The Unconscious Consumer

I watched about five minutes of "Oprah" this morning. That was all I could take before whacking the tube with a pillow or worse.
Her guests, a family of five, habitually kept the heat at 82 degrees, spent $200 a crack on groceries mostly consisting of junk food and threw half of it out, left the computer and tv on whether anyone was watching it or not. More disturbing was the daughter who deliberately damaged the tv in her room because she wanted a new one and Daddy wouldn't buy it for her. Mom spent a lot of time on line shopping. The kids refused to eat her cooking, prefering fast food.
The family had conscented to participate in an experiment: for one week, with cameras going, they would keep the heat at 70, not eat out, and limit tv to an hour a day and computer use to schoolwork. Mom was browsing on line, the heat was repetedly reset to 82, and the tv was left on when one of the daughters nodded off.
That prompted me to turn off the show. Now, don't get me wrong. I hope that someday the parties in the financial industry who contributed to creating an economy that supports their draconian treatment of consumers (we've all had the switch-a-roo on payment dates and subsequent late fees) get brought to justice someday, whether in the legal system of getting reincarnated as roaches (apologies for insulting roaches). We also need to look at this economic climate as a springboard for making new, or in some cases, returning to older, choices. We need to do this not just for ourselves, but for the future.

Housecleaning

It's the last day of a veg and protein detox for me.
Simply, it was time. A family crisis brought on stress that triggered off a flairup of a couple of chronic issues and stress eating. I made some questionable choices when it came to food. Last week the time came to recalibrate my tastebuds. Soon I'll be able to enjoy my daily square of dark chocolate without a coating of nut butter.
I do not look for airhorns, or confetti, or some parade to congratulate me. The ability to taste the subtleties of healthy foods again is celebration enough.

The Need to Act in Your Own Best Interest

About two weeks ago, I quit a women's health issue forum. The site advocates completely a completely natural approach to issues peculiar to ladies at the Certain Age mark. While I applaud and respect the good and wise women who run it, I didn't appreciate being told to try a combination of herbs for my own particular set of issues that had stopped working a long time ago. I weighed the risks of doing nothing, working with the herbs again, of using bioidentical hormones derived from yams and soy. I chose the third option. My posting of my decision in the forum drew accusations of trying to postpone the inevitable, of preventing myself from growing into wholeness, and a report detailing risks and questioning the efficacy of the treatment.
Hmm. With the creme, slight risk of intensified issues when I go off it; slight risk of reproductive cancers. Without it, losing whole days weeping uncontrolably; feeling spacy to the point where I was a danger to myself and others while driving. It's kind of hard to let your growth processes do what they must if you're dead or in jail.
I glanced at the report. I thought of a friend who'd passed on last fall. I don't know what, if anything, she'd used during her menopausal transition. Her choice didn't prevent the cancer from rooting in her uterus and eventually going into her brain.
I thought of another friend who'd hit the wall with herbs, experiencing hot flashes that parlayed into panic attacks. She went on very low doses and now gets through her days without haveing to change clothes several times because she's sweat through them. No sign of anything except vibrant health from her.
Holding those thought in mind, I deleted the report and kept going forward.

Like Junior High, Only More So

I didn't bother with the Oscars this last Sunday night.
OK, you caught me. I watched a little of the entrance on the red carpet in the event of a fashion disaster, but nothing stood out. One bit of trivia from the commontators caught my attention: there are two lanes for traffic on the red carpet. One is for the writers, directors, composers and so on not considered A-list. They get trundled into the theater at a quick pace. That way, the A-listers get their photos snapped without the risk of commoners contaminating the glamor.
Why do we support these people? I wondered to myself. As much as I would love to say that I have disengaged the buttons about popularity and prettiness installed during my overweight (thanks to much later diagnosed adrenal and thyroid issues), awkward adolescense, my inner thirteen year old cringed. Why do we give money to an industry that has developed ridiculous standards of beauty and wealth? It would be cheaper to hire a dominatrix to abuse us for an hour or so at a time rather than deal with the in your faceness of it all in mainstream media.
Some years ago, I found out that I wasn't the only one who felt this way. In a writer's group that I used to belong to, I met a survivor of the Hollywood scene. Over post-meeting coffee one night, he was asked what working out there was like. "Oh, my god; it's like junior high, only more so," he said, rolling his eyes.
Aha. It wasn't just me. I mulled this as The Spouse and I spent the evening watching a detective film from Sweden.
In the morning, we flipped on the news to see the results. "Slumdog Millionaire's" welcomed but anticlimactic victory for best picture warmed my heart, as did "Juno" winning best screenplay last year. Maybe the Academy will take the hint and start making pictures that will help us all grow up.