Stress and Fat

I have done a bit more research. It turns out that if you are under mild to moderate stress (like who isn't?), your body is more likely to hold onto excess fat because it thinks it might need it. Again, lay down some lard in the cellar because hard times are imminent. I'm in a state of at least moderate stress even while I'm asleep, so I guess I can kiss that sleep-off-the-fat theory goodbye. At least there is comfort in knowing that my body is only trying to protect me from possible starvation. That's a kind thought.

Fat and Sleep

On NPR a few minutes ago they reported on recent findings that link lack of sleep in new mothers to weight gain, or at least fat storage. I'll have to check up on this and see if there is any way, any even remote way that this might apply to those of us who have had our children over eight years ago. Though they didn't go into great detail, they said that new mothers who want to lose the weight they gained during pregnancy should make sure to get enough sleep. Sleep deprivation causes the body to go into a sort of stress-related conservation mode. Kind of like saying, "Hey - things are looking a bit rough around here. Better batten down the hatches and lay down some lard in the cellar in case we get snowed in!"

My take on this scenario is that all I have to do is sleep more to lose these stubborn pounds. Just the thought of this new regime is starting to release endorphins - I can feel it! I'm off to catch some Z's and lose a few pounds before Thanksgiving.

Two Sides, But Only One Response

So I have this friend with a pretty rough marriage. They are both friends of mine, husband and wife, even before they were wed. I run into the husband at work and he confides in me every so often. We go way back, to our college days. He tells me what his wife has said or done, how frustrated he is with her about this or that. I listen, nod, try not to judge. Later I run into the wife at the grocery store. We go way back, to our college days. She confides in me and tells me things aren't going so well at home. She tells me how disappointed she is; she tells me what her husband has said or done, or not done. I listen and nod and commiserate appropriately, but don't say too much.
A few days later, I run into a friend of the husband in the library. We talk of our mutual friend, and he mentions their troubles. He says he can't believe how the wife can act like that, how she can say those things. He thinks the wife is sick, or evil.
Later that same week, I run into an old friend of the wife, the maid of honor from their wedding. We talk of our mutual friends, this couple, and how things aren't going so well for them lately. She comments on the husband, how he could do all those things he did; how he could act the way he does and not even care. It is so sad, we both agree.
There are two sides, or probably many more, to every story. Is she mad? Is he unfaithful? Did she say that, unprovoked? Did he mean that? Is one of them more wrong than the other? Does Christ love either of them less?
I think she is mad, at her wit's end, stretched to the limit. She does tend to run over at the mouth and she says what's on her mind, even when she shouldn't. And he was unfaithful, and unthoughtful, and even irresponsible. Frankly, they're both sort of jerks, now that I think about it. But then again, who isn't? Does Christ love jerks? Or does he just love American soldiers?
The part that hurts is when outsiders think they have someone else all figured out, all critiqued and packaged off for hell, or heaven. Did the husband ever step back and take a look at himself and just say, "Hey, I can be a real asshole." Do you think the wife ever says to herself, "I should just shut up." Does Christ ever back off and take a good hard look at us and say, "I just don't feel like loving you anymore. You don't get it. I'm tired of trying to get through to you. You're on your own from now on."

Tropical Leaf

One of my favorite subjects, leaves . . . this one again in the tropical dome, taken from underneath with a rather shallow depth of field. I have always loved the color green.

And Now For the Debits of Tea Drinking . . .

I have been reading so much lately on the benefits of drinking tea - black tea, green tea, white tea, Pu-erh, Oolong, Sencha . . . but I came up against a debit today while trying to do my semi-regular platelet donation at the Blood Center. They always check your iron levels before they allow you to donate, and since I am almost exclusively donating platelets now instead of whole blood, my iron levels have been great. Back when I was donating whole blood every eight or more weeks (and back when I also had a uterus, I must add), I would sometimes fail the hematocrit level test. You have to have a hematocrit level of at least 38% to be able to donate on any given day. Sometimes I would go as low as maybe 35, 36 . . . 34? These days I am usually in the low 40s. Today I bottomed out at 30 and had to reschedule my donation - not for a week later, but two weeks later. They didn't think one week would be enough time to raise my iron levels to an acceptable place. The first thing they asked was if I had recently made any dietary changes. I thought for a moment and then said I had just started to seriously drink tea over the past couple of weeks.
"Ah-ha!" Both of the blood workers I was speaking with nodded their heads as if that explained it all. Today I learned that the tannins in tea prohibit the absorption of iron and protein into your body. It is recommended that you put milk in your tea, because milk binds to the tannins. Alternatively, drink Rooibos, or red tea from South Africa, which does not contain tannins or caffeine.
So, while just beginning to enjoy my "new" tea habit, I find that I may have to moderate my intake or just drink more Rooibos. I think I'll try the red over the next two weeks and see if I still pass my hematocrit in two weeks.

New Lens

This shot of our miniature schnauzer, Buddy, on our son's lap was taken with my new lens, a Sigma 18-200mm zoom with image stabilization. The only light was from my desk lamp and possibly some reflection off the small television screen above the dog. No flash. No tripod. I leaned against my dresser and just held as steady as I could for this 1.6 second exposure. Pretty. Darn. Cool.