Category Archives: health

How I Quit Smoking

I started smoking when I was 15. I was always one of those kids who wanted to grow up fast, and smoking made me feel grown up. I hung around with my trouble-making, pot-smoking friends, sitting in front of the Taco Bell after school smoking and being total idiots. Back then, cigarettes were still relatively inexpensive. I remember buying a pack of generics for $2, and for an extra twenty-five cents we could get Marlboros. They hadn’t yet put high taxes in place and a lot of gas stations and liquor stores would still sell cigarettes to underage kids, so it wasn’t that hard to get them.

My mother HATED that I smoked, which, frankly, was probably reason enough for me to keep doing it at that point. I was such a little asshole.

I smoked all through high school, and I remember getting to college and being so stoked that I could finally buy cartons of cigarettes. I started smoking a lot my first year in college. Like, up-to-two-packs-a-day a lot. That eventually evened out, but from the time I was 18 until I was about 27 or 28, I was smoking at least half a pack a day, and more if I went out drinking or partying. Which, let’s be honest, I did a lot. I loved smoking. It felt glamorous, it felt cool, it made me feel a little edgy.

I know there were times in that period when I thought about quitting, but I never really wanted to. I knew I should. I knew it was a gross habit. My mom still hated it. But it was just too daunting to try to quit all at once.

It probably took me about five or six years to quit smoking. I did it bit by bit, breaking connections and habits one by one. First, I stopped smoking a cigarette with my morning coffee. It was a fairly simple thing, just cutting that one cigarette out a day. Then I stopped smoking at work. I don’t really remember why I stopped smoking at work, and yes, I would very occasionally still go out on the street and have a cigarette if I was having a stressful day, but for the most part, by the time I was 27 I didn’t usually smoke my first cigarette of the day until 5 in the evening at the earliest.

Eventually, by the time I turned 30, I really only smoked when I went out drinking. Which, ok, honestly was still kind of often. At least a few times a week. And then I tended to smoke A LOT. But when I turned 30 I moved across the country by myself to a small town where I didn’t really know anyone, and I stopped going out so much.

By the time I was 32, I was only smoking once every two weeks or so. I had, over time, broken all the daily habits of being a regular smoker. It took me another year to finally decide to quit altogether, and by the time that happened, it wasn’t that hard at all. It was just about breaking that one, final connection, between drinking and smoking, which was actually a connection between socializing and smoking. And when I did quit, it happened really organically. I didn’t set a date or have a plan. I just decided I was done.

I don’t think my Phase-Out approach is a very typical way to quit, but it worked for me, and I think it’s a pretty good technique. Because instead of trying to break a really big habit, one that might have lots of connections in your life, you can focus on breaking one smaller habit at a time, until eventually, all the emotional and physical connections to smoking are gone. If you’ve tried to quit smoking without success in the past, maybe a more gradual approach would work for you. Try to identify the times that you smoke, and connections you have: Do you love to have a cigarette with your coffee, or after dinner? Do you smoke when you talk to your sister on the phone? Do you have to have one on your drive home from work? If you can identify some specific times or places or situations that are connected to smoking for you, you can start to break those connections one by one. That way, it doesn’t have to feel like a big, drastic life change. It feels smaller and more manageable.

Since I “officially” quit smoking, I have smoked probably about 3 or 4 times, it’s true. In almost all of those instances, I was, ahem, perhaps a bit tipsy. But none of those instances made me feel like I was in danger of starting again, because it just wasn’t a part of my life anymore. I feel like a non-smoker. And it feels pretty good. My mom is pretty happy about it, too.

I’m back! And sick as a dog.

It has been a full month since I last visited my little web home, and I’ve missed it here. Our wedding was wonderful. The whole weekend was full of fun and so much love. It was like a happiness parade.

Sean and Laura on the wedding day.
Photo courtesy of Nicole Lewon

Then we went to Hawaii for two full weeks. Amazing. We did so much, but still had time to feel relaxed and to loaf around on the beach. We went for a helicopter ride, we went kayaking, we hiked the Na Pali coast and Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. We went horseback riding in the Waipio Valley. We took a snorkeling cruise. We got really tan. It was a really wonderful vacation, and yes, we’re still pulling our photos together to share.

Then we came back and I was ready to get to work. I was excited to get to work! And I immediately contracted the plague. Alright, it’s not the plague. At first I thought it was just a cold, but now a nurse thinks it might be strep, so I’m going for a strep screening today.

At least I have the perfect remedy for illness:

A bottle of bourbon and a bottle of honey sitting on a counter.

I especially love this honey for my hot toddies. It was a gift from my Aunt Cathie, and I think it has extra healing properties, with the ginger and the bee pollen. And it’s tasty.

I’m about to head to the doctor’s office. Then I think I will spend the rest of the day writing because, my friends, it’s NaNoWriMo.

Oh, and then I’m supposed to fly to Louisville, Kentucky on Wednesday to give a presentation at LITA Forum. One day, I will actually make it through a full week at work.

The Wedding Body

In the months leading up to our wedding, despite the fact that I do have a brain, and most of the time it functions, I thought I was going to be able to transform my body into something lean, toned, and taut. Let’s be real here: I’m a short, curvy lady, with something of a bottom. My hips are 44 inches around, and I have a little pooch of a belly. My legs are pretty solid. I am not, nor have I ever been, lean. My arms will probably always jiggle a little bit.

I’ve had a pretty solid fitness routine going for the last few years, but for some reason I thought I’d be able to amp it up even more in order to achieve this mythical bridal body. But real life happened, as it does. And besides, I don’t really want to exercise more than an hour a day. I have other shit to do. So the months passed, and I kept thinking this super-body would appear somehow. But the fact is, I’m pretty much the shape and weight I’m going to be. If I wasn’t willing to take extreme measures, nothing was really going to change.

And I don’t want to take extreme measures. Because that aforementioned brain is a feminist one, and I knew in my heart that all this bridal body stuff was a myth, and offensive, and mentally unhealthy.

But that’s just the thing. Even though we know it’s not healthy to obsess over our bodies, to obsess over what we’re eating or how often we’re exercising, we can’t stop. Ok, maybe I should only speak for myself here, but…I know I’m not only speaking for myself. I knew that an impending wedding, during which I would be the center of attention and have hundreds of pictures taken of me, was guaranteed to increase my stock of body woe and self-consciousness. And I didn’t really know what to do about it.

Now I’m less than two weeks out from the wedding, and I look pretty much the same way I did the day my partner proposed to me. A part of me is disappointed. I have to be honest about that. But…it’s only a tiny part. Mostly, I feel the kind of self-acceptance that has eluded me for most of my life. Because I look pretty much the same way I did the day my partner proposed to me, and guess what? He proposed. He certainly wasn’t waiting until I lost a few pounds, the way that I have put off too many things in life because of some twisted idea about what I look like, and what I should look like.

It’s odd, these mixed feelings. I doubt I’m ever going to completely shake the desire for a firmer bottom, but realizing that I’m going to look the way I look at my wedding, and that I’m going to look beautiful, that has done more than a lifetime of reading feminist body acceptance pieces and trying to think positively has ever done. It feels like all of the body-positive thoughts I’ve had before have just flitted on the surface, but this time, this feeling is sinking a little deeper. It has settled in just a tiny bit more.

Two weeks from now I’ll be on a beach in Hawaii in the first bikini I’ve worn since I was 17. And I won’t look the way I imagined I’d look. But I will look like me, and I’m sure I’ll be having a great time.

Happy New Year’s Cold!

Sick Bed Side Table

 

We had a whirlwind of a holiday season. Between Sean’s family and my family, and a surprise visit from some of our very best friends, plenty of wine and cheese and mashed potatoes, and, oh yeah, celebrating our engagement, we both ended our vacations feeling a little run down. I was definitely ready for some serious fresh-start, new-project, cleanse-and-cure January action.

I love January. I love resolutions, and goal setting, and starting over again with a fresh page. This year, due to the aforementioned whirlwindiness, I got kind of a late start, but I did some reflection. I thought about all the exciting things that are coming up this year, the things I accomplished last year, and the things I want to learn and do this year. I starting making plans for refreshing our apartment, refreshing our diets, refreshing my friendships, and all that other wonderful New Year stuff. I was going to spend this weekend sewing, and cleaning our apartment, taking down Christmas ornaments and stocking our pantry and refrigerator with a crap ton of vegetables and fruits and whole grains.

Then I got totally sick. I knew this was coming. I had been telling Sean for the previous week that I could feel it, hovering. I knew my immune system was not in optimal condition, thanks to all that wine, and cheese, and those mashed potatoes. Saturday afternoon, I did manage to finish sewing a cute polka dotted blouse (pictures soon!), before I succumbed, and found myself on the couch sneezing and coughing, where I have been ever since.

My instinct is to feel frustrated that my January Goals are being pushed even further back. I am ready to start cleansing and curing! I’m ready for projects! I want to clean! But my body wants other things entirely.

The thing that I realized, though, is that I don’t need to rely on some arbitrary day on the calendar, or schedule set by someone else, to get my fresh start on. My goals can be achievable on my own timeline, one that will allow me some rest and recuperation first.

That fresh start will still be waiting for me, once I’m done coughing and sneezing, and I can breathe through both nostrils at the same time. In the meantime, I’ll be in bed, watching Vampire Diaries and catching up on some of the reading I didn’t get to do on vacation.

My Fitness Story

This morning I read a blog post on A Beautiful Mess, a blog I’ve been falling in love with lately. In the post, Emma details how she made some lifestyle changes that helped her become healthier, and incidentally, happier. She talked about how important it is to make small, reasonable changes that can be sustained over a lifetime, and implicit in her piece is that fact that when you incorporate healthy habits because of how they make you feel, not how they make you look, you’ll make yourself much happier.

Emma’s story prompted me to share my own circuitous path to a healthier life. I think women don’t often talk about health and fitness in positive ways. We have learned to focus on what we look like, how skinny we are, rather than how we feel. We are taught all about crash diets and extreme boot camp fitness routines so we can lose 10 pounds in a week or whatever. I’d love to hear more women talk about how they feel in their bodies, and how they found a way to live positively in them, so I’m sharing my own story, in the hopes that you’ll share yours.

I was never an athletic kid, growing up. I didn’t play team sports, I didn’t take dance classes. I walked, and rarely ran, the mile in PE class. I thought that being a jock was diametrically opposed to being a nerdy reading girl, which I most definitely was. I also didn’t know what nutritional eating was all about. My mom did her best to feed us well-rounded, healthy meals, but I gorged myself on fast food and Pepsi when I was outside of the house. So by the time I was 18, I didn’t exactly have a solid set of health habits (let’s not even talk about the fact that I started smoking at 15, because I was clearly dumb and rebellious).

I did occasionally do aerobics in high school: I had the Cindy Crawford work out videos, and the Susan Powter work out videos, and even the Jennie Garth work out video. But I didn’t do any of this often enough or consistently enough to make any difference in how I felt about my body. I worked out because I thought I was fat, not because I wanted to be healthier.

I took my first yoga class my first year of college, offered through the campus Phys Ed department. And I surprised myself by loving it. I also took a few modern dance classes, which were totally fun, even though the ab workouts the instructor made us do were nearly impossible for me. But by my junior year I didn’t have time in my schedule for exercise. And I was still eating pretty terribly: nachos and burritos were probably the staple part of my diet.

When I graduated, I weighed 165 pounds, and I am 5’2″. I’m not a naturally thin person, and since adolescence have never weighed less than 135, but at 165, I was decidedly overweight. And I wasn’t healthy.

I moved to Boston after college, where I didn’t have a car, and I was broke broke broke. I lost a lot of weight fast because I walked everywhere and I couldn’t afford to eat as much as I had been. But I still wouldn’t characterize myself as healthy, merely thinner. I had no endurance for physical exercise, I was a weakling, and I was still smoking, so yeah. Health? What as that? I was 23 and more concerned with hanging out with my friends and drinking beer than exercise.

It wasn’t until I was about 26 or so that I realized I had to make some changes. I didn’t feel good. I was tired all the time. I was depressed. I hated my body, not only for how I thought it looked, but for how it felt. But it seemed so daunting. When I got an office job and realized that I would be getting even less exercise than I did as a waitress, I knew it was time, and I joined a gym. This was the first time I started to get real consistent exercise in my life.

And I LOVED it. My gym offered a great variety of aerobics classes, and I fell in love with step. I realized how much I like to dance, and how much I wish that I’d done it when I was younger. I started going to the gym three times a week, then four, and soon, I was going almost every day. I felt really good, and started to notice that my endurance and strength were increasing. My hour at the gym became a routine part of my life, and I missed it when I didn’t go.

Around the same time, I started reading books like “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” and “Fast Food Nation.” I started to think more critically about what I was eating, and I taught myself how to cook. Incorporating healthier eating habits into my life was a lot harder than the exercise part, and I’m still learning and working on balance and moderation. I know that this will be a lifelong process for me, but I also learned what I need to do to ensure that I’m eating well most of the time.

Of course, graduate school meant that I had to quit my expensive gym membership, and I was suddenly so busy that I didn’t have time for exercise anymore. After two years of grad school, I had gained back all the weight I’d lost, and was once again feeling lethargic and weak. That’s when I realized how quickly and easily good habits can disappear if you don’t pay attention.

When I finished grad school and moved out of Boston, I was the heaviest I’d ever been. I was still smoking, and I knew that, at 30, I had to quit. That would take another three years, but as soon as I settled into my new town, Walla Walla, Washington, I joined the only gym option that was available to me: Jazzercise. I slowly incorporated regular exercise back into my life, and soon was back to my five day a week routine. I had time again to cook healthy food, and after six months of regular exercise, I was feeling better than ever. And I really loved Jazzercise. Again, I learned that it is absolutely dance that keeps me engaged and exercising regularly.

When we moved again, I was afraid that another big life change would derail the progress I’d made. But I was determined not to lose my good habits. I’m still looking for the right gym for me in Oakland, but when we moved here, I slowly took up running. I was NEVER a runner, and never thought I would be one. I was convinced that my body was just not suited for running. But my good friend Crystal taught me that you’re allowed to slow the heck down, that running doesn’t have to be a race. I’m not fast, but last month I ran a 9K, and I managed to run the whole thing, without walking, and even made decent time for slow little old me.

I can’t even describe how great it felt to achieve a goal that my younger self would never have believed I was capable of. Pushing myself to do something outside of my comfort zone, and succeeding at it, was a real triumph for me, and a moment when I realized that fitness isn’t just for “jocks,” but is for everyone.

Now, I’m regularly taking Zumba classes, my new love, and I’m even thinking of becoming an aerobics instructor. I feel strong, and rather than hating my body for what it isn’t, I’m grateful to it for the things it does. I’m not going to pretend like a lifetime of being conditioned to be critical of my body has been wiped away. I still have moments of doubt and insecurity, but those are far outweighed by pride, and the sheer exhiliration that I feel when I’m moving.

Emma offered some extremely helpful advice to those of you who are trying to develop good habits, like starting slowly, and not trying to do anything drastic or extreme, because you won’t be able to keep it up. This is all true and such smart advice. But I wonder a lot how we can get younger women (and men!) who aren’t athletes to become physically active.

When I was a kid, PE was dreaded. I hated team sports, and because we cycled through every sport in six week intervals, I never actually learned to play any of them or enjoy them. Not to mention that most of the time in PE, kids are just standing around, waiting for their turn, or assiduously avoiding it. I’ve often thought that, at least at the junior or high school level, kids would be much better served by having a gym-like place on campus. If kids who aren’t involved in sports could instead spend an hour of their day taking an aerobics class, or running on a treadmill, or taking a strength training class or a yoga class, they might learn at much earlier ages how great it feels to be physically active. Instead, we make fitness seem like torture. We reserve it for the kids who are jocks, and leave everyone else to stand around on dusty fields, waiting for the hour to be over. If my high school self could have taken a step class or a zumba class every day, I would have found out how much I love it and developed those healthy habits way sooner in life.

I wish that women could learn from an early age how to move our bodies, and feed them well, and appreciate them for what they can do, rather than loath them and try to change them. I wish that the default in our society didn’t isolate young women from our bodies. I wish that I hadn’t had to wait until I was 30 years old to learn that I, too, can be athletic.

And yes, regular exercise has helped me maintain a healthy weight, not to mention given me clearer skin, shinier hair, and a stronger body. Yeah for fitness!

So, what’s your story? How do you feel about exercise? Have you found the thing that makes your body sing?

PS – I did quit smoking finally, four months ago. Quitting was another thing that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do, and am so proud of myself for achieving. If you’re afraid quitting will be hard, let me tell you that it doesn’t have to be. Maybe someday soon I’ll share my quitting story here, too.