A question of life imitating art: Sasha Fierce and Summer

I am not... Sasha Fierce.

Every time I hear Beyonce's "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" it gets stuck in my head, and not just my head as in the catchy rhythmic beat that makes time on the treadmill spin by, but the way a contradiction of a love-hate relationship gets caught in the wheels of the mind. I hate that I like this song.

Much has already been written and said about whether this song is really an anthem to female empowerment or a chink in the armor of feminism... and like most arguments of this nature, no one on either side agrees, so there is an understanding to disagree politely. After all, this is just a song, right?

I am coming in late to the discussion, but with the Grammy's around the corner and the song stuck in my head, there is a renewed interest for me. First, I do not believe there is anything as "just a song" as all art, all communication and all action has influence in some way. That isn't say it is all meaningful influence or wide-spread, but when a song like Beyonce's is as viral as this particular one, it does become more important to understand what we are bopping around to.

On the surface, it is a song talking about getting over a failed relationship; an "anthem" to say if you don't like that I've moved on, we should have got married. Now, I'm only slightly okay with that... but assuming marriage is a metaphor of commitment, well, then, I can get on board (and if we assume the "it" in the song is the relationship and not the speaker). But what I really struggle with, the essence that causes a brain cell meltdown for me is the age-old theme that we always seem to overlook... in order to move on, the character (because a song is a story) is out in the club hooking up with another guy.

Not to discount the value of a rebound relationship, but recognizing too many times, this is the "answer" not only this song delivers, but that I see too often for real and often at the detriment of the already emotionally weakened party. We are all probably guilty of going this route on at least one occasion (and some more than we'd care to admit) and there is nothing really wrong with it--this isn't a value judgement, but a recognition that there are other ways. Too many women need to find their value and self-worth through a relationship; I hear it in the coffee shop, from friends and acquaintances, and in music, television, movies and books.

And, I've noticed a growing trend of depicting men in the same vein... most recently the example struck me in watching the movie 500 Days of Summer. In this movie, if you haven't seen it, we follow Tom's relationship with Summer... she's simply not into it, not willing to commit and he's crushed, finding in the end, his only solace of hope in the meeting of another woman (groaningly named Autumn). The movie, while well-acted, with moments of brilliance in writing, ultimately failed me with its theme. Another love-hate moment where I couldn't fault some of the brilliance in its art, but found myself cringing at the overall theme.

So, is this a question of life imitating art, or vice versa? What can be taken from today's most common and popular art forms? Are we able as a society enmasse to accept these themes and transcend them, or are they as emergent and popular because as a society they are the norm? Questions I ponder that I wish more people would rather than just posting another YouTube video of themselves dancing to Beyonce's music.

True Love and Labels

In my masochistic stomping of those aisles drowned in pinks and reds, I came across a bag of one of my only favorite things about Valentine's Day--Necco Sweethearts. Every year (aside from my Resolutions), I make it a point to find those little boxes of conversation hearts with the plastic, heart-shaped window to the confectionery promises written with Red dyes 5 and 40. Digging out the white treats and savoring their strange, medicinal pepperminty goodness is one of those delightful moments that happen once a year and hearken back to another time usually forgotten.

This year, struck by the packaging on the large bag... and particularly dumbstruck by the slogan scripted along the bottom: "The Official Candy of Love" I was compelled by some unknown universal force to buy an entire bag. Maybe it was the slogan, perhaps it was the flamboyant pink heart blasting its message of True Love, or maybe it was a moment of candy nostalgia. But, like so many things that proclaim one thing on the package, my Sweethearts were no different as this package turned out to be tart candies, and not the traditional Necco heart flavors of stale sugar.

Once again labels cannot be trusted. And as I spit out the vile candy into the trash, I was reminded of the words spoken at a seminar I recently attended: There are no regulations for what is put on the outside packaging of food; it is all marketing. The lesson, while targeted to get those to actually read the ingredients list on food packaging, was not lost on the Sweethearts purchase. Of course, the other lesson was that with my aim to eat a cleaner diet, there is no room for such a bag of various combinations of processed sugar and chemical dyes.

Now, with the candy handed off to another, I am working on pulling myself out of my backward slide with the recognition that I need to learn a better way of handling the stress that exercise, meditation and hanging out with friends couldn't seem to conquer. I'll speak with my health coach this week; she's great at asking me the questions that when my mind is filled with the Candy of Love gets me to a clearer place. In the meantime, I gave my achy body a break from the gym this weekend and my head the permission to read the small print on the food labels in the grocery... and for the first time in a very long time, did not work on cooking or new recipes this weekend. Sometimes, I guess we have to just have to read beyond the labels.

How I Lost 5 Pounds with Mama Mia!...or why Lady Gaga has made Abba ok again

The title of today's blog came to me an hour into my cardio workout (you know, making up for missing a day from travel and all) as I realized I'd burned 800 calories fueled by the sheer disco power of Abba. Now, admittedly it wasn't Abba direct--I was listening to the soundtrack courtesy of the 2008 movie version (you know the one where Pierce Brosnan pretends he can sing and Christine Baranski brilliantly steals every scene from Meryl Streep)--but it was Abba in spirit.

Now, brief mathematical lesson and clarification... 800 calories does not equal five pound weight loss--it wouldn't even equal one pound. It actually requires a deficit of about 17,500 calories to get a five pound weight loss; a number so staggering to think about I bet it would send any resolutioner running to their nearest Girl Scout for a box of (not-so) Thin Mints (which have 1280 calories per box--or 40 calories a cookie).

The above paragraph is precisely why I have no idea if I have lost five pounds or anything at all, really. I'm still too head-close to my eating disorder to let another set of irrelevant numbers into my mind to churn in numerous calculations and permutations. Yes, the sadist nurses at my doctor's office weigh me incessantly, but I choose to not know.

My dysfunction aside, I was enjoying my workout earlier with multiple selections from Mama Mia! when after listening to Baranski's version of "Does you mother know you're out" for the second time, I skipped ahead to the next song on the play list. It was as Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi" began its indulgent and sensuous sound that I realized it was Abba revisited and revamped for the current century. The lavish performances, costumes, songs with that familiar sound and lyrics that tell their stories in the same simplistically profound manner. It isn't an insult, but for one who recalls when it was only ok to admit my propensity for indulging in a certain Swedish band in certain gay male company, Lady Gaga is a conduit that makes it a hard argument to rally against being a Dancing Queen or Super Trooper. It may not last, so I'm basking in it while I can.

Resolutioners

That's what I call them; those earnest folk that blast into the New Year with their life changing ambitions... and subsequently into my gym and the usually quiet natural foods aisles of the grocery I spend most of my time and money when shopping. On a side note, just because that box of mac and cheese is organic does not make it a healthy choice... just sayin'.

While I want to admire the ambition and enthusiasm of this mass burn, I quietly go about my workout (sadly often regulated to the StairMaster because I don't want to wait for another piece of equipment, or worse, having to share my lane in the pool) waiting, with little patience, the mass exodus that will take hold in the next few weeks. There will be some who find a new lifestyle, but most will fail. I wish they wouldn't, but because they continue along the same vein every year that somehow January 1 will be the turning point... and when it becomes reality that it has not really changed anything, and real change requires real work, the equipment in the gym and the pool gets a little less crowded.

As most of my family and friends know, I do not make resolutions on the New Year. Every month, I make one small decision on something I would like to do differently... and if it is something I like after a month, I keep it. Not everything we attempt is something we can live with. Last month, I ditched chemical sweetners... tapered off because the majority of my chemical sweetners also included a significant amount of caffeine. I was not and am not foregoing caffeine, but I can tell you, I go days now with none and I really don't miss it.

This month, I'm fitting more strength training back into my workouts. At least once a week. Strength training is not something I particularly enjoy; but it is necessary and I always feel good afterward. It does, however, feel like the longest 20-30 minutes of my workout.

A factor of success that I have long overlooked is a support network. I'm not always one for working out with a buddy... but I did find last year that partnering with someone for strength training did help keep me motivated and was reminded of that phenomenon this week when a friend and I decided to take an aerobics class. The class kicked my ass, but its fun making a fool of yourself with more than just strangers to stare at you tripping over your feet... "and grapevine left!!" Uh hunh.

And to the vein of support networks, I took my doctors advice -- sort of. She wanted me to see a dietitian; a tactic that she felt would help me through losing weight with hypothyroidism. Not an easy task with the said hypothyroidism is still uncontrolled, but to keep my wits about me and stop me from going down a road we both feared I would venture again (if I could manage the energy), I considered her suggestion. Now, dietitians and I have not had good relationships... so instead I opted for a health coach (who also happens to be a dietitian by training). The goal of health coaching is someone to help you through making behavior changes, setting and maintaining goals and identifying where the barriers exist. Mine understands that I sometimes just need an unbiased and objective sounding board. But she reminded me this week of the need for a network around me who understand and support my moves toward a much reduced chemical existence... I'd say I'm about 90/10 most days (if not better) for clean versus processed food... and like I told her on Friday, sometimes a girl just needs a little modified food starch with her lunch.

Twenty-10

The wind in Philadelphia must be what blew in the New Year this past weekend...it's been strong enough that if it keeps up, it will be 2011 in a few days. I ventured out a few times yesterday; but the gumption to bundle up and head out only to don a swimsuit and jump into a pool left me about ten minutes after I weighed the options. It has been since Wednesday that I've been to the pool, and I'm missing the scent of chlorine on my skin--it lingers even after a shower but absent three days, it is gone.

Instead, today, I engaged in a usual Sunday activity of cooking for the week--exploring new recipes with the added bonus of the oven helping to stave off the chill that a vicious wind gives the apartment, even with the heat turned up. I've been happily keeping myself busy with Tosca Reno's The Eat-Clean Diet Cookbook which I bought for myself as a reward for eliminating chemical sweetners from my diet (Splenda, Sweet n Low, Equal, etc). I've been free of these for a month now and most all cravings for sugar have gone with them. Now, there are times, like last night, when all I wanted was dessert for dinner... so a friend and I went to Dave and Busters where I ordered a fabulous fondue dessert and a coffee with Baileys.

Today's culinary adventures included cinnamon raisin whole wheat bread with oat bran, baked oatmeal with apples and rye, corn tortillas, chicken and beans with mole, brown rice and for today's lunch, a few of the fresh tortilla with some cheese and beans. Should make for a delicious week ahead.

Also in the week ahead... back to the pool, wind and cold be damned. And let's see if I can't be ambitious and finish a book or two...