New Fad Diet That's Even Faddier than Other Fad Diets!!

Are you sick of diets that only work for a month, before your weight bounces back up to where it was?




Tired of YO-YO Dieting?


Are you dying for a way to lose weight that's easy, but lasts slightly longer than other easy diets?


Stop playing GAMES with your body! 

You should stop Yo-Yo Dieting... and start... HOPSCOTCH DIETING!!


Hopscotch Dieting?? What's that??!?!??!?!?!?!?!?


It's a new, easy and effective weight loss program!


How DOES IT WORK?


It's simple--just like the game hopscotch.


Your first step is throwing your stone to create a marker (setting a weight loss goal). And then when you have your goal in mind, you hop onto the first square. There, you will enter diet phase one, where your diet will consist of cabbage, boiled water and salt (to be eaten separately).  THEN, after two and a half weeks, you can hop onto squares two and three. Step two is the one where you will eat carrots, cabbage, lemon and evaporated water (to be inhaled through a straw). Step three involves the exercise portion of your weight loss routine. Do 1000 jumping jacks a day, every day for 20 days.


Can't do them? Well, you're hopeless and should give up and go grab a double-cheeseburger meal and get to work on your next heart attack.

What's the next square?!?!

We can't tell you the other steps because we want your money! But we can tell you they're equally restrictive and even more arbitrary.

I Don't Understand....


Yeah, you get it! Now I bet you want to know how to order.


I didn't say that...


You didn't have to! Just dial 1-888-FAD-DIET for more information, or send a blank, authorized cheque to 123 Fake Street, Providence, Rhode Island.

Start HOPPING your way to weight loss today!!!!!


Disclaimer: The rules of this diet have been chosen arbitrarily. There is no clinical or theoretical reasons for doing any of these steps, other than a decrease in caloric intake and increase in physical activity. The Hopscotch Diet is not nearly as effective as a healthy diet combined with exercise.

Julie, Julia and Jason-lia Project

 SOooo I totally have a new and completely original idea for a blog: I'm going to go through every entry on Julie Powell's blog (the one on which she goes through every recipe in Julia Child's book Mastering the Art of French Cooking) and reenact every single one of her experiences.

The blog: Julie Powell's attempt to go through every one of 540 recipes in 365 days. It's eight years later.

The Contender: News Writer by day, Jason Halbauer was looking for a challenge. And in the Julie/Julia/Jason Project, he found it.

Seriously though, I'm not doing any of this.

BUT I am trying to blog more, and part of that will hopefully involve cooking, recipes and food photography. To start, here's a couple shots of the fantastic Sweet Chili Lime tofu with Wok-Steamed Collards and Quinoa. I'm new to food photography, but I think this one looks pretty damn good.

Banff/A New Beginning

I'm posting this partially as a way to "just post," to try and break down the wall between occasionally posting and being "a blogger." I supposed the picture is to be the focus of this entry, but the other part of the focus is on taking steps forward, on finding direction with my own personal blogosphere.

I know many of you have probably happened on this blog once or twice, maybe you even read and liked an entry or two. But, alas, I have not really posted enough to give you any prolonged reason to stay here or to revisit. Well, this post marks a change in the tides. No longer will I forget about this blog, or put it on the shelf for other things.

My problem, I think, was that I would only post when I have an idea for a blog. No longer. I will come up with ideas to post on my blog, rather than blogging when I come up with ideas.

This is not to say that my future blogs will be inane, and without purpose or direction (hopefully).  It means that I will know that I have to write a blog entry on (X) day, I will think about what to do for that entry I will blog and then I will sit down and blog said blog. I will no longer wait for inspiration. I will create it.

This may seem like a minor distinction, but t'is not. Fear me, oh dear readers. Fear me. I am a man on a blogging mission.

Lululemon and the Fat Acceptance Movement Part 1

Disclaimer: I know there are few things people who have problems with weight hate more than someone who does not (ie. me) talking about weight in such a way that casts blame on the person who is overweight. I know this is also largely the reason for the Fat Acceptance Movement. It is not my intention to insult or patronize anyone, especially not those who are already sensitive about themselves. Apologies if this blog creeps into that territory.

I've been thinking about doing a blog on the fat acceptance movement for a while now, as I find the whole thing quite interesting--the idea that people are persecuted and discriminated against for their weight. I've been quite interested in discrimination in the past few years (speciesism is a favourite as of late, but sexism and racism are also high on my list). But what really clenched it was this article that Tracy pointed out to me about Lululemon. Basically, there's some reason to believe the company may be getting rid of sizes 12 and 14 (and incorporating a size 0). It was one instance where I really thought, "maybe the fat power folk are onto something."

While the actual details in the Lululemon case are in the allegation phase right now, one can definitely understand their motivation for doing so:

a) They want their product to appeal to other potential buyers (...and maybe size 14 folks aren't good advertising for lulu)

b) They promote a healthy lifestyle (...and most of would us probably assume size 14 folks aren't part of that lifestyle)

But one could also argue that not providing these sizes is a form of discrimination or prejudice. It would be tough to find another group that could be actively excluded without it raising some serious flags. It also makes a company that already seems a little elitist (with their high price tags and fancy storefronts) seem even more so (since people who are poor are far more likely to be overweight).

And you can't claim they are just avoiding unusual sizes because the size 0 is far more rare than size 14, let alone size 12. In fact, overweight people actually make up the majority in Canada and the U.S. (and, I'm sure, other countries).

But then, there always stands the argument that by accommodating for people who are overweight or obese, you're simply allowing them to go with their unhealthy lifestyle without trying to make real, healthful change (of course, that assumes that overweight/obese people are always unfit, something I'll get into in Part 2).

This leads me to the real issue I want to examine about obesity, its perception in society and whether the Fat Acceptance Movement is a worthwhile idea, or something we should be at least somewhat skeptical of.

To be continued...

Moral Schizophrenia

I was having a conversation with a friend at work and he pointed out this story to me, about a Tundra Swan with an injured left wing who had to be flown back to Alberta, otherwise he might have died.

The friend expressed what I might call outrage that such resources were put into helping one animal. He pointed to another story (which I'm having trouble finding right now) about a deer in New Brunswick (I believe) that was stranded on a lake, injured, and wandering around, obviously suffering. Members of the public were fairly outraged that officials didn't get to the deer more quickly and end its suffering. Meanwhile, probably 100 yards away, there were numerous people... hunting deer:

"Why don't they just hunt that deer instead, put it out of its misery, and everyone just shut up," said my friend.

One local ended up boating out to where the deer was and killing it. The CBC story ended, by the way, with a thankful, "The deer meat did not go to waste."

While I don't necessarily agree with my friend (or CBC's) conclusion on the matter, I do agree there is a serious disconnect between how we treat and view animals in different situations. Why does it matter if a deer suffers if we see no value in the creature's life anyway? Or do we just feel less bad when it's a "quick kill" or when the suffering is done in slaughterhouses, hidden from view?

My experiences have shown me that most people have at least some problem with animal cruelty, though where they draw the line between "cruel" and "acceptable" may be vastly different. Maybe they draw the line with companion animal abuse, cruelty with no purpose or with what goes on in our meat and dairy industries.

I know a number of people who will become irate when hearing about Michael Vick or the Toronto Humane Society, and then turn around and eat a steak. Or people who look down on hunters, but have no problem eating meat from animals that had far less of a fair chance at life, and far less of a pleasurable life. I've even seen someone eat bacon while looking up cute pictures of pigs online. Of course, I dare not bring up that pigs often have their tails chopped off and are castrated at a young age (by hand and with no anesthetic).

Prof. Gary L Francione refers to this as a type of moral schizophrenia, where we place animals in different categories for no logical reason. Animals A, B, and C are our friends; animals D, E, and F are our food. An organization out of Toronto had a great series of ads that showed animals from each category and bluntly asked, "Why love one, but eat the other?"

While there are no simple answers for what we deem cruel and what we deem "the natural order of things," I nonetheless think this is worthy of consideration. Are our instincts to feel bad flawed or wrong? Or should we recognize our moral considerations towards all animals and find ways to incorporate them into our daily lives?

Objection

Mae Mua Loi didn't feel like an object. Yet, she had slowly figured out that this was, in fact, the case. She knew this by the way she seemed to exist for the sole purpose of her owners' whims, even those that seemed relatively frivolous. And by the fact that she even had owners. As she walked through the streets of Bangkok, doing tricks for a few hundred baht, she noticed how no other person seemed to have owners. Every person seemed quite free--particularly the young, lighter-skinned ones wearing backpacks--her owners' best customers.

The only logical conclusion was that she was not deserving of personhood. Mae had no choice but to make these trips. It didn't matter that her sensitive feet were cracked and hurting. It didn't matter that the city absolutely overwhelmed and confused her. She was going to get her owners the money, like it or not.

Of course, Mae Mua Loi couldn't vocalize--or even rationalize--any of this. But the transformation from a self-perceived person to an object could be seen in every aspect of her demeanor. Instead of moving with haste, eager for what may come next as she once did, she simply moved along as instructed.

The problem was, Mae Mua Loi didn't particularly like being an object. She felt like she had goals, albeit maybe not as socially complex as that of her owners. She liked meeting other elephants. She enjoyed strolling through bushes, looking for leaves and fruit to eat. In fact, those times were the only ones where she felt... normal. But those instincts were wrong. They had to be. Why else would she be in this position? Perhaps it was some sort of design flaw.

The first time she suspected she was an object was when she was a very young elephant, about three years old. She was separated from her mother by several men with sticks with nails on the end. Of course, she did not know this was the last time she would see her mother. If she had, she might have fought a little harder to be with her for even just a few moments longer, before the pain from the stabbings became too unbearable.

Instead, she did as the men seemed to want. She had learned that if she listened to commands, they would have no reason to stab her. It was a lesson she could not forget, because of the still-fresh wounds on her backside. But when she saw where she was being driven, she suddenly lost her calm sense of obedience. She was being led towards a small, wooden cage. Too small, or so she thought, to fit her elephant girth.

While it's true that few beings enjoy such confined accommodations, Mae Mui Loi had a particularly strong aversion. She began to look for an escape route when she realized that, in her panic, she hadn't noticed a rope slipping around her neck. She jerked hard, trying to pull away. The rope tightened. She noticed the men closing in on her, sticks held high. Her lungs emptied with a scream as the first jab hit her behind her back-left leg. Her eyes rolled back as she struggled to find a position of relative calm. As the second jab hit her right side and she felt another rope tighten around her, she knew she had to submit. If she would just enter the cage, maybe she would be left alone. Two holes in her thick, but sensitive, skin was enough.

Defeated, she walked towards the cage. The man with the rope around her neck pulled her forward with force. And then, a moment of calm. This didn't seem so bad to Mae. But the calm did not last for more than that moment. The next thing she knew, she was being jabbed again, this time from behind. She felt vague feelings of shock, confusion, betrayal. Had she not done what they wanted her to do? Suddenly, it was loud all around her. Men chattering was all she could hear. Soon they had ropes tied around her extremities. She felt the vibrations of one man climbing on top of the cage. And then, blinding pain from all directions. Her eyes rolled back again and she let out a low, rumbling sound that surprised even her. Her legs almost gave out as the pain seared through her body. But the vicious attack did not stop there. For three days, the men would sporadically stab her. She no longer believed they wanted her to do something for them. She didn't know what to believe. In her limited knowledge, she could imagine no reason for one being to do this to another. Towards the end of this cruel, ritualistic experiment was the first time Mae considered the possibility she was an it.

But now, walking down the streets of Bangkok, towards Mae decided she was going to listen to her instincts, no matter how inappropriate they may have been. The vibrations in her feet, the noise, the potholes--it had all become too much for her. Her giant body turned, much to the surprise of her Mahout, and she was moving away from the busy market.

She was an object. Running away. A ball rolling away from a child who never appreciated it in the first place.

Thoughts on My Gradual Loss of Voice

Those who have seen me over the last little while probably have at least some knowledge of this, but for those who don't, I've been having some major issues with my voice as of late. It's to the point now where if there's more than three people in a room, you probably can't hear me talk. The question that invariably follows my squeaky attempts at talking is "what is it?" or "is it laryngitis?" The answer to that is, frankly, I don't know. My doctor seems to think it's some sort of virus. I tend not to agree with him (I've had a tendency of losing my voice for years). But really, no one knows. I'm going in for a biopsy in December, so hopefully that yields some answers.

My early response to this affliction was a mix of optimism ("it'll go away!") and feelings of minor irritation. It's just something I have to deal with for now and then it will get better. And then, after a couple of months of things not getting better (but rather, worse), I started to consider the possibility that this wasn't a temporary affliction--that even if whatever was bothering me was fixed, I still may never have a full voice again. Always the optimist, I thought "I'll always have the written word." I recalled The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. That guy wrote a book and all he could do was blink. I can still take pen to paper, type, send communications by way of punching... "Loss of voice? Is that the best you can do, universe?"

After a little over six months of this, I'm still in a similar place. But I've also started to realize the full implications of being voiceless. Things like quips, for example, are a thing of the past. Nobody laughs when nobody hears you. I'm also more selective about what I say. I have to avoid complicated social exchanges with people I don't know, to prevent any confusion or the inevitable awkwardness of someone not hearing you three times. I'm often the subject of pity, which is a mixed blessing. It is kind of heartwarming to see total strangers being so kind and empathetic towards something even I don't fully understand. But on the other hand, being on the receiving end of pity has a way of making you feeling a certain kind of pathetic. It's also made me a less attractive person (not in the sexual attractiveness way, because no affliction in the world can hide this raw sex appeal). I've noticed good friends hesitating to start a conversation because of the vocal barriers involved. Meeting people for a beer or a tea or just having a good, thoughtful conversation, which are usually my favourite things to do, are now almost not worth it. Furthermore, written communication has a number of barriers, like a misunderstanding of tone, the absence of accompanying body language... and the fact that some people just aren't great at communicating through reading and writing.

I'm very aware that things could be a lot worse and I'm quite thankful for every other part of me that is fully functional. I can't even begin to count the number of ways in which I'm lucky, and I'm certainly not trying to complain. I just thought some people might want to know what is going on and what my thought process has been on it, since I haven't been too vocal about it (pun intended).