12 Ways to Love Your Body (Peggy Elam)

1. Quit comparing yourself to others. It moves you off center & increases the likelihood of losing (or never achieving) balance and equanimity.

2. Quit weighing yourself. Throw away your scale or turn it into a “Yay!” scale (a delightful invention of body liberation/fat activist Marilyn Wann, author of Fat!So? Because You Don’t Have to Apologize for Your Size.

3. Celebrate diversity in body size & composition. Appreciate the beauty in all bodies.


4. Spend your time & money on yourself—beautiful clothes, jewelry, haircuts, hobbies, travel, socializing—not the weight loss industry.

5. Fire the food and body police. Spend time with people who respect size diversity and natural appetites—and you—and disengage from those who don’t.

6. Limit your exposure to media promoting unrealistic physical or behavioral standards; increase your exposure to body- and size-positive art and media.

7. Keep the connection between mind, body & spirit flowing through life-affirming movement and practices that increase positive body awareness.

8. Clothe yourself in garments that fit NOW.

9. Let go of the past—what you used to weigh, how you used to look—and accept your body as it is in the present.

10. Let go of the future—whatever you have put off doing until you _____________(lost weight, etc.), start doing now.

11. Stand & move (& sit) with confidence & assurance of your right to take up space in the world.

12. Be kind to yourself & your body. Expect detours & mistakes along your journey—they may provide you with valuable lessons, growth and healing

Last week, Newsweek had an article talking about the booming sale of Ferrari in China and 20% of it is owned by women, compared to only 5% women ownership worldwide. Why that many in China alone?  Because of mistressville. The writer (a female with a Western name) put it out as something novel in China---having a mistress.  The writer was saying that because a growing number of rich men in Shanghai are now having mistresses, the sale of designer bags and clothes and sports cars have increased tremendously. I don't know why this article was worth half a page in that magazine, except maybe because to a Western woman this is news, but their husband or boyfriend knows this practice to be as old as their most guarded secret.

In Asia, a mistress is also known as the "kept woman".  Depending on how rich the man is, she is kept in an apartment with all the rent and amenities paid for by the man. Her main job is to not get fat and not demand for his time, but must be willing to perform sex on demand. In other words, she must act like a mistress.  And In return, she gets all the jewelries she wants and all the Louis Vitton's she can carry.

There's a Chinese proverb, I  think some crazy Chinese said this, that says: A man will only get bad when he becomes rich, while a woman can only become rich when she gets bad. In my case, I wonder how old do I have to get, before I go bad.

Self Sufficiency: Part One

Sustainable living

When I bought my piece of land in the island I had no concrete plan about farming, but since I got back here in Dallas I have been reading and watching documentaries about sustainable living. And it has led me to a lot of eye opening information. So you bet, when I get back to the island I will not only be busy---I will be a busy farmer. As you can see, this woman doesn't have a big lot and yet, look at what she's got. So let's all try and do what we can with what we have, not only to sustain us but to use nature how God intended it for us.

Henry Ford didn't buy the idea of doing market research. "If I had asked the people what they wanted, they would have said, faster horses." And Steve Jobs was in the same mindset with Ford. He didn't consult the market for what he was going  to do next; he did what he wanted to do and gave us what we didn't know we need. And now we can't live without it.

Or at least, I think I can't live without it. Two weeks ago, Chat unloaded her old iPhone, iTouch and iPod to me and slowly I am just learning how to use them. When I learned to take a picture and post it to my Facebook wall instantly, and then call friends at the same time, I was just beside myself. And when I told Chat how awed I was, she said: "Mom, the rest of the world were already enjoying that even before Steve died." With that comment I knew not to post on Facebook how awed and mesmerized I was, or my 207 friends might unfriend me--- not wanting to have a cavewoman as their friend.

I know I am a century late in enjoying all these technological wonder available to us, but it's ok, because just looking at over 1000 songs stored in this little piece of contraption, I am already overwhelmed. And feeling distressed trying to decide which one I should listen first.
Choices. It's driving me crazy.

People are funny. And by people, I mean that to include you and me. When I go to restaurants with other people I pretend I'm undecided on what to order based on the bottom description of the item, when it's actually because of the price on the right column. And God forbid that my companion(s) catch my eyes looking more to the right than to the left of the menu. Omg, the cheapest item is 19.95 . "I'm not really hungry, I just want something light. I'll just have a cheese souffle."  "You're not eating? You just want a dessert?" Ooops, let me read that description again, I thought it's a soup.

But when Chat takes me to lunch or dinner, I don't look at the menu, I  just let her order away. What do I care? she's paying. And I'd have a different kind of worry then; she'd always order too much for me to eat. And drink. Figs in gorgonzola cheese.  

Goat cheese beignet, pizza and cheese fondue, before the lamb chops for me and sirloin for her. Don't even mind the bubblies and the reds that flowed.

Money. Lots of it or lack of it. People often misquote the bible verse that says, "For the love of money is a root of all sorts of evil and some by longing for it have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." It's not "money" but the love of it that's the cause of our misery. But who doesn't love and or covet money?

I do. And so are all the people and friends I know. But I have discovered early on, that money does not and could not buy happiness. Yes, money can get our wilted soul checked in at the Four Seasons and wail in private as we wipe our tears and snot with their 1500 thread count bedsheets. Would it help smoothen the wrinkle in our soul and make us forget the man who dumped us? I wouldn't know, I haven't been to a Four Seasons.

But 28 years ago, I was flown first class, transported by a Rolls Royce and slept in a suite at the Hong Kong Peninsula Hotel, crying my eyes out uncaring about anything around me, except for the fact that my body and mind could not process anything but the pain, knowing that my boyfriend at the time had another woman. So you see, you can entertain all our 5 senses with what money can buy or rent, but you can never fool the heart. It does what it does. And money, like food and drinks, is good and even necessary, but only if craved and used in moderation. Nevertheless, as I've always said: I've been rich and I've been poor and I found that rich is better.

Two more rental payments and I will be released from my contract on this apartment. At first, I had mixed emotions about giving up my apartment here in Dallas and make Cebu my base, but now I am more focused on just getting out and starting anew. 

From this living room:

To this living room: Depending on your perspective, you can say that I've traded down. This is my living room at the farm right now.

I already have my crib in the city but next year since I won't have any rental expense I plan to build a real house on the farm. By real, I don't mean big, but it means it will have a spacious kitchen.  My plan will be to build the house way up to the right of this tree. It is more elevated therefore it will have a vantage view of the ocean and the hills at the back.

And this is the view down below.  I call this place Molave because of this tree.

I can quit anytime

I don't have addictive tendencies (I don't think) but with Facebook, I've gotten so caught up in it. At first, I was using it simply to observe my friends---people watch in stalking mode, you know. Then one morning, I woke up going straight to it even before I could make coffee, posting comments and pictures. This continued the next morning, and the next morning and afternoon and the next morning, afternoon and way into the  night.  It's like getting involved with a man you know you should not be seeing anymore because he's taking up  your time and he's married, but you tell yourself: I can quit anytime. I just don't want to do it today. Then you find that you now have become dependent on  him for your joy. Much like Facebook.

With Facebook, we are sort of a celebrity: "Wow, you have 897 friends?" We're like Charlie Chaplin characters in reverse; we have voices through our "posts" but no one sees us. Only difference with us and real celebrities is  we don't kill ourselves when only 3 of the 897 friends "comments" or "like" our written outburts. We simply deactivate our account, hoping  someone would kill themselves of guilt for  not recognizing or validating us anymore.
Well, today, for the 327th time I have deactivated my account.  Curious why..... again? Well, do I need a reason? See if you believe this: Facebook has taken all my time, that blogging here has become second--- and it should not be that way. So there. 

I like to go to bed early because I love waking up early, but last night I was awakened around midnight and just could not go back to sleep. So here I am been awake since 1a.m. and trying to emulate Stephen King. I have read that Stephen is more creative when he is sleep deprived. In fact, one of his books, the title I could not remember (because I haven't read any of his books) was written and completed in 24 hours. Well, I guess that was also because he inhaled, ingested, injected or whatever it is you do with that stuff that makes you high as a kite.

I could tell I am not achieving any Stephenish effect here, because I can't even think what I should be writing now. Oh. Aaah, yes, well, let's talk about confusion.  About other people's confusion. A friend of mine went back to his wife after several years of being separated. "So how does it go?" I asked him after a month. " I hate living here." His wife loves to play the "helpless, mentally and emotionally challenged" creature, and he buys into it because it makes him feel not useless,  in spite that she treats him like her retarded manservant.  She thrives on parties and social status, while he hates it the same way he hates capitalism.  Because he now lives with her, he has to go to all the parties she goes to, and it's killing him. Or so he says.

"So what are you going to do about it?" "I'm thinking of moving to Panama and become a Panamenian citizen." "Oh really?" "Yes, for 300 thousand dollars I can have a Panamenian passport." I didn't ask why he wanted to give up his US passport, I just assumed that because he's a socialist, Panama would fit him alright. But I did ask why he just can't learn to live in harmony with his wife again. "Being alone has its rewards. I can pass gas anytime, anywhere in the house." The man knows what he wants, he's not confused after all. Which made me assess my own single life. And yes, that reason right there makes it all worth being single.

Bow River

Chat got me a weekend getaway to fly fish in Canada. Didn't catch anything, but just as well, because if I did, I'd pass out-- unable to handle too much excitement. The angst of the new experience was already too much. Because if you know me well enough and can go inside my head, you'd know that I enjoy "experiences" not during, but only after looking back at it. I know, I know. I'm just sick that way.

My hotel in downtown Calgary. Last year, Chat flew me business class and got me an apartment in Bannf for 2 days. This weekend, again, I flew business class and a suite. When I complained on the wastefulness of it, I think I heard her mumble the word "spoiled and ungrateful". 

At a cafe next door, coffee never tasted as good as this, paired with the crisp cold air.

And today's word picture...

You must have noticed that I am blogging less and less. Well, you must remember what I've been saying--my brain is clogged. And I have no energy left, except for whining and moaning. And on some days, I don't even have enough energy for that.

So let's just look at pictures.
Here in America we grow pumpkins to play with for Halloween.

While I grow them in my farm to eat and survive.

Remember my yacht? Well, here it is parked at the yacht club.

My caretaker and my surviboys would fish for our food when I am in the island. And what we use here in America as baits? we eat them back in the island. And I never hear the end of Chat's rebuke: Leave the baby fishes alone!!!

We don't waste nothing. We roast the whole pig.

And we sure don't throw away the guts.

And instead of eating rice right from the plate, we have to make it harder for ourselves.