Ham Fried Rice

BBC America’s You Are What You Eat intrigues me. The abrasive hostess Gillian McKeith is a holistic nutritionist who works with severely obese people, attempting to change their lifestyle and eating habits in eight short weeks. She actually accosts strangers at the grocery store, telling them they could lose a few “stone.” (I don’t always understand the British English terms. What exactly is a “stone,” in terms of weight? What’s the American English equivalent? If you know, please comment or email me. Otherwise I’ll have to wikipedia this.) The narration is quite funny. Here are a few sound bites:

• Lardie Laddie
• Whale of a Woman
• Dumpy Duo
• Sofa Loafers

And all this is just in one episode. I have to say that as harsh as it sounds, it’s really quite funny when spoken in a proper British accent.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the show is when Gillian forces her patients to examine their fecal matter. I know, it’s disgusting, and yet it’s quite fascinating. No, they don’t show the “poos,” but they hold them in a clear case and discuss the shape, size, make up or consistency and smell. BTW, I’m laughing my head off as I type this. (Told you I was a tomboy.) I can’t quite see an American show discussing the same material.

I enjoy Gillian’s no nonsense approach and telling it like it is. I also appreciate the fact that she’s trying to create a lifestyle change, changing long term behavior, as opposed to offering a short term fix. However, it’s no The Biggest Loser. Who these obese people really need is Jillian Michaels, with her hardcore workout regime and killer mantra: “Beatings, beatings, beatings.”

I recently created a mantra for myself, now posted on my refrigerator and bathroom mirror:

I will not allow others’ lameness affect my personal happiness.

Of course the word “lameness” is a slang term referring to anything negative, which includes but is not limited to:

• acts of unkindness
• rudeness
• inconsiderateness
• selfishness
• judgment
• baggage/issues
• gossip

It’s difficult to be a caring and considerate person in our current society because, frankly (Scarlett), most people just don’t give a damn. (Cue Gone With The Wind music.) I’m at a point in my life where I deserve to be happy and have a healthy sense of self-esteem and self-respect. I know I am a good person, but I find that I am sometimes hurt by others’ actions. I’ve realized lately that I can still be a kind and considerate person, but I don’t need to subject myself to the negativity of others. I will no longer give them power over me.

RICH

Definition: abundant

Synonym: abounding, ample, copious, costly, deluxe, elaborate, elegant, embellished, expensive, exquisite, extravagant, lavish, lush, luxurious, palatial, plenteous, plentiful, plush, posh, resplendent, swank, well-endowed

Antonym: poor

You never really know what you have until you see those around you who have even less than you. I think it’s especially true for those of us who reside here in America. Whilst watching American Idol’s Idol Gives Back special, I was treated to countless video montages of Hollywood celebrities traveling with their posse and cameras to Africa and poorer parts of the United States (in their private jets, no doubt…oh the irony.) They each did their best to convince Americans to donate “whatever you can.” Their pleas had conflicting effects on me:

Me, the Cynic: There is nothing worse than seeing a bunch of disgustingly wealthy people self-righteously parading around the world, asking the rest of us for our hard earned monies. How do they know that I don’t already donate 10% of my income to humanitarian aid and charitable causes? If these celebrities truly cared, why don’t they dig deeper into their own pockets and donate 1% (what’s that? a meager million or two?) of their earnings? Perhaps instead of shopping at Barney’s and paying thousands of dollars for a purse, perhaps instead of catering a post self-congratulatory awards show party, perhaps instead of flying off to luxurious resorts, they should consider donating “whatever they can” of their own dollars and help feed starving African children.

Me, the Humanist: Look at the white trash children in Kentucky. They don’t have any books, schooling opportunities or front teeth (ok, that’s Me, the Cynic, sorry.) Actually, I was very moved by an interview with one of the American children who said she wanted to grow up and become a teacher someday. I would love to support this child because she had a strong sense of purpose and desire to better her own life and help others. And, of course, I am always in tears by the end of the African montages. Life can be so unfair. Why was I born in America with a multitude of opportunities that I’ve received, when another Spirit was born to destitute poverty in a third world country? Sometimes it’s difficult to reconcile.

My five year-old returned from preschool one day telling me about a friend who had “tons and tons of Webkinz” and then came the self-pitying “and I only have one. Can you buy me another one? I want tons and tons of Webkinz.” I took a moment and explained to him that there are children in the world who don’t have food to eat, who don’t have a home to live in, and some don’t even have a mom or dad to love them. I realize poverty, humility, and gratitude are abstract concepts to teach a five year-old, but if I don’t start now, he may not care to understand when he’s older. He innocently replied, “Well, then we should give them some money and help them buy some food so they can eat.” If only it were so simple to conquer the world’s problems.

It’s hard for me to see the trials of my generation, with our lack of gratitude and humility. Forget about simple gratitude for basic necessities like food, potable water, shelter, or clothing. I don’t think many of my generation give much thought to their cars, jobs, or educational opportunities. There is a culture of entitlement and greed. You know you live in an affluent society when all women talk about are their favorite pair of “seven” jeans. 7 for all mankind. Hmmm… really? I didn’t know all mankind could afford $260 designer jeans.

As a teenager, I had the opportunity to live in China with my study abroad program many years ago. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I met a teenage boy who worked in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant by the student dormitories. He worked long hours and I asked him if he enjoyed it. He told me it was much better than his previous fourteen-hour day of laboring in the fields.

It gives you a little perspective on life.

I was reading the current Time article on legal process outsourcing (LPO) to India when I noticed the mention of Mumbai, “formerly Bombay.” I’m embarrassed to admit that I had no idea Bombay changed it’s name; apparently I have been living under a rock. I initially attributed this to my current profession of stay-at-home mom. I can sing you every opening song to a kid’s show, from Dora, Sesame Street, Spongebob (sung with great gusto!) to any Disney show, but I don’t really hear about current events during the day. However, as I wikipedia-ed the name change, I found:

The name was officially changed to its Marathi pronunciation of Mumbai in 1995.

1995! I didn’t become a mom until 2002. How utterly embarrassing for me. I used to pride myself on being geographically literate, but quite frankly, the world has changed so drastically that it’s difficult to keep up. Have you seen a map of the former USSR, Africa or the Middle East lately? It’s not the same geography I learned in school twenty or even ten years ago. Here’s to a new hobby for this stay-at-home mom: keeping up with current events and studying world geography.

Last week I sent my son with some oranges to the neighbors’ who live three doors down. As I stood by the door, unseen, watching him skip along the sidewalk, I noticed a minivan. White, black molding along the door, older mid-90’s model, rounded back like a Dodge Caravan. It caught my eye because most cars cruise our street between 30-45 mph and we are constantly complaining to the city. This vehicle, however, was going less than 15 mph. I noticed the driver, a heavy set man, turn his head and watch my son. My initial thought was, “Hmmm. That’s weird. Why is he watching my son?” I stepped down the stairs of my front porch and noticed the driver look back, see me, and casually drive up the street. The way he sensed me and drove off was chilling. He turned left at the sign, as though heading up towards the elementary school. Well, maybe he’s picking up one of his kids…it was around 3:50. Right when school gets out. I stood out there for another few minutes. As I waited for my son to skip back home, I saw this same minivan drive the opposite direction, headed out of the subdivision. There was no way he could have driven to school to pick up someone in less than 3 minutes. It may only be a hunch, or mother’s intuition, but I believe I saw a monster trolling our neighborhood for kids.

As I type this, I want to vomit. I am sickened by the evil, sickened with fear for the safety of my children. But I am going to take action. I have been notifying neighbors to keep alert and watch for unfamiliar vehicles. (We live clear in BFE. You don’t drive through our subdivision to get to a store.) I am going to call the police department and report it, though it may do nothing. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a license plate number. It happened within seconds and by the time I thought to look at his plate, he was up the street and gone. If any of my neighbors read this, please pass it along. We have to keep alert and stay vigilant. The world is a different place now compared to the time when we were young and carefree. Gone are the days where children can freely ride bikes or run around their neighborhoods, left unattended. There is a naiveté that exists in this bucolic little suburb, seemingly removed from the busy world. Children play outside, while parents watch from windows. Don’t think that it couldn’t happen to you in this neighborhood. Because it can, if you’re not watching. I shudder to think what could have happened if I wasn’t outside watching. It only took seconds. We must be wary, we must stay vigilant, for the sake of our children.

I’ve been thinking about this one for a bit. The forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a greater value or claim. I don’t think you really learn about the act of sacrifice until you become a parent. I remember when my father was in his 30s and he had to commute to work, 40 miles each way, on a daily basis. My parents scrimped and saved to purchase a reliable car, but my father decided to forgo the air conditioner. Now, in this day and age you may find it laughable to save a meager $1000 for such an important comfort, but 25 years ago $1000 was a hefty sum of money to a single income family with three small children. As children, my siblings and I always looked forward to my dad coming home from work. As soon as his car pulled in the driveway, we’d rush the front door and offer him hugs and kisses. In the summertime I noticed his hair was damp, his face flushed and sweaty. I didn’t understand why. Now as an adult, I realize that he drove over an hour in 100+ degree weather, sometimes at a snail’s pace, in rush hour traffic… without air conditioning in his car. The thought of my father’s act of sacrifice brings tears to my eyes.

We enrolled my painfully shy five year-old in karate. The cost per month is equivalent to that of a better car payment. But I know that he has learned to be more confident in himself and the socialization for him is priceless. So I continue to shuttle my three children in the back of a four-door sedan. It’s a little crowded. But it’s worth it.

You sacrifice out of love.

My five year-old’s current favorite joke:

Question: Why did the pig take karate lessons?

Answer: So he wouldn’t be turned into a pork CHOP!