Socal Mom by Donna Schwartz Mills

The Photo Op

"My mum wants a photo of the two of us together," my husband informed me. 

I took that statement to mean that he intended to set his camera up on his tripod, turn on the timer and snap away.

Photography is one of my husband's passions -- so of course, he married a woman who doesn't like to have her picture taken.

I wouldn't mind it so much if I liked the way the photos came out -- but they always end up depicting me as I actually look, which in reality isn't as good as it is in my mind -- and I don't like being reminded of that.

I'm especially reluctant to have my photo taken now, after I've gained so much weight... especially since the last time I saw my mother-in-law, she pointed it out to me (and I weigh more now than I did then).

So I decided to stall: "Can you wait a few days? I'm due for another haircut and would feel better if my hair looks good in the photo."

Unfortunately, my short haircut is a sore point with my husband. I know I wasn't crazy about it when I left the hairdresser... but so many people told me they liked it, I grew to like it, too.

The thing is, among the many physical changes I've experienced as I've grown older, hair loss has been the toughest one to handle (second only to the slowing metabolism that makes it that much harder to control my weight). When my husband and I met almost 23 years ago, I had a trim body and long, thick hair. And now... 

...well, let's just say that the bangs I wear are hiding a growing expanse of skin at the top of my head. It's my version of a Donald Trump-style combover. 

For years, the one instruction I've given any hairdresser is to do whatever possible to make it look like I've got hair where I don't. And the unfortunate thing is that the best way to do that is to keep it short.

But my husband hates it, and never misses an opportunity to tell me so -- and I just reminded him.

As for the photo: he's busy looking to see if he already has one he can send her -- you know, where I'm sporting longer hair.

I just hope he finds one where I weigh less, too.

The Disappearing Act

In the course of nearly eight years of blogging, there have been periods where I've been largely absent from this space -- just because life gets in the way.

This month has been one of them.

Online, I've been busy with outside writing (my latest automotive review is live at AskPatty), outside projects (have you listened to the MOMocrats podcast I produce each week?), and other obligations (why do I bother to videotape things when it takes me such a long time to edit them)?

Off line, I've had a whole lot of personal issues to deal with. Stuff of house and home (some of you may have noticed a post where I talked about the ongoing money pit I am living in -- which I deleted after my family objected to bits of it. I still maintain that my house is trying to kill me). Sick kids. Sick relatives. 

And then, there's me.

Most of the posts I've published this year have focused on my weight, which I had managed to manage for a while, but can do no longer. My husband will deny this, but I think he's furious at me. I'm pretty upset with myself, too and have been obsessed with trying to figure out why what worked a couple of years ago is not working now.

The likeliest culprit is menopause.

I've been spending a good deal of time reading dietititan Ashley Koff's new book, Mom Energy -- not least of all because I got to go to a MomsLA sponsored luncheon for it... and because Ashley has kindly allowed me to interview her (not once, but TWICE) for our MOMocrats podcast.

(I took some video at the luncheon and will upload it here at some point. After I've edited it.)

Ashley is a dynamic, knowledgeable advocate for nutritious, balanced eating -- which is something I have not really done in a very long time. For several years, I've limited my intake of carbohydrates, because I noticed that my body did not seem to metabolize them very well any longer -- plus, I was like an alcoholic with a drink. Give me a slice of bread and I'll eat the whole loaf.

It was just easier to go without.

Eventually, it wasn't enough to just limit carbs. The Lindora weight loss diet I successfully finished four years ago was low-carb, low-fat AND low-calorie (600-800 a day). Plus, exercise.

That is what it took to lose 56 pounds.

But last year, the weight started creeping back on.

And then it started piling back on.

I rejoined Lindora. And the results were disappointing. All of the tricks that worked for me in 2007 failed in 2011.

On June 1, I decided to experiment with veganism.

I'm now almost as fat as I was when I embarked on this weight loss adventure. It makes me depressed, unhappy, guilty, frightened... and at a loss, because I haven't a clue what I should eat any longer. 

I mentioned this to Ashley Koff at our luncheon earlier this month. She compared my metabolism to an elastic band that's been stretched too many times -- eventually, it loses all its snap.

And her book has other insights: I knew that my metabolism would slow down with menopause, but I did not know that the same body changes make women feel hungrier (one explanation why I'm having so much trouble sticking with small portions now, when I did not before). 

Ashley's co-author, fitness expert Kathy Kaehler, describes the problems she had with the onset of menopause: "I went through a year of being achy, feeling bad, and gaining weight no matter what I did."  Now, this confession comes from a woman who is one of the country's foremost professional trainers. That gave me a little solace.

Until I got to the next bit: "I decided to test the limits of my physicality and charge up a hill on my mountain bike like a madwoman. It shocked my system, but it's exactly what I needed. I had to get my heart rate up so high that my body was forced to respond."

I already read the reports that middle aged women need to work out an hour a day just to maintain their weight, and I have been trying to ignore it, because I DON'T HAVE THE TIME. 

But I need to make the time.

Last week, I started walking again: about three miles each on Friday, Sunday and yesterday. That's hard to do here in the Valley, because it's all long, boring stretches of blocks with nothing very interesting to see (although on Sunday, I did my walk along Ventura Boulevard, which has a lot of cute little shops to look at). I'm trying to work myself up to where I can get through a workout at the gym. If I want to get this under control, I will have to work harder and longer than I ever have before.

And if that means I don't visit this space as often as I'd like, that's just the way it's going to have to be.

DISCLOSURE: I received no compensation for this post. I did receive a review copy and an autographed copy of "Mom Energy" at the luncheon, plus a bag full of healthy food products to try... all of which are now taking up space on my rump. Which is my own fault.

Losing the Battle in the Weight War

I gave in last week and did the unthinkable: I upsized my jeans.

I am trying very hard not to be disgusted with myself. 

As many of you know, four years ago, I embarked on an extremely restrictive diet that resulted in the loss of 56-pounds in just seven months. I managed to get through the following year with just a 5-pound gain.

But one of the things that makes weight management so frustrating is that once you've been overweight, your body will fight you to get back to that benchmark. Scientists have identified a lot of reasons for this: fat cells that shrink but do not die, brain chemistry that makes you crave foods that are not your friend, metabolisms that slow as you age and bodies that more easily sustain injuries (which also make it easy to excuse yourself from exercise).

Earlier this year, I re-embarked on the same diet that worked so well for me a few years ago... only this time, the results were disappointing. I basically starved myself for 10 weeks on 800 calories a day, and barely lost 10 pounds.

I can't live on that kind of diet any longer. So in June, I decided to try veganism, and I convinced my husband to try that with me (noting that it would do wonders for both our cholesterol levels).

After years of low-calorie, extremely low carb eating that was focused on packaged, nasty-tasting diet products, switching to vegan was a revelation. I'm still not used to eating fruits, so I haven't had a lot of those. But it's been a joy to cook again. My daughter is still the pickiest of eaters and on most nights has been eating a different meal, but that's better than the three different meals I was working with while on the restrictive diet.

The variety of vegetables I've enjoyed has been marvelous... not to mention the bread, the brown rice, the pasta...

...I need to start thinking of carbohydrates the way I think of shrimp: as a food that could kill me if I even taste it. I'm an addict, and don't seem to be able to limit myself to just one, small serving. And without animal protein, this is the stuff I've resorted to when feeling hungry. Too bad it's poison to my BMI.

After two months, my husband lost so much weight that he should probably downsize his jeans.

And as noted at the top of this post, I've had the opposite result. To make matters worse, he keeps pointing it out to me (as if I'm not aware of it. For the record: I am aware, I'm not happy, and telling me doesn't help).

"The only thing wrong with you is that you don't get enough exercise," he says.

That's half-true. I don't get enough exercise, especially when my to-do list exceeds the amount of time I have for doing it, which has been the case all this year.  I need to accept the fact that I will NEVER finish EVERYTHING I want to do when I want to do it, and should just MAKE THE TIME to do the exercise.

This is easier said than done.

I'm going on a bike ride with the husband this afternoon. Maybe I can take time to do some more during the week.

But my husband needs to understand that my body does not shed weight as easily as his does. I know a lot of women who do eat all the right things, get plenty of exercise and are simply unable to lose the last five or ten pounds they feel they need to look good.

But hey - five or ten pounds is better than 20 or 30, right?

I am probably going to ease myself off the vegan diet and back into some form of low-carb/low cal/high protein regimen -- but hopefully, with more of an emphasis on fresh food.

However, I may be returning to the days when I had to cook three different meals at night. The challenge will be coming up with recipes that can be used as a base and adapted for each of us.

I may have lost this battle, but I'm not ready to give up.

Pondering What's Next

"Donna, come see this!"

My husband is on a mission: He's going through all the old videotapes we made of our daughter when she was little and converting them into digital files, and he keeps stumbling upon one adorable episode after another.

My first reaction upon reliving these moments is delight -- followed by wistful reflection on how much younger he and I looked. (Well duh. Some of these tapes were made the day she was born, 15 years ago.) Time passes too quickly.

It doesn't help that our daughter isn't home right now. She and her cousin desperately wanted to see the last Harry Potter film together when it debuts at midnight Thursday -- so when we drove home from Sacramento following the July 4 holiday, we left her there with my sister.

I miss her terribly. 

But aside from that: I am missing my younger, more confident, self-assured self. And I'm wondering what happened to her.

Thirteen years ago, I walked away from full-time, outside the home employment without looking back. Prior to that, I had spent over 20 years in the workforce. Most of that time, I had a pretty bad attitude, because I felt I was over qualified and way too smart to be working as a secretary, and I probably had good reason to feel that way, or my employers wouldn't have kept me around as long as they did.

At the end, I was working as a meeting planner for a large trade association, and I think I was doing a good job -- at least, I was getting annual performance bonuses that seemed to bear that out. 

And then, my daughter was born -- and my feelings of competency went out the window.

I was no longer able to put in long hours, because I had to get back into the Valley before the daycare closed. On top of that, the baby kept catching viruses -- and I ended up missing a lot of work to stay home with her. 

My job required a lot of travel. I missed the emergence of my daughter's first tooth, first real word, first steps. 

The performance bonuses stopped coming.

I felt like a failure; both as a worker and as a mom. I was burning out.

My husband had an opportunity for promotion, but his employers had an impression that he had a "childcare issue" (because his company's quarterly management meetings all seemed to occur on evenings when I was traveling for my work). He was up for a big bump in pay. It didn't cover what I would be losing by giving up my salary, but we both felt it was worth it.

Once I became a stay-at-home mom, I threw myself into it, and at least felt competent in that arena of my life.

But now, that chapter is coming to an end. In just three years, my baby will be a freshman in college. And I'm at a loss for what I'm going to do next.

I would like to go back to work, but with unemployment at such high levels, I'm afraid that looking for a job would be an exercise in disappointment. For one thing, I have no idea what I have to offer. I know that office technology has changed over the last 13 years. I don't feel as quick as I once was -- nor as energetic. 

What little confidence I once possessed has gone the way of my weekly paycheck, and it has spilled over into my relationships with others. I used to be my own woman. Now, I'm afraid to say boo without checking with my husband and daughter. 

I am looking into the future and I don't like it, and watching those old videos just reminds me of the person I used to be.

The Sad, Sad Conversation: In Sickness And in Health

I've found a new online addiction: The Sad, Sad Conversation - a series of  confessional YouTube videos featuring familiar actors, comedians and even a rock star (Jane Wiedlin of the Go-Go's) -- all speaking very honestly about their fears and malaise as they hit middle age.

Here's a sample, from actor Michael Ian Black:

The group - which is growing (it currently also includes Joshua Malina, Steve Agee, Martha Plimpton, Sarah Thyre, Steven Weber, Phil LaMarr and Morgan Murphy  is uploading these videos at a frenetic pace. There's close to 200 of these very short videos, most of them posted within the last two weeks.

Although all of these artists talk about the peculiar situation they find themselves in by growing older in a business obsessed by youth, I find it very relatable (and not only because I decided to quit that business when I reached my own unemployable zone in my late thirties). These are people who I would deem successful, yet they are grappling with many of the same issues that keep me up late at night: fears about money, their health, that their homes are falling apart, or that they are just mediocre talents (yes, that is something Wiedlin says about herself! Imagine that!)

It's comforting to know that I am not alone in obsessing about getting older -- an activity that intensifies whenever I find out that one of my friends is ill. This is news I receive with some frequency now.

They say that when you're young, you don't have a sense of your own mortality. If that's true, I guess I got old sooner than most people. For the first couple of decades after high school, I managed to keep in touch with a lot of my old friends.

Five of them died by the time I turned 40: one car accident, one cancer, one HIV and two were suicides.

Five years ago, my husband and I celebrated my 50th birthday with three other dear friends (and spouses) who were born the same year. A while back, one of those friends was suffering with what seemed like a debilitating bout of depression.

He had good reasons for it:  They had recently moved in with his elderly mother-in-law, who is no longer capable of caring for herself -- and then, his wife was stricken with a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer (a disease that had killed his sister).

That's a series of events that would kick anyone into a state of depression.

Eighteen months later, after surgeries, chemo and radiation, his wife's health has been restored, and in a perfect world, you would think this couple would now be able to look ahead to a brighter future.

But the world is far from perfect. In fact, it kind of sucks.

My friend's depression turned out to be a symptom of something way worse: Early onset Alzheimer's. And it's progressing.

Maria Shriver -- who recently lost her dad to Alzheimer's -- warns that as the baby boomers age, we are about to be hit with a tsunami of cases, and there's not enough being done to prepare. There's not enough research and not enough resources -- especially for people who have been diagnosed at such an early age (my friend is only 55 -- the same age as I). Women stand to be disproportionately affected, both as caretakers and sufferers of the disease.

Leeza Gibbons knows this well. Her new book, "Take Your Oxygen First," documents her family's experience caring for her mother and offers advice for families who are caring for loved ones suffering from memory loss.

I was given a copy of this book to review -- but to be perfectly honest, the subject matter frightens me so much that I have barely cracked it open. I know I need to get over this (especially as it is something I may have to face myself some day). But right now... I just can't.

What I can do is give the book to my friends, who may benefit from the advice and information within. 

Gibbons is also the co-founder of "Leeza's Place," a network of communities for Alzheimer's caregivers. Unfortunately for my friends, the local Leeza's Place is geared mostly to older users who are likely retired -- not women like my friend, who must work full time in addition to caring for both her mother and now her husband. 

As for my friend, the Alzheimer's patient: We've been trying to spend more time with him (trying to squeeze in as much as we can while he's still himself). He's still the person we've known for decades (so long that we think of him as a member of our family). But he's quieter... his short term memory is shot... and he is easily confused.

We all celebrated Memorial Day together at my sister's up north, and followed that up with an overnight in San Francisco, where we explored the awesome foodie treasures of the Ferry Building and enjoyed tapas at Thirsty Bear Brewing Company. It was a weekend to remember.

Especially when I start despairing about my own problems, which are trivial in comparison.

At least, I've got my health.

(H/T to Jen Creer for telling me about the Sad, Sad Conversation. I received no compensation for writing about Alzheimer's Disease or Leeza Gibbons' books and endeavors to help those who are dealing with it.)