Mad Girl Math Finds a New Home

We've moved to a new place that suits us much more comfortably.

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Thanks for reading along.  Namaste.
Juls

Counting on Balance

The incessant counting and chatter of Mad Girl Math make us crazy.  Sometimes, though, we can count for pleasure.  Take the six tastes, which hold a special place in balanced eating according to Ayurvedic  beliefs.

The ancient Indian science of Ayurveda – dating back more than 5,000 years and technically translated as “Science of Life” – aims to tell us how our lives can be influenced, shaped, and ultimately controlled without interferences from sickness and old age.    Ayurveda is based upon the principles of balance and awareness and the belief that our awareness is the key to our freedom from sickness.  This ancient wisdom recognizes that your mind exerts the deepest influence upon your body.

According to Ayurveda, the primary information in food – the manner in which food “talks” to your body – is contained in its taste. There are six primary tastes, or rasas, and in order to achieve balance, it is important to eat all six tastes at every meal.  They are:  sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent and astringent.

According to Deepak Chopra in his Ayurvedic manual, Perfect Health (find it here), “Without knowing about nutritional balance in terms of fats, carbohydrates, and proteins, native cultures around the world realized that their diets had to be dynamic.  They had to have tastes that wake up the body, like bitter and astringent, and others that soothe it, primarily sweet.  Digestion sometimes needed to be increased with “hot” tastes – pungent, sour and salty – and at other times decreased with “cold” tastes – bitter, astringent, and sweet.  All of this was understood instinctively.”

Ayurveda is a system of health that steers us away from the punishing counting of Mad Girl Math, toward an intuitive understanding of our bodies – and toward balance.  It’s both complicated and simple, and it’s a fascinating read.  

I started my journey with several of Deepak Chopra’s books and then attended a couple of outstanding workshop/retreats at the Chopra Center.   I was so caught up in the "aha" moment of Ayurvedic balance and the peace I experienced that I couldn't help but enthusiastically inform everyone I encountered. (My husband teased me at the time that I could use a little less Deepak and a little more Tupac.)  Perhaps more than any other discovery, the idea that balance – rather than rigorous self-discipline – is the key to happiness and a sense of personal peace, has changed my life.

I've since been introduced to an entire group of wonderful writers and speakers who make Ayurveda accessible and easy to understand.  Lisa Coffey has an excellent book called What’s Your Dosha, Baby? and a supporting website at   http://www.whatsyourdosha.com/. Here you can take a quiz to determine your dosha – or Ayurvedic body type.  She also sends out beautiful daily messages from her site coffeytalk.com.  John Douillard applies Ayurveda to exercise, explaining why certain fitness activities are better suited for certain body types – and in specific seasons – in Body, Mind and Sport (buy it at Amazon.com).  You can learn about cooking for Ayurvedic body types in Eat, Taste, Heal (get it here), which features gorgeous photos.

If you’re looking for a new way to be well that doesn’t include a calculator, consider an old way: Ayurveda.   And remember the number six at mealtime, so you can count on balance and satisfaction.

Addition Over Subtraction

There’s no one, where Mad Girl Math is concerned, who likes subtraction.  It means deprivation, taking away, starvation… ultimately, it means malnutrition.  It works like this:

1.       Carbs are bad. I will subtract them from my diet. (Me – Carbs = Thin and miserable)

2.       Fat and oil make me fat.  Subtract them.  (Me – Fat = Thin, but bitchy)

3.       I eat too much; I need to subtract calories.  (Me – LOTS of calories = Thin for as long as I can stand it)

Here’s the problem with Mad Girl Math subtraction:  it never works.  A period of deprivation and starvation is nearly always followed by a period of bingeing.  After all, subtraction is based on will power, and we’re human.  At some point down the road, we will each face a day when we’re not as strong as we’d like to be, our awareness is low, our defenses are down.  And kapowee, the binge sets in.  And oh, what a glorious rant of self-destruction and self-loathing ensues.

There’s an alternative to subtraction.  It’s addition.  It’s not based on self-deprivation, so no will power is required.  Instead, it’s based on self-reward, self-care and self-respect.  And giving up the Mad Girl Math to stop punishing ourselves gives us freedom to focus on what’s required for us to thrive.  The addition approach works like this:

My body needs 500 – 600 calories a day in vegetables, about half of those raw, to take in the phytonutrients required for me to thrive.   If I ADD 600 calories in vegetables to my current diet (two cups salad, two cups green leafy or cruciferous vegetables, and another two cups mixed vegetables), what will I “crowd out” because I’m full?

Go ahead, call me crazy.  Seven cups of vegetables??  If I only eat 1,200 calories a day, how can 600 of them be vegetables?  First of all, 1,200 calories per day is starvation and deprivation.  Second, when you eat 600 calories in vegetables FIRST, you’ll find that miracles happen.  Your cravings for sugar will reduce, your energy level will soar, your skin tone will improve, the whites of your eyes will become whiter. You will be satisfied in a way you’ve never been before.   I kid you not.

The number one vegetable in America is ketchup.  Number two?  French fries.  Seven cups of natural, beautifully-colored vegetables grown straight from the earth may seem outrageous, but only because we’ve gotten so far away from what’s natural.  Add the veggies in.  And as you do, focus on the additions to your life:  mental clarity, energy, power to fight disease, digestive health… weight loss. 

One way to do this is with smoothies.  If you’re averse to drinking something green, I totally understand.  It freaked me out at first, too.  But the amount of nutrients that go into a properly-made smoothie is astounding, and the taste is surprisingly refreshing.  If you’re a junk-foodie, making and drinking your own smoothies comes with an actual sense of pride.  Mark my words, you will brag about it to your friends.

Try this:  one cup almond milk (original, unsweetened), two cups spinach, ½ cup frozen pineapple, ½ cup mixed frozen berries, one lemon (peeled), stevia liquid drops to taste. 

Add it in, and then tell me about it.  And for this month, join me in laying down the minus signs.  They’re not getting us to the answers we deserve.

Math Problems with Zero Answers

Here are some Mad Girl Math problems where the answer is always zero.  More specifically, “I am nothing.”

1.       I ate well for the last ten days and felt great.  Today I had one package of Red Vines.  I will cheat again and again.  I am a loser.

2.       I’ve lost two pounds per week for the past three weeks.  This week I lost zero.  It’s over. This diet won’t work.   I will never lose weight; I will be fat forever.

3.       I have received all “A’s” on my exams so far at school.  I got a “B” on my practicum.  Everything is falling apart.  I suck; I am stupid.

4.       I just got my review at work.   I got a “5” (the highest score) on every area except coming to work on time.  I’ve been tardy four days in the past year.  I am a horrible employee.

These problems are debunked in Feeling Good, by David D. Burns.  Originally published in 1980, this is still one of the best-selling self-help books of all time.  In it, Burns talks about ten cognitive distortions that keep us depressed and limit our ability to see the world as it really is. 

I bring it up because Mad Girl Math, regardless of the equation, generally relates to one of these 10 cognitive distortions:

1.       All or Nothing Thinking:  You see things in black-and-white categories. If your performance falls short of perfect, you see yourself as a total failure.

2.       Overgeneralization:  You see a single negative event as a never-ending pattern of defeat.

3.       Mental Filter:   You pick out a single negative detail and dwell on it exclusively so that your vision of all reality becomes darkened, like a drop of ink that colors an entire beaker of water.

4.       Disqualifying the Positive:  You reject positive experiences by insisting they “don’t count” for some reason or another, maintaining a negative belief that is contradicted by your everyday experiences.

5.       Jumping to Conclusions:  You make a negative interpretation even though there are no definite facts to convincingly support your conclusion – you read minds, or tell the future.

6.       Magnification and Minimization:  You exaggerate the importance of things (your errors or imperfections) or inappropriately shrink things (your desirable qualities or someone else’s imperfections).

7.       Emotional Reasoning:  You assume your negative emotions reflect the way things really are: “I feel it, therefore it must be true.”

8.       Should Statements:  You try to motivate yourself with “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts”, as if you had to be whipped and punished before you could be expected to do anything.

9.       Labeling and Mislabeling:  An extreme form of overgeneralization, instead of describing your error, you attach a label to yourself.

10.   Personalization:  You see yourself as the cause of some negative external event which in fact you were not primarily responsible for.

Here’s the good news about cognitive distortions:  we can overcome them with awareness and practice.  And while you might not be clinically depressed, if you engage regularly in Mad Girl Math, your thinking may well be distorted in some way.

In Feeling Good, The Feeling Good Handbook, and Ten Days to Self Esteem, David Burns provides practical exercises to overcome this kind of Mad Girl Math.

http://www.amazon.com/David-D.-Burns/e/B00455GNDO/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1365959069&sr=8-2-ent

Today is day six without the numbers.  I’m listening to the story problems in my head, and checking them for faulty equations.

The Measure of a Woman

“A WOMAN IS OFTEN MEASURED by the things she cannot control. She is measured by the way her body curves or doesn’t curve, by where she is flat or straight or round. She is measured by 36-24-26 and inches and ages and numbers, by all the outside things that don’t ever add up to who she is on the inside. And so if a woman is to be measured, let her be measured by the things she can control, by who she is and who she is trying to become. Because every woman know, measurements are only statistics and STATISTICS LIE.”   -Marilyn Monroe

Summer Vacation Story Problems

Raise your hand if you’ve had these Mad Girl Math story problems on your test for self-worth:

February 1:  There are three months until my vacation.  I need to lose 25 pounds.  How many pounds must I lose per week to be thin enough to be happy and enjoy my vacation?  Answer: Approximately two pounds per week.

March 1:  There are only two months left until my vacation.  I still need to lose 25 pounds.  How many pounds can I lose per week if I exercise two hours per day and eat only celery, thereby being worthy and happy on my vacation?  Answer:  Approximately three pounds per week.

April 15:  I have only two weeks left until my vacation.  I still need to lose 25 pounds.  I am screwed.  How many Coronas must I drink (substitute “shoes must I buy, cigarettes must I smoke, Peanut M&M’s must I eat”) to make me forget about the fact that I am a loser and unworthy to wear a swim suit?  Answer:  an endless amount.

Many thanks to those of you with your hands in the air.  Please come sit next to me at the table I’m beating my head against.

I have been working on these math problems since January, when we planned our vacation for this summer – a vacation that includes beaches and swimming pools, and by default, swimming suits – with people I know and respect.  People I sometimes deem “greater than” me.  But this week I made the risky decision to throw the test in the trash.  I’ve taken this same test – and failed – before every vacation of my adult life.  (Not to mention class reunions, which I’ve come to believe should be held on Skype, with camera-views from the neck-up.) Even when I pass the test I fail, because when the event is over, I forget what I learned, and put the same 25 pounds right back on.

I am constantly confused by problems where I count the days “until I am happy.”  I’ve decided to be happy now.  In the place of these two story problems, I’ve given myself two short essay assignments per day, plus a bonus activity.  I’ve always been better at English than math, anyway.

1.       Upon opening my eyes each morning I will write down three things for which I am grateful.

2.      Before going to bed each night I will write down three things that went well that day, and what role I played in those things going well.

3.      I will create a “gratitude jar.”  This is a transparent glass jar or vase, next to which I will place a small notepad.  Each time I walk past the jar, I will write one word on a piece of paper – a thing for which I am grateful.  I will fold the paper into a small square, and drop it in the jar.  I will watch the jar fill up day by day, hour by hour, as my heart simultaneously fills with gratitude and gladness.  I will invite my family members and guests at my home to drop paper in the jar, as well -- to share in their gratitude.

I will abandon my quest for perfection with a date-stamp; but I will not abandon my commitment to focusing on my long-term wellness.  I owe it to myself to be well.  So as I mindfully choose fresh, whole foods over things from a box, a bag, a tube, a can or a drive-thru window, I will do so because I am deserving, not because I am unworthy and need to be fixed.  As I walk or run or ride a bicycle, I will do so because I am able, and because doing so will enhance my ability to experience life joyfully, not because I am running out of time to achieve arbitrary goals I believe will bring happiness.  I will look forward to my vacation, and then I will enjoy it.  Because I have earned it.

Is anyone else willing to throw the test in the trash?

Who's Hungry?

I’ve had the following advice about when to eat:

1.       Eat five small meals a day; don’t allow yourself to get hungry.

2.       Eat three meals a day and don’t eat until you feel hungry.

3.       Eat two meals, lunch and dinner, and then fast through breakfast.

4.       Eat your biggest meal at breakfast.

5.       Don’t eat after 5:00 p.m.

6.       Eat just before a workout.

7.       Wait to eat for an hour after your workout so your body burns fat.

It goes on and on.

I did not hear these things from friends at the coffee shop.  These are conflicting recommendations from doctors, sports nutritionists, health bloggers and authors of best-selling diet books.  It’s mind-boggling.  And I’m not even touching the subject of what to eat.  Just the simple question, “Should I eat now?”

At this point you may be wondering why I would consult professionals – scientists, even -- to tell me when to eat.  I am not alone.  I recently read about a computer you wear all day on your arm.  It tells you exactly how many calories you’ve burned, and when and what to eat next.  (“You have 25 calories available now; eat a cucumber.”) 

I made a commitment not to count for 30 days.  But without the Mad Girl Math, how am I supposed to know when to start eating?  And when to stop? 

What if I just eat when I’m hungry, and stop when I’m satisfied?  Because, as my friend Kyla says, “This is anarchy.”

I run a company, consult others on how to run theirs, raise a child and file taxes.  Surely I can trust myself to know when I’m hungry.  Google the phrase, “What does hunger feel like?” and you’ll find scores of entries from counters like me who don’t know if they’re hungry or not.  Worse, we don’t actually care if we’re hungry or not – we just want to know whether or not it’s OK to eat now.  Do we get to eat now? 

I’d like to issue a challenge.  Let's get in touch with the feeling of hunger.  And for the duration of this 30-day test, let’s eat when we’re hungry.  And then, let’s eat until we’re satisfied.  Not full.  We don’t need to be full.  We need to be satisfied.   Because if we’re taking care of ourselves – if we’re giving ourselves what we deserve – isn’t satisfied what we’re after?   

And if we’re eating when we’re not hungry, let’s ask ourselves this question:  What pleasure am I getting from this? This is the question, my friends.  I have a feeling the answers might be painful.  But the truth is, the numbers don’t stop me from eating.  They just give me a reason to beat myself up when I do eat.  The numbers aren’t working, and they are wearing me out.

Who's hungry?

Moments Over Measures

Yesterday I made a commitment to give up destructive counting.  To stop measuring calories or inches or pounds or dollars earned.   To cease classifying myself as greater than , equal to, or less than anyone else.  To give up the Mad Girl Math for 30 days.

Initially I felt a calming sense of relief.  Shortly after that, a kind of wonder about what I would do with the left-over “thought time” formerly taken up by counting.  Since much of this time was spent privately while in the presence of others (I can count and judge myself silently while multi-tasking), just being present could logically fill in that time.  And I like the sound of this.  Imagine being fully present while enjoying a meal with someone I love.  A remarkable benefit right out of the gate.

After a few hours, though, the urge to count took its toll.  And in the absence of old measurements, what did I count? The number of people who read this blog, of course.  I counted page views, followers, comments and likes.  To be truthful, I didn’t have to count them.  Blogger provides an excellent overview page with significant markers indicating my success or failure at sharing my true feelings with potential readers.  I was riveted. I could even see the geographic distribution of my readership, and spent no small amount of time wondering who had viewed my page from France.  Surely that must point to some degree of success.  Day one, and I’m world-wide.   Mad Girl Math?  In the very worst way.

And while I was loath to force myself away from the numbers, doing so opened me up to something new.    I found a pleasantly surprising comfort in the experience I was having.   I had written my first blog.  It’s been more than 40 years since I first put pencil to paper (but who’s counting?), and every day since, I’ve wanted to share my words with others.  Today I did that.  When I looked away from the numbers, when I just sat with myself and my fear and my silly wonder at what possessed me to throw words up on the Internet, I had a buzzing sensation that did not go away.  My success was irrelevant.  My joy was in the driver’s seat.

I once contacted a wonderful sports/life coach while training for a marathon.  I was having trouble completing my long runs, and feeling anxiety about doing things I’d done before without issue – things I had committed myself to do.  Coach Jerry told me that on my next long run I should avoid thinking about the workout as a 17-mile endeavor.  Instead, he said to run one mile, 17 times.  And as I finished each mile, I was to ask myself:  Do I feel like going again?  His advice seemed a bit like semantics to me, but I tried it none-the-less.  And something took over.  I became present to each mile – to the joy, the pain, the breathlessness, the freedom of an individual mile.  The number 17 lost its power over me.  I ran because I chose to.  Not because my training schedule told me to.  Because I could – not because I should.

This presence to experience, this awareness to what is happening right in the moment, is a beautiful gift.  We so easily club ourselves with the numbers.  How many miles to go?  How many moments before the work day ends?  How many glasses of wine before I feel relief?  How many pounds must I shed before I am right?  But the numbers take us out of the moment, into a dimension that is unreal, unsatisfying, and unproductive.  This moment, this experience, this feeling… this is what is real.  And what is real makes us feel real.

Do we sing because people are listening?  Or because we love to sing?  Do we write because people are reading?  Or because we love to write?  Do we diet and struggle and weigh ourselves because of how harshly people might judge us – or worse, how harshly we might judge ourselves?  Or do we eat an apple over a Twinkie because it tastes better going down, gives us a lift, and provides us with what we really need to feel good?

Yesterday I was lured by the Mad Girl Math of writing.  Today I decided to write by the words, rather than the numbers.  I decided to put one finger in front of the other and move forward.  In this moment, I feel safe and sound.  In this experience, I am immediately rewarded.

How about you?

My Personal Quest to Live Outside the Numbers

When my son was in the third grade, he embarked on a long-term challenge called “Mad Dog Math.”  The idea was to commit multiplication tables to memory, by repetition and speed.  In the end, these third graders were to be able to know the answer to “seven-times-nine” as well as they knew their own names.  They practiced numbers one through 12, each day advancing one number, and completing 24 problems related to that number.  The first round of tests allowed two minutes for completion of the 24 problems.  Missing more than two meant the test must be repeated.  And so went third grade, until all twelve numbers had been mastered first in two minutes, then in one minute, then in 30 seconds or less. They called it Mad Dog Math.  It became all-consuming.  The equations were committed to memory so indelibly that they can never be “uncommitted.”

I have, as of late, recognized a similar set of numbers that most of my friends have committed to memory.  They are the numbers by which we measure our self-worth – even though they are entirely unrelated to worth.  They are the numbers that drive us to run marathons and make it to the gym each morning.  They are also the numbers that drive us to binge, to drink, to spit at ourselves in the mirror, and to compare ourselves to the stranger sitting next to us in a restaurant.  They are the equations that play out time and again in our heads – to no avail, but with incredible importance to our egos.  I call this system “Mad Girl Math.”

It works like this.  I am 5’0” tall.  Today I weigh 150 lbs.  My  body fat percentage is 36.1%.  I know these numbers by heart.  I check them every morning and every night.  Today’s numbers tell me that I am fat.  My Body Mass Index is too high (another Mad Girl Math equation).  I am less worthy than I would be if these numbers moved to the left.

A gram of fat has 9 calories.  A gram of protein has 4 calories.  A gram of carbohydrate has 4 calories.  I can safely eat 1,200 calories a day and lose weight, although this number seems to be declining with age.  I burn approximately 100 calories by walking or running a mile.  If I do a BeachBody Insanity workout, I might hit 1,000 calories in an hour.  I don’t have to look these numbers up; I am not consulting a book or an exercise website.  This is Mad Girl Math.  I have committed, to memory, the equations that lead to an entirely unrealistic sense of self-worth.

If I don’t eat all day, I can save my 1,200 calories for wine at dinner.  Mad Girl Math.  If I work out twice today, I can burn 1,200 calories, eat mashed potatoes with butter, and not feel badly.  Mad Girl Math.  If I run 15 miles during the week and eight miles on my long run, I’ll burn 2,300 calories.  It takes 3,400 calories to make a pound.  Mad Girl Math.

Only 15% of my total calories should be carbohydrates.  Carbs are the devil.  Mad Girl Math.  There are 250 calories in a Snickers Bar.  Mad Girl Math.  Cigarettes have no carbs.  Mad Girl Math.  I used to smoke 25 cigarettes a day, but now if I force myself I can throw the pack away and not smoke at all.  But if I smoke 5 when I drink this weekend, I’ll be happier and less worthy than if I don’t.  Mad Girl Math.

That girl over there is thinner (greater than) than me.  I am about equal to that one.  That girl is bigger (less than) than me. Mad Girl Math.  I am thinner today (greater than) than I was at Michelle’s wedding.  I will be huge (less than) at Meredith’s wedding.  Mad Girl Math.

The problem with Mad Girl Math is not the numbers.  It’s their constant application to self worth.  If I were thinner, leaner, faster, more efficient, taller, younger, I would be… better.  I would be worthy.

And it doesn’t stop with the eating.  I’ve run marathons.  Last year I completed a Half-IronMan – that’s a 1.2 mile swim, a 56-mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run (Mad Girl Math).  I counted the entire way.  For 8.5 hours, I computed my progress.  I counted the number of minutes in transition, the number of minutes it took me to swim, run, bike.  The number of people who passed me.  The bikes left in the rack when I went to retrieve mine.  I added, subtracted and measured my worth.  At the end, I checked my ranking.  Were it not for my husband who never measures me with numbers, I may have forgotten to congratulate myself for attempting such an amazing feat.   Facts rule.  And numbers, my friends, are facts. 

And believe me, it’s not all about weight and body image.  These numbers span out into all kinds of amazing measurements.  My son played 8 hours of video games last weekend.  I am a bad mother.  Mad Girl Math.  I only studied two hours for my nursing classes yesterday.  I am a poor student.  Mad Girl Math.  He has eight years of college. I have zero.  I am not qualified to partake in this discussion.  Mad Girl Math.  I have no savings in the bank; he has an Individual Retirement Account.  He is greater than me.  Mad Girl Math.  I make $35,000 per year; she makes $50,000.  I am less than her.  Mad Girl Math.

I write about Mad Girl Math because I know I’m not the only one who computes these numbers.  I know plenty of people who count while they eat.  I know plenty of people who despise themselves for the number of drinks they consumed the night before, or for the number of Oreos that used to be in the empty plastic sleeve they’re holding.  I now plenty of people with greater-than, equal-to, or less-than signs floating continually in their minds.  I also know that Mad Girl Math isn’t just American.  It’s world-wide.

So I’d like to issue a challenge, to anyone out there who engages in Mad Girl Math (boys included).  For the next 30 days, let’s just not count.  Not measure.  Not weigh or compute or add or substract.  No fractions or less-than, equal-to, or greater signs.  No percentages or national averages.  Take a moment to find your Mad Girl Math problems.  They’re out there.  They might even be story problemsz:  Mary worked 48 hours last week while Jill worked only 42.  If Mary’s boss rewards employees for lack-of-balance in work/family life, who will more likely receive a promotion at the end of the week?   Find your math problems, and set them aside.

And in place of the counting, let’s give our bodies and our minds what they deserve.  After all, we don’t need a calculator to tell us when we’re hungry or full.  We don’t need a scale to tell us if we were kind to ourselves yesterday.  We don’t need a chart to tell us if we’ve treated ourselves with respect over the past week.  And we surely don’t need a mathematic symbol to tell us if we’ve given it our all.  And I predict that without the numbers – and with single-minded focus on treating ourselves with dignity and respect – we’ll each feel a shift.  A shift that we can’t measure, but we can enjoy.  We can relish.  We can cherish. 

Join me in a commitment to leave the numbers behind, and I will commit to writing, each day, about how we can do that.  How we can take care of ourselves, love ourselves, treat ourselves with dignity.  I will share my journey, and hope that you’ll share yours.

Thirty days.  I realize thirty is a number, too.  But we’ve got to start somewhere.

Who’s with me?