Saturday 31 May 2014

Tea with a friend

I had the loveliest experience today. A friend of mine invited me for tea on the rooftop of her apartment building. She had just finished deep cleaning the suite where she and her boyfriend had been living. Their sublease was up; her suitcases -- one big and one small -- were packed and ready to go, and our tea was the last act before the curtain would fall and she would vanish into a taxi en route to a holiday in France.

So there were we at five in the afternoon, in a beautiful, old apartment, warm with the light of the late-afternoon sun. The walls were hung with canvases from artists new to me, and there was a bookcase devoted to music and another which was home to the kind of tomes that warm my heart: books about food by some of the most passionate and prolific writerly palates of today and yesteryear.

Mlle. Montmartre had scrubbed and tidied the place until it was as neat as it must ever have been, and she had only the fridge to empty and the bedclothes to bring up from the laundry before she could leave. Yet she was apologizing for being disorganized and inconveniencing me. I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head and assure her that she was doing no such thing.

Would I like the leftovers from the fridge, she wanted to know. Of course I would! There were blueberries and strawberries, olives and five different kinds of cheeses, an untouched pat of butter, garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts, an enormous jar of Dijon mustard, nearly a full bar of the best dark chocolate, a few pieces of ginger root, and other goodies besides. Heaven!

We managed to fill four bags with leftovers. These delicious spoils were topped off with a small collection French and English paperback novels. Then Mlle. Montmartre and I headed upstairs to the rooftop to enjoy a mug of tea in the sun. We chattered away, happy as two birds, with the West End below us and boxes of lavender and summer flowers for company.

Some people are so full of life and joy that they can't help but transmit it to those around them. Mlle. Montmartre is like that. She's as bright and sparkling as champagne. She fizzes and pops and lends charm and excitement to her surroundings. She carries a little bit of her native France with her, and spending time with her makes you feel like you've wandered into a corner of Paris.

A scant hour later, Mlle. Montmartre ran downstairs to pick up the bedclothes, still nice and warm from the dryer, and we made up the bed in record time before locking up the apartment for good and delivering the keys to the next-door neighbour. A taxi was called, and we found ourselves outside, me with my four big bags of groceries, and Mlle. Montmartre with her luggage. She insisted that I hop into the taxi with her so that I wouldn't need to carry my spoils home, and dropped me off safely in front of my building, laden down with good food and buoyed by the fun we'd have together and the plans we'd come up with for the summer.

Good friends are delightful.

Saturday 17 May 2014

Cleaning out your dreams closet, continued

I wasn't sure at first.

Both directors had been frank, knowledgeable, and kind. Yet my intuition was telling me in no uncertain terms that the plans I'd been incubating so carefully over the last seven years were not ones I'd be well advised to pursue.

It was a few days before I recovered enough to dig deeper. I still wanted to become a counsellor, and it was painful to admit that I might be on the way to giving up my dream. When at last I did face up to reality, I had to admit that I hadn't connected with the director of the counselling psychology program. In fact, we'd been at several wavelengths' remove. The longer we spoke, the more certain I became that my values were on a direct crash course with the school's social-justice bent. Although I wanted to help people who needed it, I was more interested in coaching than advocating for social and political change.

The outgoing director of the organizational psychology program was a different story altogether. I appreciated her warmth, business-like demeanor, and quick wit. She was clear on the relative merits and disadvantages of her program and she was funny. Not only that, but she was well dressed and well groomed. All this felt strangely familiar. Where had I met people like her before, I wondered. Oh, right -- as in right in front of me. In fundraising.

At this point in my analysis, a wise little voice from somewhere deep inside me piped up: "Forget a degree in psychology. You don't need to go there. Fundraising has everything you want already, including psychology, and it won't cost you tens of thousands of dollars to get started. You're already well on your way."

I had to agree with the WLV. I *do* like fundraising. I really like it. It's just that the grass had seemed greener on the psychology side of the fence. Consequently, I'd spent so much time gazing over the fence boards that I hadn't seen the meadow lushifying around me.

Here's the part where you might benefit from my experience. I had to do more than daydream about counselling to come to this conclusion. I had to take a good, hard look at what it was going to take to turn my counselling and coaching dream into reality. It wasn't only the chats at my school of choice that had done it. It was learning how difficult it is to start a private practice in Vancouver, how saturated the market already is, and how much effort it was going to take to get where I wanted to go. The exercise helped me to become clear about what I really wanted.

So if you've got one or two dreams in your closet that you haven't tried on for size recently, please do. Don't postpone the moment of truth indefinitely. The odds are, it will either fit you, which is what you wanted in the first place, or it won't, and you'll be able to fold it up carefully, perhaps with a sentimental sigh, then more cheerfully make way for one that does.



Wednesday 30 April 2014

Cleaning out your dreams closet

Dreams are wonderful things. They inspire us, nourish us, propel us forward to new accomplishments, and often make us better. We humans are truly blessed to have them. We can also outgrow them. Sometimes, dreams need replacing, a little like clothing that has served so well we've finally worn it out or which, after years of service, doesn't suit our age and stage.

This happened to me a few weeks ago, when I laid a cherished dream to rest. As you will discover if you read on, however, I feel freer and happier now. I thought I would share the story with you in case you have a similarly outdated dream hanging in your closet.


The catalyst for this retirement was a conversation with a friend (somewhat influenced by The Big Bang Theory episode in which Penny proposes to Leonard.:)) We were talking about my aspirations so she could help me to make some important decisions. I told her what I'd been dreaming of for the last seven years, ever since I'd moved from Montreal to Vancouver. In brief, I wanted to turn my passion for mental and physical well-being into a career and, eventually, into my own business. I'd mulled over what this might look like and investigated a number of pathways, from nutritionist/personal trainer/yoga instructor to HR specialist to psychologist before settling on a combination of counsellor and life coach.

To make a long story short, we realized that I had two options: I could either keep dreaming and getting more frustrated with my life or I could act. Time has a way of speeding by, and if I didn't do something now, I wasn't likely to get around to it until it was too late.

Back at home, I proceeded to find out what it would take in terms of time, schooling and experience to go from apprentice fundraiser to counsellor/life coach. The answer: a handful of prerequisites ($2,700), two years' worth of full-time studies ($50,000), living costs ($36,000), and the courage to re-enter the work force at the bottom of the food chain. The price tag wasn't trivial, and there would be a certain amount of risk involved, but I thought I could handle it.

It took two info sessions, much web surfing and a handful of interviews with practicing counsellors before I'd narrowed down the contenders a single school. There was just one fly in the ointment. The institution in question has a strong social-justice bent, and I didn't think I shared its views entirely. As a final precaution, I made appointments to speak with two program directors -- one for each of the master's of psychology degrees I was interested in.

On a beautiful, slightly chilly spring morning, an expectant Ms. Slim found herself in the waiting room of her future alma mater. Exactly two meetings and two-and-a-half hours later, she stepped into the sunlight dazed and confused.

I'd gone in expecting to rubber stamp my plans for the future. I'd come out -- turned around. What had happened?

**Stay with me for the next post. I'm further from the finish line than I expected, and I don't want to foist a mammoth entry on you.**

Thursday 10 April 2014

How to go out (or party in) without overindulging

In my last post, I promised I'd share some of my triggers for eating too much at (and after) parties and, more importantly, the solutions I've come up with for avoiding this kind of social splurging. Here they are! See if anything rings true for you: perhaps you can use my coping strategies, too.


Trigger 1: Post-party cleanup. Often, after I close my apartment door behind the last guest and survey my apartment, I realize that I have a dispiriting amount of cleanup to do -- dispiriting at midnight on a Saturday night, at any rate, when thoughts of a comfy duvet-covered bed dance in my head. When this realization hits, it seems only logical that I should put off the inevitable by eating some of the delicious leftovers. This is a perfect procrastination mechanism, easily accomplished while standing in the kitchen halfheartedly tidying, and it makes the clean-up seem more palatable. The only problem is, by this point, I don't need anything more to eat or drink.

Solution: My guests are some of the nicest people around. Most of the time, at least one person offers to help me do the dishes before heading home. So, the next time I'm asked if I'd like help cleaning up, I'm going to say yes! Trust me, there's much less temptation to help yourself to another two slices of cake or five servings of cheese if you have witnesses.:) And cleaning up is easier and nicer with company.

Trigger 2: Tiredness. Late at night, after I've just come in from an evening out, my body seems to think food is an important part of my bed-time routine. "You need to relax before you get ready for bed," a persuasive voice purrs in my ear. "Think how tired and unmotivated you feel, and what a nice diversion it will make to eat something tasty! Just one little snack and then you'll be ready to wind down." Suffice it to say that the persuasive voice often wins me over, and my "one little snack" has a tendency to morph into an apres-dinner dinner which I heartily regret the next morning.

Solution: I make it as easy as possible to go to bed. If this means leaving clothes hanging on chairs instead of in the closet or going to sleep without flossing, so be it. And I firmly tell that persuasive voice how much I'd rather dream than eat, especially since breakfast is just a sleep away.:)


Trigger 3: Hunger. Whether I'm throwing or going to a party, when I get that oh-am-I-ever-hungry
feeling before the bash gets underway, I tend to overindulge. Eating with abandon seems like a good idea at the time, and it's rather fun if parties are few and far between, but it's an absolute killer if it happens too often in a short time frame.

Solution: When I'm decently nourished from the get-go, I rarely splurge.  Thus, if I haven't eaten for a few hours and am heading out or getting ready for a dinner party at home, I often have a snack -- preferably one that contains a bit of protein, a bit of carbohydrate and a bit of fat. Some of my favourite and most reliable combos are:
  • lightly salted, roasted soya nuts
  • 1/2C to 1 C of plain  yogourt (any kind that's creamy and yummy) and a few nuts
  • 1 C steamed green and wax beans and baby (seasoned with a dash of sweet rice vinegar), a slice or two of avocado and a boiled egg
  • a slice of extra-firm tofu, half a piece of fruit and a few nuts
You'd be surprised at how effective the pre-party snack can be. It makes a real difference for me, and I bet it will for you, too.

Trigger 4: Alcohol. Celebration and alcohol go hand in hand. Trouble is, even a single mixed drink or one glass of wine makes it harder for me to keep to my eat-(and-drink)-carefully-at-parties resolution, and I hate to disappoint my friends and family by teetotaling the night away. So, what's a good-natured, wine-appreciating gal to do?

Solution: Whenever possible, I take my drink with food and, should my host prove especially hospitable and quick to refill my glass, I usually have a glass of water going at the same time. This is especially important because I haven't yet trained myself to sip my drink in a ladylike fashion. The double-fisting technique slows down my rate of (alcohol) imbibement and pretty well nixes the threat of regrets the next morning.

Sunday 6 April 2014

I ate too much at a party -- again. What can I do about it?

I'm typing this post the morning after a dinner party with two of my closest girlfriends. As you might imagine, we had a great time together. Today, however, I'm suffering the consequences of feasting like a half-starved medieval peasant. And believe me, I was not half-starved, nor do I look it. Thank goodness foodie souls of self control like Mireille Giuliano -- the wise and witty woman behind French Women Don't Get Fat -- can't hear me or see me now!

Slight hangover? Tick. Overeater's remorse? Tick. In whose world is it okay to treat food, my mental disciplinarian asks me severely, as if it were a cure-all? What am I doing eating with abandon whenever the social opportunity arises? Is it not possible for me to host or attend dinner parties without spending the next 48 hours in purgatory, followed by a week of flawless behaviour to erase the effects of my rampage? (This math doesn't work anymore, by the way, since I have the great good luck to be eating with friends and family more often than once a week.)

So I made a muck of things last night. What can I do about? And if you've got the same problem, what can you do about it?

Admit that you ate more than you wanted to, then move on. You've just eaten enough to feed a sumo wrestler? It may not be easy, but you need to let go of it. Sure, it wasn't a great decision, and it moved you away from your goal of health and well-being, but it's not the end of the world. It's in the past now, and no matter how long and hard you beat yourself up for it, you won't be able to time travel back to change it. Not anytime soon, anyway. But you have the present with and the future ahead of you, and you can make better decisions starting now.

Try again, right away. And be kind to yourself. Instead of slouching through the day wrapped in a blanket of self-pity or stomping about your business with a storm cloud over your head, treat yourself and your near and dear ones with love. Eat a healthy breakfast. Get to that yoga class, or go for a walk or a run. At work, focus on moving your team's project ahead, not what you didn't do right last night.

Get to know your triggers, then come up with strategies for avoiding them in the future. (Caveat: You may need to come back to this step over and over again until you fill your tool kit with tricks that work.) Here are a few of my triggers:
  • Post-party cleanup
  • Tiredness
  • Hunger
  • Alcohol
In my next post, I'll share some of the strategies that work for me.

Friday 21 March 2014

Beating (not eating away) the blues


When I wake up with a severe attack of the blues, as I did this morning (see preceding post for details), the teenaged part of my brain tells me that food, preferably a succession of flavorful cheese, dark chocolate, buttery pastry, decadent ice cream and my beloved pumpkin-seed butter, is the answer to my woes. Sometimes, I temporarily smother my sorrows in delicious forkfuls of sugar and fat. However, I'm getting better at acknowledging the hurt and finding constructive (read: non-culinary) ways to handle it.

All kinds of people have written and spoken about their strategies for defeating the blues. While not pretending to be in any wise wise, I thought I'd share mine with you in hopes they'll help you to short-circuit the urge to eat your troubles away.

Strategy 1: Lift your spirits.

Get to work.
... getting out of the car is a good idea, too;)
What tasks make you feel accomplished? Washing the car? Doing the laundry? Taking your dog for a walk? Paying the bills? Find one or two pat-yourself-on-the-back chores and get to work. I guarantee you'll feel at least a little better once you tick them off your to-do list.

Get moving and grooving.
Will music make you merry or soothe your soul? Would a walk or a bike ride bump up your endorphins? Remind yourself of the simple pleasures that give you joy and get you moving, then choose one and go!

Get inspired.
Whom do you admire? What makes you want to be your best self? If you're facing pain or disappointment, it can help to hear how someone you admire overcame hardship; if you're spiritually drained, beauty and encouragement can refresh you. This is a good time to read poetry that makes your spirit soar, go for a hike in a gorgeous park or watch a documentary describing a cause you care about.

Go social.
Last but not least, salve your spirits in pleasant society. Catch up with family or friends, run errands, go to choir practice, book club, bible study, exercise class. It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you socialize with people whose company you enjoy.

Tickle your funny bone. (Yes, you still have one.)
This works for me, and it might lift your spirits, too. Watch a comedy, read something light, or catch up on your favourite cartoon. Today, I came across Hyperbole and a Half, a comic blog which had me in stitches.

Strategy 2: Define the problem; find the solution.

Another good way to overcome the blues is to acknowledge them and trace them to their source. Journalling is one of my favourite tactics for this because it lets me acknowledge the nasty sentiments that rush out of the dark recesses of my mind when the going gets tough. Plus, I can do it without making a fuss. (Talking to friends and family is a good way to sort this out, too, especially if you can be calm and factual about your troubles.)

This morning, for example, I took one look at myself in the mirror and decided I was a failure. My pixie cut wasn't as cute as I thought it ought to be; I'd gained five pounds in under a month; I was thirty-four and single with no partner or children; I couldn't see any prospect of a promotion in the near future; I wasn't living up to the potential I'd shown in my early twenties; my sink was full of dirty dishes. My life, I told myself, might as well be over. After moping about for longer than I care to admit, I pulled out  my trusty old journal and started to write.

Describing why I felt like a failure turned out to be just the medicine I needed. Once I could see my thoughts on paper, I realized how small and silly most of my problems were -- and if not small or silly, then manageable. There were obvious solutions to each one, to wit:
  • Pixie cut: Ask my stylist to cut my hair a little differently next time.
  • Five pounds of unwanted ballast: Relax. It's not that big of a deal. Eat more veggies and less starch and fat for the next few weeks.
  • No other half: Get out and meet people. Lesbians, specifically.:)
  • Career: Be patient and diligent. I'm planning to switch from fundraising to counselling, and I have two information sessions and one informational interview booked next week.
  • Lacklustre performance: Let it go. I don't need to be the brightest star in the firmament, provided I'm contributing. Appreciate my gifts and trust that I'll shine again when the time is right.
  • Dirty dishes: I washed them. Problem solved.:)
Feeling blue? Give journalling a try. The result is ten time more satisfying than the aftermath of an unnecessary snack, and there's a good chance you'll find you already know some of the answers to your problems. 


Listen to the blues: they might be telling you something important

It's spring in Vancouver: the sun's come out, and with it, the cherry blossoms. Funnily enough, spring's also brought me the blues, and I've been coping by sticking my nose between the covers of a book most days after work, and pulling my nice, warm duvet around me to keep out the cold. Naturally, coping has also meant larger meals and a sudden uptick in dark chocolate consumption...

A confession: I'm thirty-four years young and I'm experiencing a mini mid-life crisis. Rather interestingly for a lesbian who shies away from dating, I've recently decided I ought to be married with children. At times like this, I'd give so much to be a different version of me: a straight housewife with a nice husband and three lovely children -- say ages 8, 6 and 4. Of course, I'm not. Nor am I my outgoing, high-achieving alter ego, the one who speaks five languages, has lived in Beijing and rural Japan, and throws frequent dinner parties for friends and family. I'm me: pretty, quiet, charming, quick to anger and to forgive, preferring a low-key night at home or with a couple of friends to an evening ski trip or an improv comedy show.

Reality checks and unfulfilled dreams like these can be painful. The emotions they stir up can gnaw at our bellies in a way that's impossible to ignore. As with any number of unpleasant sentiments, it's easy to treat regrets like these as if they were hunger pangs, and eat to make them go away -- with the predictable result that we feel worse when the temporary high dissipates and we realize that we've medicated ourselves with food.


Let's say that you, too, have a case of the spring blues and are tempted to eat your way to temporary relief. Hold on a moment. First, the upside: the blues themselves are not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps they're pointing you to something you need to pay attention to, as other kinds of pain do when your body is in danger. In my case, I've realized it's time to start dating and move ahead with my plans for a  new career. What about you? What might the blues, spring or otherwise, be telling you? And how can you overcome them without resorting to snacks? Read my next post to find out!

Friday 17 January 2014

Enjoy January -- and don't sweat those extra Christmas pounds


January is one of my favourite months. I love sitting down at my computer or, if I'm in an old-fashioned  mood, with my notebook, and coming up with goals and resolutions for the new year. On my daily commute to work and back, I immerse myself in the latest fitness trends and greedily eye the luscious photos of
superfoods and the accompanying recipes urging me to try them at home.

January is the month par excellence for making changes. It's a month of hope, a month of renewal. It's the time we most often decide to do something important for ourselves: book those tickets to Tahiti; revitalize a marriage or a friendship; learn to ride a bike; start volunteering. Naturally, it's also the month when -- inevitably rather rounder than before Christmas -- we vow to lose our extra holiday pounds and any other ballast we're carrying.

In our mood of unbridled optimism, we see oh-so-clearly the path to happiness. Obviously, all it will take is getting ourselves to the gym five days a week, plus runs on Saturday mornings and a disciplined approach to meals -- salad at breakfast and lunch, soup at dinner, and absolutely no dairy or gluten, except on Mondays and Fridays.

Ned Bell
The interesting thing is, aside from a few iron-willed mortals, this approach is guaranteed to backfire. Why? It ignores basic human nature (not to mention basic biochemistry.) We like to be full. We like to enjoy our food. And we like to feel rested and comfortable. It's no wonder that our extreme dietary resolutions go off the rails with depressing inevitability. Starving and exhausting ourselves are excellent ways to wreck our health, not improve it.

That's why I particularly liked two articles I came across in the first half of January. Story number one is about four Vancouver chefs -- Thomas Haas, Ned Bell, Quang Dang and Dana Hauser -- and their love of food and fitness. They're living, breathing proof that it's possible to be passionate about food and still stay trim. Indeed, this is one of my not-so-secret secrets about reaching and maintaining a good figure: know thy food, love (making and eating) thy food, and find ways to stay active that thou likest. Read and enjoy. You'll see what I mean.

Article number two is by a stylish and opinionated food writer who also hails from British Columbia's Lower Mainland: Mijune Pak. A couple of weeks ago, she filled up a column in the West Ender with lighter versions of local comfort foods to taste test in January. Not only did she make me want to give each of these delicacies a try, but I dug her attitude. Like the rest of us, she gained a pound or two over the holidays, but she wasn't fretting about it. They'll be gone soon, I could almost hear her say. My feeling exactly. If you want lose all traces of those lovely Christmas indulgences, forget the harsh regime. Make a few easy tweaks, stay calm and focussed, and your jeans will be the right size again before you  know it.

Friday 10 January 2014

New Year, new focus

Rain is pelting against my window. It's almost time for me to turn in, but first -- to blog.

2014 is only 10 days old, and already, I've been for quite the ride. My mood has soared and plummeted with the temperature, itself unusually variable by Vancouver standards. This is partly because I've developed a few bright-red patches of irritated skin, a.k.a. eczema, on my face. My best guess is that worry and the weather are tag-teaming to bring this about. In the great scheme of things, it's a minor irritant (pun intended), but somehow, it's got my attention more than it otherwise might. Perhaps it's because it's not all that pretty or because I can't figure out the underlying cause or, more likely, because it's a sign there's something awry in the body of one Ms. Slim.

Unsexy as it is, I've been applying Vaseline to the affected areas and hoping against hope they'll clear up. In the meantime, I've cut down as much as I can on my beloved no-sugar-added chocolate. This week, I'll see whether I can live without dairy products (not easy for a woman who has three favourite varieties of plain yogourt:P). Attention to diet seems to be working, though the most helpful thing, judging by how much better my face looks on Monday mornings, is a break from work and as many good sleeps as possible.

Why am I telling you this? I thought you might appreciate it if you're prone to eczema or strange rashes. Clearly, I haven't yet solved the problem; still, sometimes it helps to know that you're not the only one with uncannily sensitive skin.

On the bright side, the rash has made it easy to focus on my number one New Year's resolution, to wit:

1. Be easier on myself. Take care of my body and mind.


With resolution #1 in mind, I decided to give Dr. Andrew Weil's 8 Weeks to Optimum Health a read. He dispenses lots of useful advice. Week one involves five minutes of daily meditation. Before I hop into bed, I'm going to give this tactic a try.

Meanwhile, I've taken a leaf out of a friend's book and am drinking a glass of water with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice each morning before I head out. And no more coffee till this rash clears up!