Battle of the Bulge: Bulge OK?

I missed this episode of Dr. Oz, but I read a synopsis of it here.

Since I carry an absolute terror of "gym" exercise and an absolute love of carbs, Dr. Glenn Gaesser is my hero. 

He recently came out with a book called Big Fat Lies: The Truth About Your Weight and Your Health. (I have not read it). 

The points mentioned on the show that are of interest to me: 

(1) If one has healthy eating habits and exercises regularly, he will be healthy despite his weight. There is a current belief that health can be determined by weight, but that is not so; one can be unhealthy and skinny, and healthy and heavy. 

- I moderately exercise (daily walks to the train, the occasional recreational stroll) and I eat healthy foods while being aware of serving sizes. I feel good. Since I avoid doctors I cannot say if my gut feeling (no pun intended) corresponds to reality, but I am abiding by Dr. Gaesser's theory. 

(2) Exercise cannot help one lose weight. Exercise can help one maintain weight, but not necessarily lose. If exercise alone is implemented to lose weight, one will actually gain rather than lose. Exercise is more necessary for health rather than weight.

- I have noticed that of the many who I know regulalry go to the gym, only a few are actually skinny. The others are heavy. I don't remotely exert myself as much as they do, yet by adding various steps to how I much I eat I have lost weight, not by exercise. 

One girl I know went to a sadistic trainer, and came home so broken and self-pitying that she hit the fridge. Many think that exercise magically evaporates all calories, but that is not so. Fatty foods are not neutralized by one outing to the gym. To lose weight, one has to take the type and quantity of foods into consideration, but not as a stunty diet; as a life change. 

(3) Carbs are not the devil's invention. 

- I pretty much consume mostly carbs. They are whole wheat, although Dr. Gaesser says that two servings refined white flour and three servings whole wheat is ideal. My system isn't happy with white flour, so I prefer the whole wheat. I have not seen carbs to negatively impact my weight control. 

My day begins with carefully measured out cereal, midday is often whole wheat pita or pasta (also calculated servings). Potatoes, brown rice, crackers, and so forth, are all my beloveds. And I've been maintaining my current weight successfully for ten months.  

I feel so free! 

We Are Not Alone

I nearly died laughing reading this article. The similarities between the plight of black women and of frum gals is just too much. 

Angela Stanley begins with a familiar grievance: 

Few things in life are more irritating than the unsolicited comments I get that black women, like me, are unlikely to marry. Family members ask, “Are you ever going to get married?” as if I am remaining single purposely to keep them from attending my wedding. Well-meaning married friends try to sell me on the idea that being single is liberating. And then there is my octogenarian aunt whom I love, but who also manages to unintentionally sucker punch me whenever I visit with the comment, “Maybe if you’d just straighten your hair you’d be able to find a man.” 

All areas are covered: the hypothetical, the false pep-talk, and the advice on how changing some minor quality will magically open the door. Then: 

Implicit in some of their comments is the idea that my failure to marry is beyond my control, a function of being born black and female. 

"Failure to marry is beyond her control." Could she mean . . . a crisis? 

Without warrant, black women have been the main focus of the “marriage crisis.” 

Ha Ha! She does! But, as I believe about the frummies, she says it is a figment of imaginations. 

This culturally popular notion that 70 percent of black women don’t marry is just a myth. For the last few years, I have been hearing from every source imaginable that the vast majority of black women will never marry. This never made sense to me because so many black women I know are married. And indeed, eventually, most black women do marry. 

She brings statistics that show black women mostly do marry; just not as young as the white demographic. 

But since the myth involves only black women, it should be assumed that black men are all married, right? Wrong. Actually, the numbers show that more black men remain unmarried than black women in the same age group. 

So why are black women getting all the negative attention? Sexism.

Perhaps one would insist that our community is free of such "ism"s, but I'm starting to wonder. It really is unnatural how much single men are placed on pedestals while women are often mistreated in the search for a mate. If a boy is single at 28, do we hear "Oy, nebach" about him? Uh, no. 

There are logical reasons for black women to marry in their late 30s through their 40s, compared with women of other races who are more likely to marry in their late 20s and early 30s. Significantly more black women than black men are earning college degrees. That means significantly fewer black men are on college campuses, and thus in their 20s are not in the same arenas physically, educationally or professionally, making it more difficult to find black partners of equal footing — and the reality is that a lot of black women still prefer black men as partners. With age, the numbers of unmarried black women and men become significantly lower, suggesting that both find themselves at places in their lives where they are ready and able to commit. 

The black men are not going to college. As many frum boys are not. All frum girls are expected nowadays to seek higher education to get a career, but not all frum boys are. It therefore leaves inequities as women seek equally educated men. 

This is not to imply that there are no great single black men out there or that all single black women are the best catches, but the theories behind supply and demand are real. For some women, this dynamic is fine, but many others are opting out. Some black women choose to be single rather than settle, but rarely is this discussed as a real explanation for why some black women are unmarried. When a black woman says she is choosing to be single, most people assume she just can’t get a man. And it’s not as if successful black women are driving black men into the arms of women of other races. The census numbers confirm that black men largely still marry black women over any other race. 

Choosing not to settle obviously leaves one to be single longer, but it's not due to a lack in the female, but rather lack in the available men. But the men aren't going elsewhere; they also want black partners, both sides preferring not to "marry out." Therefore, there is nothing wrong in terms of quantity; it is more an issue of quality.

However, because black men have been disproportionately affected by social inequities, black women have been implicitly conditioned not to add to that burden. Being critical of black men, instead of being supportive and sympathetic, is often viewed as adding to the problems of black men. 

Women are told not to criticize, and in our community, to literally support. Young girls are told that the only way to get a man is to financially keep him in the style in which he has become accustomed. 

In the meantime, I’ll be working on my snappy comebacks for everyone monitoring my relationship status.  

Same here.

What Suits the Fruit?

I have previously mentioned the various fruity shapes we can come in. To begin with examples for accommodating attire, I am going to use cardigans. The descriptions below can be executed with hoodies, sweaters, vests, and so forth, but I shall use cardigans for visual imagery.

Cropped cardigans suit pears very well; consider pairing a short top to a very flary skirt. The skirt conceals the largeness of the . . . pear bottom while defining the waist, and the cardigan reveals the feminine form above.

The skirt should explode outward from the waistline, not fit and flare. That's not pear's friend.

Via colorkitten.com

See how the waist is defined? To compensate for that volume, a form-fitting top is needed, either tucked in or cropped. Nothing long (by long I mean longer than the waist) unless it's tucked in, because (a) the added fabric will then look bulky instead of neat and (b) if the waist isn't defined, then what's the point?

What of the apples? 

The apples can wear fit-and-flare (also known as trumpet or mermaid), or pencil skirts, but obscuring the belly calls for careful selection. Cardigans can also do the job, but not too long either! Too long means the fabric adds volume to the derriere, where apples don't gain, and should, therefore, exploit. The belly is what has to be played down. 

This is a good length. I don't know what the term is, but not much longer than that. 

 

Then, an apple can look something like this:

One of the beauties of the female frame is the hourglassy shape (hopefully) absent in the male form, as sung about in South Pacific. Sometimes, of course, the mid-section should be swathed in long, baggy fabric—during pregnancy, for instance. 

But if you are not an incubator, show off your waist!

Shabbos Face: Eyeshadow IV

A finishing touch: 

By applying some sort of light color to the inner corner of the eye, the eyes can appear farther apart and larger. There are many options for inner-corner brightener, but as I eschew sparkly yet also pursue the dramatic, matte white suits me fine.

See how the inner corners are bright?

I purchased the matte white from Illamasqua. There is also one by Make Up Forever. 

If a more muted look is desired, the highlighter for under the brow bone can be used for this as well. 

Easy Aspirin Mask

One day I was struggling to grind aspirin for a face mask. My wrist was aching as I twirled the pill crusher back and forth, but after smashing the stuff for quite some time, the pieces still weren't small enough. Then I had an epiphany.

Aspirin dissolves, Doofenshmirtz.

I poured a bunch of aspirin into a container along with aloe gel. In no time at all the aspirin had quietly disintegrated. I gave it a final stir, and presto, my wrist was ache-free and my face was tingling pleasantly beneath the aspirin mask. 

Suck It Up

Menschlachkeit has many different aspects, but up for discussion today is the premise of being pleasant and present when one would rather be a million light years (or parsecs) away.

I have noticed that as time goes on, some daters just don't want to try anymore. They are crabby, they are jaded, they are weary with the whole process. Understandable. 

But why should I be dragged down with you?

There was a story involving a famous Rav, the name of which, regrettably, I cannot recall. A man was walking down the street, his face so long it was practically on the floor. The Rav, walking by, was horrified. "Reb Moishe, what's wrong?" Moishe replied, "Rosh HaShana is coming up, and I'm terrified for Yom HaDin." The Rav replied, "Because you are upset, I should suffer?"

An acquaintance was hosting a Shabbos singles event—one of those things when we all sit around a Shabbos table in a private home. It was fun, I must say, although I doubt any dates came from it. I met some nice people, and we all easily chatted. 

There was one guy there who didn't look so chipper. He was in his low-30s, and his blah outlook on life was made obvious. "We're all serial daters," he said wearily. His expectations were, apparently, nil.

Following this incident I had gone out with guy also in his low 30s. Now I'll admit, I was sure I was going to be swamped by an Energizer Bunny's worth of bad energy like from Guy 1—disinterest, monotonous "uh-huh"s, griping about how the dating world has failed him. 

I was met instead by a radiantly cheerful fellow. He was an absolute mensch, chivalrous, considerate, polite. I still think about his positive attitude, how he showed the same exuberance despite this being his nth first date. 

He never hinted that my height was a personal insult, the way many dates blatantly insinuate. He didn't mention any other women he had gone out with. Throughout the entire outing, he maintained the same upbeatness.   

I have gone out with guys way younger than him that act like taking me out wasn't their idea and behave all put upon. 

Sure, I have gone on dates where I was struggling with emotions like "Can I kill him?" or "What a loser" or "They let him leave the house?" or "He's nice, but so not for me." Did I show it? No. I behaved until the bitter end. Will they possibly think that means I was interested? Perhaps. But that is not my concern.

Emotions are the parts of us that can trip us up. They have a time and a place, of course, but they must be ruled by a higher power, meaning our rational brains (I heard this concept from Esther Wein). And one of the things it means to be a "grown up" and "mature" and "ready to get married" is to suck it up.  

You don't want to be here? Who says I do?

Revenging References . . . Or Worse?

I was reminded of my own school days by Bad4's recent post regarding high school morahs tendency to ensure meek student diligence by threatening to bad-mouth them in the future. 

I will be blunt; my class was rather rowdy. If they weren't reigned in the first few days by a grim and steady-handed educator, then the rest of the year would not involve much book learning. I would spend my days silent and attentive, while my classmates' behavior echoed that of the chimp habitat. 

Resistance was futile (Borg reference). Any sort of objections I made were drowned out. 

With heels clicking, so entered Darth Morah. 

At that time, she was an unmarried female of indeterminate age; somewhere in her mid 20s, I believe. She taught classes through the various grades, and she managed to hold this one relatively in line. But as tales of woe spread about the teachers' lounge, she felt compelled to act for the greater good. 

Girls who misbehaved in class, she informed us, in the somber tones of a ghost story, never married. 

She really should have flicked off the lights and held a flashlight to her face. 

Did you ever hear the story of the mean girl and the terrorized morah? Well, when the mean girl got older, she wondered why she wasn't married yet. She went to a rabbi who asked her if she ever did anybody wrong, and she thought of (for some reason) her high school teacher. 

She called up the teacher to ask her forgiveness . . . and the teacher wouldn't give it. 

Shivers, anyone? 

My class was, rather entertainingly, scared spitless. They proceeded to draw up a binding document on looseleaf paper, requesting pardon for previous crimes and a promise to behave in the future, which was solemnly signed by each student. 

They flourished the document under my nose for signature. 

I refused. 

Due to their new understanding of the world, they reminded me that I wouldn't get married. 

I retorted that unlike them, I never misbehaved. 

They shook their heads sadly at my folly, and walked away to leave me to my single fate. 

Approximately 72 hours later, the class returned to pandemonium. 

On top of the fact that they were grossly disrespecting their elders, my class was now guilty of breaking a neder, one that had been placed in writing. 

Oddly enough (shocker!) the transgressors are married. Happily, I cannot say. But despite Darth Morah's doom-saying, they did wed.

Is my single state, perversely, due to the fact that I would not apologize for doing nothing wrong? 

I think not.

So What If I'm Right?

Rabbi Yisroel Reisman is my main man. Nearly every Motzei Shabbos, I go to his Navi shiur. He rarely disappoints.

One week, he really made me think. He described two situations:

Everyone has heard of the Wright Brothers, the inventor of the airplane. The thing is, there was some problems with the patents, so as soon as it was out there it was being knocked off. The Wrights fought tooth and nail for the rights to The Airplane,  and eventually succeeded. However, the rights did not provide them with financial success, and their images were tarnished as the country went from seeing them as heroes to considering them greedy. Neither brother married; they had no time. Wilbur died at 45. Orville remained in the bike shop.

Then there is . . . I forget his name. No one has really heard of him. He is an inventor of a form of plastic, but instead of zealously guarding the rights he worked with other companies, and became very wealthy.

The moral being here is that yes, one can be right. But does it pay?

I was having this internal debate for a long time. I travel on the train every day, where inevitably some commuter pulls out their cell phone and goes at it. It doesn't even matter if they keep their voices low, I can still heeeeaaaar you. I would glare to no avail. And being young, I don't feel it proper to tell 60 year old people to can it. With some, requesting a lowered voice would get one a chilly and awkward train ride while the pitch remains the same.

I feel even worse when the phone talker is Jewish and disturbs the whole train. It happens often, too often (if you're going to talk, take off the kapul, okay?) 

The train announcements regularly exhort riders to have consideration for the fellow passengers by keeping conversations short and speaking softly. Doesn't help much. 

Yes, I'm right. But so what? No one is getting rid of their phones, or waiting until they get to the office to call up Grandma. Text has helped things a little, except many have loud sound effects for "new message."

Phones are today's greatest tool against boredom and looking busy, and no one is giving it up fast.

I came upon the perfect solution. Positively brilliant in its simplicity.

Earplugs.

I want a quiet train ride to read or nap without being forced to hear other people's stupidity ("Wadyasay? Wadyasay? Wadyasay?")

I tried it today. It was great. Some sound came through, but I couldn't discern actual words. Taking a boring book with me, I dozed off pleasantly. Except I was sitting next to a concerned citizen who tapped me when there were still ten minutes left to the trip to tell me the last stop was coming up.

To finish off, a quote from the Rabbi of Lublin: "It is better to have an imperfect peace than a perfect controversy."

In order to have shalom, we have to be able to put aside our desire to be right. Because that isn't happening anytime soon.

Shabbos Face: Eyeshadow III

When color is done, a highlight shade should be applied beneath the brow bone (no color should have been applied there). 

Via lamasbeauty.com

The highlight color should be a shade or two brighter than the skin tone. Make Up For Ever has a number of possibilities in Eggshell 3 (matte ivory) or Bisque 15 (matte ivory beige). I own one of these, but I can't tell which, because the color name has rubbed off. 

Ma's favorite is Lancome Color Design Sensational Effects Eyeshadow Smooth Hold in Daylight.

Daylight

Another type of brush is also needed for this step, specifically a tapered blending brush. Not too large now. 

I have a Mac-knockoff—bdellium Shading Blending Eye Brush #776. The bristles should be a little stiff to blend the highlight and color, leaving no harsh lines. 

Take a little highlight color (not too much that excess will flake over the color) and, as MakeUp Geek would say, wind-shield wipe back and forth, back and forth, ensuring the color is blended together with the highlight.

Miss Me?

I have returned! 

Thanks to those who left comments while I was gone; I look forward to reading your thoughts.