Comfort Food
This documentary was waiting for me in a pretty red Netflix envelope when I got home this evening.
I eat pretty healthy, although not as healthy as I could (or even used to), and because I've been feeling a little lethargic, I'm making some changes to eat more healthy again. It was a happy coincidence that Netflix delivered this today (remember that there are so many movies in my queue that I've forgotten what I even put in there and when). It's a documentary about plant-based (or vegan) eating, and though I'm not ready to give up animal products altogether, I am pretty intrigued. The research presented in it is pretty staggering, and it's embedded in a variety of personal stories, including the stories of a number of the scientists and doctors doing some of that research.
In addition to giving me some ideas about incorporating more "plants" into my meals, it also made me think a lot about the fact that I do enjoy eating healthy. Don't get me wrong -- I also enjoy going to Cold Stone Creamery every week or so. But I do like healthy food, not only for the way it makes me feel, but for the way a lot of it tastes.
And that got me to thinking that a lot of that is probably because of my mom.
Mom, with my nieces, Alyssa and Abbey
With regard to the way she fed us, I think she was a woman ahead of her time. When we were little, there were no sugary cereals in our house (which led to my picking some of my friends based on the fact that they had sugary cereals we could eat when I stayed over...!). We rarely had processed lunch meat, as ours had to come from the actual deli, and we had mostly wheat and other dark breads. We did get to eat dessert, but that and unhealthy snacks were kept to a minimum. At dinner, there were always at least two vegetables on the table, and we had to eat a serving of at least one. We were rarely allowed to drink soda, and that was mostly when we went out, and potato chips? Didn't get those in our sack lunches (yes, I could be found trading chips for things in my lunch while at school. A girl's gotta live a little.).
And once I got to thinking about that, I also realized I learned a lot from Mom about the importance of fitness. For as long as I can remember, she has done some type of workout. She was a flight attendant for a brief time before she and Dad got married -- she flew for the now defunct Eastern Airlines from her home state of New Jersey -- and, perhaps through that training, she came across this book, and used it for daily workouts for years. My goodness, googling that image brought back memories of it on her bedstand...way cool!
She's in her 70s now (don't tell her I told you her age, but I am completely awed by how great she looks), and she's STILL fit...she walks, does a step routine, jumps on a little trampoline. And boy, could she and my dad dance! In Tahoe last weekend, I saw a sign for an upcoming "Big Bad Voodoo Daddy" concert, and told Bob that Mom and Dad used to go see them, and that they loved swing. I can remember watching them at many Memorial Hall dances. I was always amazed at their moves.
I feel very lucky to have such a healthy, fitness-oriented mom, and know that her being so had a wonderful impact on me, as I love that part of myself.
Thanks, Mom!
It appears I might have even got my
"Biker Chick"
tendencies from my mom
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