Ok, this is fast becoming one of my new obsessions. How can people logically have anything against bandwagons? Trends? Movements? As I mentioned earlier, I wholeheartedly admit to being influenced by the world around me. What I fail to understand are people who really believe they aren’t (or who feel bad when they are).
This may come as a shock: You are not unique. Neither am I. I know, that’s not what we’ve been told. I’m not going to call our parents and teachers liars, exactly. The thing is, in the grand scheme of it all, that smidge of genetic code that makes each of us different from each other is so infinitesimally small that, well, in any other circumstance it would be rounded. We are people. That should be enough. But even if we roll with that tiny bit of difference that we like to hang on to so much, we are really only different in batches. Be they geographical, ethnic, cultural, intellectual, whatever, they are still groups. Then within those groups there are little subgroups based on how we enjoy spending our time. We choose from a cocktail of human activities what to do while we’re awake. It is within these subgroups that we assert our uniqueness, but really, we aren’t. If you are into gardening (I saw Michelle Obama sowing seeds with Elmo yesterday, so trust me, that’s mainstream) crafts, food, politics, travel, celebrities, parenting, the environment, anarchy, atheism, being smarter than everyone else, living off the grid; anything you can think of, someone else can, has, and there is a website about it. (FYI, I do not endorse any of said websites, I was just looking for examples... ok, some of them I read. But which ones?) Basically, if you hear someone shirking something because it’s “trendy” what they really mean is that it happens not to be a trend that interests them. I realized recently that my starting a blog is not only itself unoriginal, but puts me squarely in a specific category of the fastest growing group of bloggers: Mommy Bloggers. Yup, I jumped right on that one without realizing it. But here’s the thing, we are all out there being influenced by the same media and by each other. Is it any wonder that trends fly through fast and furious and pull us all aboard before we even recognize it? Especially nowadays when we are so connected that what the rest of the world is doing is literally in our pockets. (And the people who choose to distance themselves from media and technology? Well, that of course, is a trend too. It’s been around for a while, actually. Walden Pond is getting crowded.) So as people being influenced by each other constantly, where is this obsession for uniqueness coming from? It is a mythical proposition. Don’t get me wrong, I highly value transcendentalism. Even if this post doesn’t sound like I do. I am not a proponent of doing everything because the masses do. Going your own way is something I consider an ideal. I also greatly admire perseverance and personal achievement. However, the pursuit of distinguishing yourself from the masses for the sake of brandishing your uniqueness is to me a fruitless endeavor. Get in line. My brain got caught on this track yesterday as I was reading a very popular (because she’s fantastic) mommy blogger who had written a post about writing a book. She was a bit self-deprecating about it because everyone else is writing books. I fail to see the problem. It is a logical conclusion that someone who enjoys writing (hence the blog) would write a book. And as writing is one of the primary ways we communicate with each other, it is extremely logical that many of us would like it and therefore also want to write books. I would say the same thing about music, art, storytelling/acting, and scientific discovery. They seem to be intrinsic human pursuits. A little FYI about me: I’m a fan of Abraham Maslow. As such, his hierarchy of needs framework tends to influence how I see things. Think back to any kind of psych course you may have taken and his pyramid will ring a bell. On the bottom is meeting physiological needs and you move on up until you get to a point of “self-actualization”. It’s a beautiful model, I enjoy it immensely. Take a peek. If you look at our culture, the bulk of us have pretty much been able to move past the lower needs. We are fed, clothed and housed for the most part. So most of our society is hanging out in the love/belonging or self-esteem/respect of others area. As such, it is not surprising we are trying to distinguish ourselves. If we were hungry, we wouldn’t bother. And that is the point. Our country is swarming with people with a lot of time on their hands to think about their place in the world (hence the blogs). Now I find it wonderful when people choose to spend their time bettering themselves and the world around them with whatever gifts their smidge of genetic uniqueness has endowed upon them. But to be different for different’s sake (a losing battle statistically speaking) or famous for fame’s sake (ick) is just a sad commentary on human potential, if not a new one. Paradoxically, trying to be like everyone else is a real problem. There are herds of people out there suffering eating disorders and massive credit card debt because they fail to grasp the distinction. What I am saying is that it’s okay that we aren’t all completely separate unique beings, not that we should all try to be one mainstream ideal. I do not advocate following a pack. Rather, when you find yourself within a pack, be sure to make the most of the likeminded company. I blog, I throw pottery, I’m a mother, a knitter, a gardener, a nurse, a suburban housewife. None of these things make me unique, but within these pursuits and with the companionship of others, I am able to find meaning and purpose. The appearance of conformity is not equivalent to a deadening of the mind. Anyone saying otherwise probably just heard that from someone else. So why am I going on and on about this? It’s filling up my head. I needed a release. So it was either this or my disappointing pedometer experiences. I’ll save that topic for later. I suffered a disheartening blow when I did my gardening rounds this evening after getting home from visiting my MIL for Mother’s Day. (My own mother is currently celebrating her motherhood sans children in sunny California.) Anyway, my girls looked as though they perpetrated an escape attempt. After recently suffering the indignity of being tied to sticks, who could blame them?
That’s what it looked like, but I’m pretty sure I’m to blame. My peas were planted in window boxes perched precariously on the ledge of our deck railing. I think the afore mentioned sticks provided the necessary lift on this windy spring day to dump the boxes unceremoniously onto the lawn below. Luckily, I did not witness the carnage personally. The hubs was kind enough to rescue my damsels in distress from their heap and hoist their boxes back on the deck. He was not, however, kind enough to warn me. Unaware of what had transpired, I came upon my girls all twisted and mangled and was absolutely horrified. Their wrists still tied to the offending twigs, that are now broken as well, they looked as though they’d been attacked. On the grass below were puddles of spilt potting soil staining the scene just as surely as pools of blood. Ok, not really, but it was upsetting. Were I premenstrual right now, I probably would have cried. I can’t believe how attached I’ve gotten to these things. Silverpixels warned me I would be vested and she was right. I, who have made fun of people who spend ridiculous amounts of money on their ailing pets, got all distraught over some disheveled plants. Oh boy, gardening might prove too emotional for me yet. I don’t know if the girls will recover this insult. Most of the gardening books indicate peas do not tolerate transplanting well and this was surely a similar, if not worse, shock to their systems. I have lots more peas planted throughout my gardens but these were special. They were my one success story while everything else was failing. I’m sorry little darlings. You have become yet another tale of how fragile life can be; especially at the mercy of an inexperienced gardener. Turns out this freebie pedometer isn’t working out so well. You get what you pay for, I guess. No offense to Select Medical Rehab. Inc. but it is just too easy to reset. As in, I’ve reset the darned thing 4 times today. A couple of times were accidental, but my toddler is fascinated with it so the other times were premeditated.
My initial reaction, after irritation, was to go out and buy one with a cover. I even looked at them. There was one at Target for $14.95 with a cover and a strap. It even has “10,000 STEPS PER DAY” printed on it. See? It pays to jump on bandwagons after they are in full swing. The accessories are so much easier to acquire. I didn’t even know it was a bandwagon until I Googled it. But of course, this is the information age. There isn’t a thing out there that doesn’t have an obsessive following. No, really. If you can think it, there is already someone out there blogging about it, I assure you. The reason I did not purchase said pedometer is because I’ve started a 'no new stuff' campaign here at the Shuker homestead. I’m sure I’m not alone on that one either. Actually the goal is to hand-make things or buy things handmade from others. (A little clarification lest you think I'm asking more of my customers than I myself am willing to buy.) But that is for another post... If you add up all the steps I took before the resets I am up to about 9,500 as of right now. You know, sitting here. A lesser person would round up, theorizing I probably lost about 500 steps in the resets. But as I am trying to become a different kind of lesser person, that would do me no good. I’ll make it. Day #1 is in the bag. It should be no surprise that regular old life was not enough to get me there. If it were, I wouldn’t have a weight problem in the first place. I went for a 40 minute walk this afternoon which netted me a good 5,000 steps. At this point I can pretty much surmise that regular life activity plus a 40 minute walk everyday will keep me healthy. Actually, I would have been able to come up with that before the pedometer use; which is the point. Weight loss is not about figuring out how to lose weight. As my girlfriends and I agreed, in the very conversation that prompted me to wear a pedometer, you’d be hard pressed to find a fat person out there who couldn’t tell you exactly how to take off pounds. The true crux of the problem is finding motivation. Any problem, really. So if wearing a little semi-functional step counter will help my brain comprehend the value of a daily constitutional, so be it. Whatever works, I say. I am not a thin person. Quite the opposite, actually. And we fat people tend to like to talk about weight loss the way thin people like to talk about fashion. If fat people are talking about fashion it is usually to gripe about how there isn't any for fat people.
Anyway, I was lamenting about my fatness with some girlfriends recently and one offered up her mom's advice that 10,000 steps a day is the key for weight management. This 'steps' goal appeals to me for two reasons. But first let me give you a little history. I have had two periods of less fat in my adult life. For the record, I have never been thin. At birth I weighed almost 9 lbs. and it has pretty much been uphill ever since. When I talk about previous weight loss success, I’m referring to periods when I was able to move from being morbidly obese to just plain obese. At my thinnest, I’m simply overweight. The first slimming down happened in my senior year of college when I was walking from my apartment to campus at least once a day. It was about a mile or two each way and it was very hilly. With graduation came new living arrangements and the weight came back. The second time I lost a bunch of weight was when I was working in sales and went to the gym every day as an escape from making sales calls. I was also low carbing it at the time. When I left that job for a commuter cube job, the weight came back again. Now my recent obsession with living ‘real life’ precludes me from going to the gym. The idea of going into a building to get on a machine so I can walk for an hour and not go anywhere just doesn’t appeal. I am not a hamster. I don’t think exercise should be so artificial. I want to accomplish something with my time or at the very least be out in the world. Plus gyms are humid and stinky. The 10,000 steps for me is perfect because 1. I’ve lost weight in the past by walking and 2. I can incorporate it into my life by just moving more. Now I, like many perpetually fat people, tend to overestimate my activity and underestimate my food consumption. Vaguely increasing my activity isn’t likely to net me any results. I need the numbers. Once I spent two years graphing my weight every day to keep track of my progress. There was no progress. Then I got pregnant. This is where the pedometer comes in. I wasn’t about to go out and buy one as they are always being given away. Proving my point curiously soon, there was a rep handing them out at work the very next day. That was Monday. I didn’t try the thing out until today because I didn’t want to take the time to figure out how to use it. Turns out, taking it out of the box was all the training I needed. On my maiden voyage, I decided to work a little extra around the house to really pump up the numbers. I spent the morning weeding the garden then decluttering the kids’ art area. I was on the move, to the tune of a whopping 3,000 steps midday. Was that it? Yup. My big ‘incorporate activity into my regular life’ push netted me less than a third of my goal for the day. Once again, proof there is no mystery to fatness. Unfortunately, I accidentally reset the thing while putting my phone in my pocket at the grocery store. Since I was having a weak moment and bought a Twix bar, I’m not sure the rest of the day’s numbers are really relevant anyway. Regardless, even with the obvious setbacks of my first day, I’m on a new mission. My goal: to be down to just overweight by the end of the summer. My two pronged approach is to eat real food (à la Michael Pollan’s advice) and reach 10,000 steps/day. Wish me luck. |
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