Monthly Archives: July 2011

My Pure Barre Obsession

As a dancer, I am always looking for new workouts the increase both strength and flexibility.  I have the tendency to get bore easily, so I like to do challenging activities that are not monotonous.  Sipping a cappuccino at my favorite coffee hangout, The Pannikin in La Jolla, I overheard a vary fit woman speaking to a young man about a workout called cardio barre.  She mentioned that she taught at Pure Barre in downtown La Jolla.  Staring with a hint of jealousy at her  fab abs and tight tush, I vowed to try the class, and that is how I found myself in socks, shorts, and a tank at nine in the morning wishing our perky instructor could go to hell as thats where I felt I was. Ten minutes into warm up and I was sweating bullets, confused as to how the masses of fit La Jolla moms could stay so dry.  I couldn’t understand how the two lb weights felt so heavy in my hands, when I bench a whole lot more than that at the gym.  Finally, I’m a dancer, I can do almost anything, so why was this workout so hard?  One class, two hot baths, 3 advils, and I was completely addicted.

Grab a pair of socks and try it for yourself:

Cheaters Never Prosper
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Cheaters Never Prosper

Diet news on day fifteen.  Yes I am now over two weeks into this diet.  As my lack of a scale and adequate mirror prove a barrier to my seeing any kind of improvement, morale is low.  Although I can say that my jeans felt a bit loose yesterday, it was possibly a hopeful figment of my imagination.

As I have mentioned previously, restricting my diet to protein and nonfat milk products in Fiji has been more than difficult, and I have had to adjust the Dukan Diet to suit my needs, in other words allow small quantities of sauces and exchange skim milk for low-fat (as non-fat milk products don’t exist here).  On the bright side, my stores of oat bran and stevia (smuggled from the US) seem to be holding up quite nicely, and my hunger levels are at an all time low.  Sweets, fruit, and desert have been replaced by yogurt, milk, and giant cappuccinos sweetened with stevia when I have a sugar craving.

Having felt slightly down with a case of jetlag, culture shock, loneliness, possible pms, and the all-around traveling blues I allowed myself to be swayed last night into a dinner that fell slightly outside the restrictions of my protein only diet that day.  Eschewing the safe local Japanese restaurant for the highly dangerous Indian one due to the masses, I fell into a tough ordering decision.  I chose a fish tikka as my entrée, a dish that listed no ingredients outside my diet restrictions.  Being a smart eater as well as a cook myself, I should have realized that there were hidden carbs that would sit untouched in my stomach the entire night.  I blame the jetlag, long workday, and/or extreme pre-dinner hunger I was feeling at the moment.  My meal arrived and contained no telltale traces of high carb coconut milk or yogurt typically included in curry.  I left my rice portion untouched for the others at my table and resisted the urge to order a plain lassi, but that was the extent of my self-control and proceeded to eat every bit of my fabulous fish tikka.

I must say, it was a nice change and an all-around fabulous meal, but not worth my rocketing blood sugars that left me with a sleepless night and bad attitude.  Lesson learned and a repeat of protein day to set myself back on track… Discipline!!!!

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Hopping on the Dukan Bandwagon

About a week prior to my departure to Fiji, I decided to hop on the fad diet bandwagon.  My diet of choice was the Dukan diet, a diet that has been marketed as the secret to why French women are and stay so skinny…  as well as Carole and possibly Kate Middleton.  Although many warn against restricting your diet too heavily, I felt that this high protein, low fat, and very low carb diet was a safe bet, that had the included potential of decreasing my daily insulin dosage, and dare I hope lower my Hemoglobin A1C.

The first day of the attack phase was surprisingly easy.  Avid dieters know that the first few days is when a dieter’s motivation is at its peak.  By the third day of my calculated five-day attack phase, I was feeling tired and (excuse me) slightly constipated as my dear friend Dr. Dukan warns.  Increasing my coffee drinking as well as purchasing and coarser higher fiber brand of oat bran helped me with these two issues.

Although a 20 minute walk every day is a mandatory component of the diet, the dear Dr. warns against strenuous activity during the first phase of the diet.  Having been an aggressive athlete who is addicted to exercise, I did not heed this advice and continued my 1-2 hours of cardio plus 1 hour purebarre workout regimen.  The effects were lower blood sugars… a lot lower.  To combat these bouncing lows, I made sure to eat my yogurt and oat bran allowance pre-workout and drink two 8-ounce glasses of milk post workout.  I also lowered my basal rate during the day to adjust to my new extremely low-carb lifestyle.  This seemed to do the trick.

So, let’s review my progress.

Starting date: July 14, 2011

Starting weight: 158 lbs

Weight July 19th post attack phase: 154!

Starting average units humalog/day: 40

Average since July 14: 27.5

Everything seemed on track as Dukan claimed I should lose 3 lbs (mostly water weight) in the initial phase.

Current weight: Unsure.  As I am in Fiji living in a hotel without a scale, I’ll have to see when I return home.  My bloodsugars seem to be more stable and in control, and I seem to use a lot less insulin…  My analysis is that it is so far successful.

Another problem I have is simply following the diet abroad.  Tonight I tried to eat only the fish in my fish curry as I am on one of my protein only days…  It is proving very difficult, and I find that I have semi cheated at least once a day, usually in the form of sauces accompanying my meal.  Thank god white meat and fish is a staple in Pacific cuisine!!!!

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Tips on Surviving when you don’t Exactly Fit In

“Bella!  Di dove sei?”  ”Eh barbie!  How can you be so beautiful?”

You would think that I would be used to it judging by how many countries I’ve visited where light hair is somewhat of a commodity.  Guess what, I’m not!  Not being able to fit in with the masses comes with its own set of annoyances, such as catcallers and scammers.  Two groups of people I’m not quite fond of.  Living in Italy, where pretty much anything with legs gets attention, I learned a little trick my friends lovingly refer to as the bitch face.

Everyone knows that if you want to get somewhere fast, attention on the street hinders your path.  As I am perpetually tardy, getting where I need to be quickly is key to my success as well as my sanity.  As blending in with the dark haired and dark complexioned is somewhat of a challenge (without hair dye and major self tanner), I usually paste on the “bitch face.”

It is a no-nonsense, serious, purposeful expression.  Eyes are alert and pointed straight ahead no distractions.  It’s unsmiling, but in no way angry.  Accompanied by a purposeful walk I hope it shouts, “I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m busy and in a hurry.  Please don’t mess with me now, as I may trample you.”  The walk is fast the stride long.  In action the “bitch face” is about 95% effective, unless faced with Sicilian boys wielding spray.

Warning, should not be attempted in dense crowds or at social gatherings.  If overused may harm your social life.

Me, Myself, and My Diabetes
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Me, Myself, and My Diabetes

“You can’t eat that!”  “Aren’t you allergic to sugar?” “Why do you wear a pace maker?” “What songs do you listen to on that?” “How many steps does your pedometer read?” “Please turn off your pager!”

I am Julie Hooper and I have type 1 (juvenile) diabetes.  These are all misguided questions I get on a regular basis concerning my diabetes.  Yes, I usually can eat that I just have to give myself insulin for it, because no I am not allergic to sugar, a compound by the way which is in pretty much every edible substance besides perhaps egg whites.  No, I don’t wear a pacemaker.  I wish my pump could play music and counted my steps but it can’t (Minimed here’s an idea).  Yes I can take it off I just have to unzip my pants first, and didn’t pagers become obsolete in the past five years particularly with the invention of smart phones?

More and more people have friends or family members with the disease, and less and less do I have to explain why I wear a blue thing that looks slightly like a pager on my hip.  Type 1 diabetes is less common outside of the United States.  In countries like Italy where I lived for a year, type 1 diabetes is extremely prevalent, but in Latin America and the Pacific type 2 diabetes is rampant while type 1 is relatively nonexistent.  Explaining why I have to be rude and refuse that extremely tasty looking fried carby morsel becomes an ordeal that usually ends in the misguided understanding that I can’t eat sugar.

As a diabetic international travel can be a taxing experience.  Not only do you have to worry about maintaining a stable blood sugar sitting for hours on long flights with unhealthy carb-loaded food, but then there are time changes and wacky hormones when you land, not to mention the complete change of schedule.  If there is one thing that can prove more difficult than a change of schedule to a diabetic, that is getting through security without a pat-down or a questioning.  My insulin pump has yet to set off a metal detector, but for some reason I get a slight tingle of nerves as I approach the conveyor and green-lit detector or worse body scanner.  What will it be this time? As I discovered one faithful day at Heathrow, insulin contains a chemical sometimes used in explosives, so it may be better to keep my insulin pump under wraps when making my way through foreign airport security.

Worth the inconvenience!

I was a sixteen-year-old Californian checking out colleges in the UK.  I had finally adjusted to the pat-downs and the questionings regarding my insulin pump and prescription requests.  I thought I was fully prepared for any possible thing that could come my way at airport security.  After all nothing could be more tedious than that time at Charles de Gaulle when the flight attendant had to alert the pilot that I was carrying syringes onboard.  Anything in the name of safety.    I was on a last-minute flight from London to Edinburgh.  I arrived at the airport the standard hour and a half before my flight, printed my boarding pass, and headed to the medium length line for security.  I methodically removed my computer and the canister that housed my insulin with 3 ice cubes and placed it open on the conveyor belt.  I calmly possibly with a hint of boredom headed through the metal detector without so much as a beep, not realizing that my pump was on display not even slightly covered by my t-shirt.  Airport security asked what it was and swabbed it to send through their machine.  They returned a few moments later and calmly asked me to follow them in a small questioning room.  I left my mom and friend waiting at security with shocked expressions on their faces as I followed the woman into a small room where she patted me down and gave me a form to fill out.  When I had finished she asked me questions about the function of my insulin pump asking to see where it connected and the prescriptions that I carried for insulin.  She tensed in fear when I disconnected my pump so she could examine it if she liked, and inquiring as to why I was being questioned.  Her response shocked me more than the entire situation.  She responded, “Our test came up for explosive material.”  How could I respond?  My pump delivers insulin.  It is in no way an explosive.  I told them that they could x-ray my pump if that would prove that it is just a medical device.  They were shocked at that and immediately sent it through the machine.  The x-ray results proved my truthfulness and I was free to head to my gate finally.  The whole process took about twenty minutes, and I was flying along the North Sea.