Did you hear the terrible news about bacon earlier this week? Or was I the only one quietly sobbing over my breakfast? Well, misery loves company, so let me be the first to tell you that a daily dose of bacon has now been linked with a 19% increase in a person's risk of developing pancreatic cancer. Now we're both sad.
Turns out the study isn't new. Similar information was released in an article in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute way back in 2005. And it actually finds a correlation between higher risk of pancreatic cancer and a daily dose of any processed meat. Thankfully, most of us aren't in the habit of eating bacon or sausage every day. But cold cuts, that's a different story. Those innocuous looking deli meats were a lunch staple in my household. Were. Meet my impeccably timed Christmas gift from Beau. It's a meat slicer.
Last weekend, long before I'd openly wept into a bowl of oatmeal, my husband and I spent an afternoon turning a $12 turkey into about $45 worth of groceries. Every shred of dark meat was ground, the bones were boiled for stock, and the breast was slathered in herbs and roasted.
When they emerged from the oven, they were the first pieces of meat to go through my new slicer. Inaugural sandwich meat. That's a noble calling, in my opinion.
After a quick five minutes of concentrating on not cutting off my thumb, we had a platter full of delicious, homemade cold cuts, free from nitrates, added sugar and bucketfuls of salt.
Isn't it beautiful? This is a new tradition that will keep my pancreas and mouth happy for a long time.
P.S. Welcome to anyone hopping over from the Homestead Barn Hop and the Patchwork Living Blogging Bee! Do you guys and girls make your own cold cuts, too?
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Thursday, July 7, 2011
everybody's living for the weekend. i'm just eating.
It's getting easier and easier to resist pre-dinner snacking and the delectable vegan baked goods that my coworkers bring into the office, but once I leave work on Friday, all bets are off. I am a cocktail-guzzling, bar-snack-inhaling, fridge-rummaging machine and all of those extracurricular activities are undermining all my hard work from Monday to, er, early Friday.
What I need is two-fold. First, I need a plan like I follow during the week. Check. Next, I need something to stop me from snacking as a recreational activity. Beau is too scared to get in between me and a cookie (granted, understandable) so I'm on my own. It's just me versus myself. That's why I decided to post these signs from my Reasonable Thursday Self to my Slobbering Saturday Self. These doses of tough love will go on the fridge and pantry doors. Stay tuned for Monday to see if they worked.


May you be successful in your weekend endeavors as well!
Monday, February 7, 2011
A Body at Rest, Stays at Rest. Maybe.
I've always found it difficult to exercise. Not the act itself. The part where I put down the remote, lace up my sneakers and commit myself to half an hour of sweating. Despite sometimes even enjoying the sweating part, inertia is my main hurdle. At those times when standing up seems a physical impossibility, I pull out my bag of motivational tricks.
Cute Clothes: As little as five minutes of Sex and the City is usually enough to remind me how much I'd like to wear strapless dresses or high waisted jeans and that my fatty armpits and tummy pooch are the only things standing in my way.
Red Checks: Every night that I exercise, I put a red check on the calendar. The satisfaction I get from that is worth more than an endorphin buzz to me. Even though I didn't quite meet my goal at the end of January, seeing that army of little red checks helped me see how far I had come.
Variety: Most of the time, instead of putting on the same old Windsor Pilates video that I've had since college, I pick a new OnDemand exercise video. It keeps me from copping out on the basis of boredom or anticipating particularly painful moves (ya know, that ones that are actually good for you). As a fringe benefit, the range of moves keeps my muscles from getting used to a particular function. I'm an ab-crunchin', kick-boxin', disco-dancin' fiend.
Bad Photos: I may be one of the few women on earth with a mental body image that is actual skinnier than the one in the mirror. Sometimes my chubbiness even surprises me when I see my reflection because I would SWEAR I'm thinner than that. While that's all well and good for the psyche, it's not very helpful for motivation. A little vanity goes a long way here. When I'm really stuck in the doldrums, I refer to my absolute least favorite photos which turn the tables and make me look heavier than I actually am. The idea of another double-chin picture is enough to send me running… anywhere, so long as I'm running.
Self: I keep tabs on Self magazine to remind myself that exercising isn't just about looking less jiggly in a bathing suit. It's also about keeping my insidey bits in working condition. When I'm not picking up a copy, I poke around their website and follow a few of their blogs for a reminder that I owe it to my future self to take care of this. (You couldn't see it but I just did that up and down hand wiggle in front of my body).
Blogging: Publicly announcing that I actually have a goal has been immensely helpful as a last resort motivator. When none of the behind the scenes tools work, I think about how I don't want to admit that I didn't exercise as much as I said I would. The thought of broadcasting abject failure has gotten me moving more than once in the past month.
Of course, sometimes nothing is enough to get me moving. Mondays, for example, are miserable enough without adding another obligation so I've declared them my only devoted non-exercise day. The rest of the week is open season though. So, what motivates you?
Friday, January 7, 2011
If I Broke a Sweat, It Counts As Exercise
I remember reading somewhere that you can turn a behavior into a habit in one month. Theoretically, that’s how long you have to force yourself to engage in an activity for it to become second nature. That’s bad news when you get used to coming home from work and eating shredded cheese out of the bag before dinner (previously guilty) but good news when you’re a full week into your New Year’s resolutions and on track. Granted, these still seem like exciting, shiny new goals but on the other hand, I’m a quarter of the way to making them feel routine.
Of note, this is the first time in ages that I’ve actually exercised three times in one week. Tuesday night I exiled Beau to his man cave while I bopped around the living room to a free dance video from On Demand and I spent an hour on Wednesday and Thursday nights painting the powder room (see post title). Even if we only count each of those as ½ an exercise session each – which we shouldn’t since my biceps still hurt and the only way to paint a lower wall is sustained deep squats – then I’ll still meet my goal by the end of tomorrow. We’re leaving town in the morning for a snow shoeing trip up north. So, I’m feeling pretty good about that resolution.
The aforementioned powder room is also coming along nicely. It’s gone from Contractor’s Special…
Of note, this is the first time in ages that I’ve actually exercised three times in one week. Tuesday night I exiled Beau to his man cave while I bopped around the living room to a free dance video from On Demand and I spent an hour on Wednesday and Thursday nights painting the powder room (see post title). Even if we only count each of those as ½ an exercise session each – which we shouldn’t since my biceps still hurt and the only way to paint a lower wall is sustained deep squats – then I’ll still meet my goal by the end of tomorrow. We’re leaving town in the morning for a snow shoeing trip up north. So, I’m feeling pretty good about that resolution.
The aforementioned powder room is also coming along nicely. It’s gone from Contractor’s Special…
All in all, I’d call this a successful week. Next up, a weekend trip to Vermont.
No one needs that much grout!
… to gutted down to the bare plumbing with a lovely new wall color and artfully done new tiles.
Beau feels some sort of yuppie shame that he hasn’t grouted yet
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