out.

Last night, for the first time in forever, I got my daily dose of cardio...indoors. Typically, I'm a walker; this, combined with working in a highly physical environment means that I almost never see the need to hit up the gym. But there's one in the building so I cleaned and strapped on my trusty gym shoes. And got in some elliptical action.

I'm not going to lie, working out at night was a little weird, and I'm not sure how to feel about pounding the low-impact pavement after eating a full meal. But I did my cardio and worked on my shoulders and arms and then went to bed, fully intending to get up and try a morning work out.

That didn't exactly happen. My shoulders were sore and I had a bunch of cleaning to do. So, taking a page from NPR, I decided to turn my cleaning into a workout. The story "Hotel Maids Challenge the Placebo Effect" tells the tale of two groups of maids -- one who was informed of their caloric output on any given shift, and one who wasn't. Surprisingly to researchers, the group that was told of their physical activity actually lost weight, had a drop in blood pressure, BMI and waist-to-hip ratio.

With that in mind, I hit the cleaning like I hit the elliptical last night. While not as taxing, I definitely felt like I was getting more exercise than I would just cleaning mindlessly. But all cleaning aside (still have laundry and a bathroom to do), I also set up my beautification station for all the pre-wedding prep you could ever want.That's right, Walgreen's sells 5-blade disposable razors - perfect for getting yourself swimsuit ready. Which is absolutely terrifying. Let me tell you: I prefer to keep it au natural downstairs (one part laziness, one part pathological fear of ingrowns, infection and hot dripping wax), but when you're headed out to be surrounded by a bunch of judgey people in swimsuits, its best to make some effort to keep up appearances. And if you're going to do it, you may as well practice a little blade overkill.

Anyways, so I'm currently in the process of beautifying my (terrifying) feet. This entails sanding them down with that there belt sander on a pink handle (oh so feminine), soaking them in a tub full of hot water and Old Spice body wash (because my brother is the man your man could smell like), slathering on that foot creme (guaranteed to hydrate your feet to a room temperature melting point), and putting on socks. The socks have been on for a few hours now...but they're going to have to come off when I bathe.

Yes, Ma, I already "fixed" my eyebrows, don't worry.

I will then paint my little tootsies a tasteful, yet sufficiently young, bronze-y neutral. I haven't yet decided if I'm going to actually paint my nails, or if I'd rather just use that fancy nail rubix cube to burnish them to a classy shine.

Either way, I'll keep you posted.

On smoking, food, and "getting fat".

Yesterday, Jezebel ran a post called "French Women Smoke to Remain Thin at All Costs." It, as the title would suggest, examines the relationship between the rate of young(er) women in France smoking cigarettes and their desire to remain desirably thin. Looking to unpack the social pressures placed on women to be thin, it calls for less judgment on body size/perceived "fatness" in hopes that women will feel more comfortable with their bodies and, in turn, quit smoking.

It was a decent article.

And of course, the comments derailed the goodness of the article.* One, in particular, stuck out at me. User lizae writes:

Invite a friend to comment

So I guess if I spend next spring in Paris I need to add "I'd rather be fat than have cancer" to my French phrase repertoire.

But would you, really? If you would, than kudos to you, miss. For some of us, it's a little more complicated than that. For what it's worth, I didn't start smoking to lose weight or stay at a particular weight, or anything even remotely like that. I started because everyone in Korea smokes, and that was just the way it was. (PSA: Kids! Don't befriend Eastern Europeans, you'll learn how to hold your liquor and blow smoke rings!)

But now that I'm a smoker? Well, quitting is going to take some serious planning and consideration, and you can bet your ass that weight gain factors into it. Earlier this year, I put on 22 pounds due to a change in medication. Only recently, have I started getting it to come off. The idea that quitting smoking - regardless of increased exercise - could cause me to gain some (or all) of it back is terrifying.

But let's talk about the underlying causes for a minute, shall we? I am lucky to be a relationship where there is no pressure for me to be skinny. He's loved me when I was a little on the chunkier side, and he's loved me when I wound up a little unfortunately emaciated. (Here's another tip, if you are even remotely competitive/inclined to food-related neuroses, do not under any circumstances, make work-out buddies with someone who has been diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder.)

But that's part of the problem. He and I, and a group of our friends love to eat together. Cooking en masse, we can eat a huge dinner (allegedly with leftovers) for three bucks a person. But there are never leftovers and these people act like vegetables are some strange biproduct corn-fed beef. (Well...we could debate that.) So it's hard to work on my own weight/image issues and still keep up my typical social eating schedule.

So I had a melt-down: My clothes don't fit! I have no money to buy new clothes! My stomach conditions require a diet with fiber! And I'm supposed to watch my sugar intake! I can't hang out with you people if you're only going to feed me transfats and refined carbohydrates!

It was epic, and I did it at 6:30 in the morning before work.

A little melodramatic? Absolutely...but I think the message got across. We've started incorporating vegetables (cheap vegetables, but vegetables nonetheless) into the repertoire. We play frisbee while the grill heats up, or walk to the pool hall instead of driving. There are talks about going to the batting cages. And, as it turns out, I wasn't the only one uncomfortable with what we've been eating.

To get back to my original point, I'm working on my weight through diet and exercise and I'll quit when I'm ready.

...Whenever that is.

*I love Jezebel, and I think it really is a great, judgment-free community. Unless of course, they're talking about a subject that it's "okay" to judge: like smokers, parents with large strollers and Taylor Swift.

Game Plan

When contemplating the beginning of the end of the beginning of my life, it becomes more and more clear that some intense goal setting is in order. These goals are more than just idealistic motivators -- they serve as a way to keep me accountable (at a time where "senioritis" is the norm).

As of right now, I have several long-term, thematic goals that I would like to accomplish this year:

-Complete a senior honors thesis in Political Science, so that I can graduate with honors.
-Establish and maintain a healthy lifestyle, complete with balanced diet and regular intentional exercise.
-Regain control of my finances/budgeting, in the hopes of graduating with at least $1,000 in my savings account.
-Maintain relationship with my significant other of more than three years, or know when the relationship should no longer be maintained.
-Find full-time employment for my post-graduate life.

So that's the heavy.
Later on, we'll get back to the funny.

[ETA]: Perhaps I should include "Quit Nicotine, Caffeine and Alcohol" as a goal...but what fun is that?