“It’s gettin’ it’s gettin’ it’s gettin’ kinda heavy. I’ve got the power.” ~Snap

You find yourself sitting there, a box of cookies in your lap, an empty bag of chips at your feet, a gallon of ice cream half gone. And you wonder, “What happened to my desire to lose weight? What happened to me?”

You might ask yourself where you went wrong, how you cracked, or how you ended up on this eating binge. “Why didn’t I say no?” you question. “Why couldn’t I just walk away? Why wasn’t I stronger?”

The reason, simply and honestly, is that you didn’t want to be strong…because perhaps you no longer believe in your own strength.

Sometimes we let life beat us down. Our day-to-day activities take away much of what is intrinsically “us” at the core. It is our core that is vibrant, strong, healthy, full of life, love and passion. Sometimes our core beings get buried, though, and we forget who we are, and mostly – how strong we are.

So take a moment to look back at your life. Think of all the things you DID do. Maybe you’ve survived a serious childhood illness, lost a beloved pet, overcome your first heartbreak, aced a test you thought you’d fail, or finished college while working full-time. Maybe you’ve experienced a firing or a layoff, carried and borne children, gone through an ugly divorce, lost a parent or a spouse, received an unexpected promotion, walked away from a car accident, or found your soul mate. Possibly you’ve excelled at a sport, learned a new hobby, survived a surgery, or cried with happiness at your child’s graduation.

Grab that little moment and reflect on your loves and losses. Maybe even make a list of what you’ve overcome and what you’ve accomplished. Then look at the cookies – directly into their beady, evil (yummy) chocolate chip eyes – and ask yourself, “I did all of that and I can’t do this? I can’t say ‘no, not right now?’ I can’t lose weight? Really???”

Answer that question to yourself. If you can remember the feelings of empowerment or the relief after surviving something traumatic you will realize that you can say no…that you really are as strong and capable now as you were then.

And you’ve got the power again, baby. Game on.

Onward and forward.

~Helen

Yes, that’s correct. You actually heard a woman say that she loves her thighs.

My thighs are not particularly attractive: They are neither long nor thin nor tan. In fact, they are kind of short, bulky and pale. So why do I love them?

Through literally thick and thin, my legs have done their job. They have climbed to the top of the Acropolis in Greece; splashed in the fjords of Norway; walked on the beaches of Thailand. They have taken me 100 miles by bicycle from Irvine to San Diego, run a 5k in Temecula, and ridden up Mt. Palomar. These very same legs have rocked babies to sleep, walked children to school and held kids up in the air in a game of “airplane.” As a personal trainer, they have shown clients how good it feels to move, and as a Spinning instructor they have led full classes on endorphin-elevating adventures.

My thighs have seen a lot. They have been very overweight, where at times they would blister on the insides from rubbing together. They have been very thin, where light could actually be seen in between them. Now they are in the middle. Neither thin nor fat, but rather sturdy and muscular.

I never feel as great as when I’m wearing bike shorts, mounting a bicycle, feet secured in familiar clipless pedals, thighs ready for action. I’m sure I don’t actually look as fabulous as I feel in those bike shorts, but I don’t really care – I am strong, capable, and very happy.

Sometimes I wish I had long, lean legs – sure. The kind of legs that turn mens’ heads. But then I remember that turning mens’ heads does not make me feel empowered, that wearing a miniskirt well does not release endorphins, and that no amount of tanning will get me up the side of a mountain on a bicycle.

My thighs have given me freedom. They have taken me interesting places and more adventures lie ahead. There are many foreign beaches to comb and ancient ruins to scale.

So even if I cannot turns mens’ heads by the length and beauty of my legs, maybe I can turn their heads by leg pressing their trucks. After all, that would be memorable. And creating memories are what my legs do.

I love my thighs.

It was March of 2003. I was sitting with my father in an exam room, waiting for the results of the CT scan for his back pain. We were in uncomfortable chairs, bored, making meaningless small talk. The PA walked in, took his seat, and without any preamble or warning matter-of-factly looked at us both and stated that my father had cancer – and it had spread throughout his body.

We sat there in shocked silence. Strong. Stoic. Expressionless mannequins, side-by-side. Our world was shattering around us, yet we were both fighting to maintain our neutrality, to show no feelings. Two emotionally-stunted human beings. Then quite unexpectedly I felt my right arm go up as I reached out smoothly and silently, grabbed my father’s hand – and squeezed.

In that instant, that one simple touch, that one simple connection of skin against skin, communicated what I had never been able to actually voice: I love you Dad.

He died five months later.

Touch provides comfort. Touch reassures. Touch helps physical and mental growth. Most of all, touch communicates, as I learned that fateful day.

In a world where we’ve been bombarded by the term “sexual harassment,” everyone is afraid of touch. Unless you are in a sexual relationship, have small children, or even pets, touch is persona non grata. And yet – yet – it is probably the most important part of life.

At the IDEA fitness conference in July of 2007, Life Fitness founder Augie Nieto, now confined to a wheelchair due to ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) spoke as a keynote presenter. His speech was infused with humor and insight. Possibly his most poignant point was about touch. He stated that touch is his most basic need now, the one thing he craves. And he made it clear that we need to touch people in wheelchairs, because they really need the interaction and the reassurance that it provides. He received a standing ovation.

Touch is magic. In people of all ages, it reduces stress, increases seratonin levels, releases oxytocin, and reduces cortisol levels in the body. Studies on infants and children link touch directly to healthy physical development. And yet we don’t do enough of it.

Don’t be afraid to reach out. Don’t be afraid to hug. Let’s not have society dictate an existence that forces us further apart from each other. We waste too much time in front of televisions, computers and in cars. We can be with people and yet feel alone and lonely. And if we are not careful we will wither away.

If you have kids, pets or are getting some “action” – maybe you have enough. But for the rest of us, or the handicapped, or the elderly, touch is probably fairly non-existent.

We are all aware of what touching is appropriate and what’s not. Let’s not fear so much. Reach out – hug – pat someone on the arm or the back. If someone is sad, hold their hand. If someone needs your arms, have them ready. It’s not hard. And it will make a difference – to all of us.

Pass it on.