The other day I was at a birthday party sitting with some younger women. They were having a conversation. It's not the type of conversation I'm used to hearing at parties, but it went something like this:
"Are you still getting your WIC?"
"No. I can't get that anymore. I guess I make too much money at my job now, and I don't qualify." Then this woman who I'll call Brenda lamented the fact that she could not get financial support from the government while I sat back thinking, not understanding her point of view, and silent, because I had no idea what to say.
Brenda has a decent job, and so does her husband. They're in their young twenties, so they don't make a lot, but they probably bring in at least $3000 a month, more than I did at that age. As I listened I was wondering this...why would someone want to be on welfare? Wouldn't a woman be proud that she now has a job and also has a good man, so that she and he can support their family without being dependent on social programs? I would be embarrassed to receive welfare benefits and would be proud to be independent of the welfare system, once I got on my feet. I would be grateful for my good fortune and eager to support myself, because isn't it beautiful when you have your own success and make your own money? Doesn't that make you somehow more adult and more of a complete person? When you can proudly say, "Look at what I have and look how hard I am working for it. I got to where I am because of my own ambition and hard work."
What happened to working hard and feeling good about the fruits of our labor?
Welfareinfo.org defines welfare programs as "state regulated programs for those who live under the minimum accepted level means as determined by each state government." These programs include cash assistance (TANF), child support and aid with child care, energy or utility assistance, food assistance (Foodstamps and WIC), assistance in paying medical bills and help getting a new job.
Many people, including myself, believe that the U.S. is growing into a welfare state, and, therefore, many of our citizens are buying into what is commonly known as the welfare mentality. Instead of being happy to support ourselves, many in society have become like babies, dependent upon our mother government for sustenance. If we can just make little enough money, we will qualify, qualify, qualify. For all kinds of programs. Most of our medical bills will be paid, we will get food for our children and even foodstamps to feed ourselves. And every new child we give birth to isn't so bad, because child = money. Welfare also means free preschool, free or reduced daycare, and free or reduced housing.
According to Udo Hoffman in his blog "The Welfare Mentality", "The welfare mentality is the state of mind where a person is afraid of losing a “benefit” they perceive themselves having in order to gain something they do not yet understand as being a greater benefit." So welfare recipients, he believes, don't understand that their is something better than government support? Is this true?
It is a greater benefit to support yourself. You have more freedom to decide. You get to decide where to live, where to send your children to school, what you and your children eat, where and when to go to the doctor, who takes care of your child. And people who support themselves feel better about themselves. We are not stuck in situations with abusive, alcoholic men, and we don't have to worry about where the money will come from when we run out.
But as someone who has never accepted welfare or who has even considered living on it, I have to admit that I will always see those on welfare as "them" and me and the others who choose to work for our living as "us". Of course there are those who experience temporary financial issues and must accept government aid for awhile. To me this is acceptable, but the use of the goverment as a lifetime crutch is unacceptable to me. To me, this reliance on a Big Brother, Mommy Government system, whatever you want to call it, is pathetic and promotes an unhealthy country of co-dependent babies.
But what should we do? Welfare began as a system to help those in need during the Great Depression, so that they could get on their feet again and, in a few months or years, once again be financially independent. Even the welfareinfo.com website states that people who apply for welfare benefits cannot receive them unless they are committed to self-sufficiency in the future. So what went wrong? Until I looked into it, I thought, like most people, that the system was irreparably broken.
But what I found out will surprise you.
Actually, for most people, welfare is working. Most people (90 pecent, in fact) are on and off welfare within a year, according to the Urban Institute. Some people use welfare intermittently, when they lose a job. The smallest group, less than 10 percent, stays in the system for a long time. And this group is the most tragic and probably the one I deal with the most. These are the women that turn to welfare before age 25. They are likely to have a very low level of education, and they have a hard time leaving the system.
And these were the women I heard talking. They are 1) minority 2) high school educated and 3) under 25. They are the "group" so to speak, most likely to receive welfare benefits for the long term. I, on the other hand, am 41, college educated, and white. How can I compare myself? I have had a job since 16, have never been laid off, and had my first child at 29. Not a likely candidate for welfare. Therefore, I will never relate. But can I empathize? Sure. And can I impact the welfare system? Sure. That is now one of my golas. By motivating nd believing in the girls I teach, they may get their education. I will continue to cheer them on as they go through school and after they graduate, so that they will not become a part of the 10 percent who can never leave the system.
And the next time I witness this conversation, I will react differently. When one young woman bemoans her inabilty to receive welfare benefits because she got a job, I will cheer. And she will look at me, possibly annoyed.
And, no matter her reaction, I will smile back and say, "Good for you! You are now a successful, independent woman. Let's celebrate!"
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Prego-sexy: It's Not What it Used to Be.
Today I went maternity clothes shopping with a friend. It's her first baby and she needed some help deciding what to buy. It's frustrating to be pregnant, because you feel like you're living in someone else's body, and it's expensive to buy a whole new wardrobe. You need to make good choices about what clothes look best on your new, unfamiliar shape.
I know my friend has been frustrated lately, because she's really starting to show and has no clothes that fit in her closet. I offered to help since I've had three babies, and I always have enjoyed shopping for clothes to accentuate whatever body type I have had through the years.
Female bodies change through time and experience, and so do the styles. As we ate lunch, we talked about maternity fashion in the old days. My friend Eva remembered this picture of her mom when she was pregnant. She said, "I'm sure glad styles have changed." Then she described how her mom was wearing a bright blue, boxy maternity dress with matching blue eyeshadow!
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| Simplicity pattern 9419 from 1970. Forty years ago, maternity clothes were difficult to find and expensive to buy, so some women made their own clothes. |
1970. The year I was born. Look at what my mom had to choose from for maternity fashion. Maternity clothes were big and boxy and were meant to hide that place on a woman where the baby was growing. For some reason, a growing baby was meant to be hidden. Pregnancy was some kind of secret, I guess. Of course, at the same time, women chose to feed their babies engineered formula instead of nature's choice-- breast milk.
"The seventies were such a weird time," my friend just said to me. Yeah, they were, weren't they? Weird fashion, weird gas-hogging, enormous cars, weird hair-do's, weird sideburns, glasses, weird drugs. Just weird. Not a very intimate time for mothers and babies.
Of course, I was raised in Iowa, the place where time stops, so my family was probably less affected by 70's weirdness than many others. We were not as influenced by fashion, and people still paid attention to babies and families over partying and drugs.
But, back to fashion-- in 1970, pregnancy, I don't think was considered sexy. Even twelve years ago when I was pregnant with my daughter, the maternity clothes were getting cuter. But I don't think they were sexy.
My last pregnancy was three years ago, and I really loved my maternity clothes. I decided that if my belly was large, it didn't mean all of me had to look like a blimp. I always wore fitted to show off my still thin legs and sleeveless to show off my arms. I was definitely going to accentuate the parts of my body that were still thin. And I was never concerned about someone noticing my pregnant belly. Towards the end, all of my shirts were tight. Of course they were. How could a shirt be loose on a stomach as large as a medium-sized watermelon.
Today, pregnant women have become a sexy thing. In some ways, I think this is good. Pregnancy is not a disease. A pregnant woman is just doing a very natural and truly amazing thing...she's growing a baby inside her body. Why wouldn't that be considered awesome by men and women alike? But maybe looking at a pregnant woman as a sex symbol is a little wrong, too. If you look at the woman with admiration and respect for what she's doing, then good for you. But if you are slobbering and whistling when she walks by, thinking, "She's so hot. Oh, baby!" that's just wrong. Look guys, if that's what you think, then get yourself your own pregnant wife to chase after. That is some other guy's baby in there!
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| A tastefully sexy maternity dress and great boots. Notice how she accentuates her thin legs and arms, and the slimming effect of the black dress can't hurt either. (Pregnancy Fashion/ sheknows.com) |
The real problem is not the tight fitting pregnancy clothes. It's the way our culture views women and the way we women view ourselves. Sometimes I think women feel as if they don't have the right to look fabulous. To me, there is definitely nothing wrong with looking our best in all stages of our lives. And pregnancy should be beautiful. We should all be confident about and really love our growing bodies. We should also be healthy and take care of ourselves and our babies by eating well and exercising. Pregnancy is not a time to sit around, pig out, and grow to hate ourselves. Pregnant women are known for looking extremely happy and alive, so flaunt it while you've got it, girls
I've seen so many women use pregnancy as an excuse to frump out and become the size of a submarine. But wouldn't it be better to buy yourselves some pretty clothes and recognize it is an even more important time to take care of your bodies? You are doing a great thing. Becoming a mother is a pretty important step in your life. Enjoy being pregnant today..in a time when you are free to look beautiful with clothes that don't hide the cute bump that is your baby.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
It's a Long Way to the Library
Usually when I take my daily run/ walk, I go alone. I walk to the end of the driveway, then start running down my street and about eight blocks until I exit my neighborhood. By then, I'm ready for a break, so I walk a little bit and then start running again. By this time, I'm half way to the library. The whole trip takes me about 30 minutes tops.
But today was different. Today I brought the kids, and today it was a walk...the whole way. We left the driveway. Ricky was in the stroller and Vicente was running ahead. As we left, I warned him, "Don't run so much. You're going to be tired, and you won't be able to walk all the way there." But of course he's a five-year-old boy and believing his mother is not at the top of his list. He continued to run ahead, then run back, and to play a game of dodge the stroller as he ran toward Ricky and me, every single time.
So, by the time we had walked five blocks and were just past his elementary school, Vicente whined, "I'm thirsty. Can I have the water?" I guess I must be known to my children as the water bearer, because if there is one thing I never fail to do, it's to carry water everywhere I go. I always have my bottle with me. In the car. On the way to the park. As I ride my bike. But not today. (I left my water bottle in my friend's car last week.)
"I told you not to run so much. I don't have water with me." My tone was one of frustration but I'm sure it came across to him as one of annoyance with him, when I was actually annoyed with myself that I had forgotten water. Because of my lack of planning, I would have to listen to him go on and on for the next four to five blocks. And that he did. He acted like he couldn't go on. He slowed down, he threw his head back, he acted as if he was near fainting, huffing and gagging and scuffing his feet along. THIRST leaked out of his every pore.
We mothers all know when drama is about to blow up in our faces. Vicente could potentially have a fit at any moment and ruin our trip if I didn't handle this correctly. So I dialed my husband who I thought was nearby. "Talk to your dad," I said, passing my son the phone.
When he didn't answer, I called him back again. He didn't have any water, he wasn't nearby, and he proceeded to lecture me about not taking the kids because we had to walk next to a busy street for a few blocks. He always says he doesn't trust drivers and is afraid they'll drive up onto the sidewalk and kill us all. I'm sure that paranoia comes from growing up in Mexico and seeing so much death and lack of value for human life. I get it, but all the same I think he's crazy and if I listen to him we really won't get to live our lives to the fullest and get to do some of the fun things we want to do. So I hung up the phone, rolled my eyes, and we walked on.
As we continued on, I reassured Vicente over and over that water was near. We were now only a couple of blocks away from quenching our thirst. But it was taking so LONG. We were just turning and walking next to the busy street, and it had taken us at least 15 minutes. Usually, this takes me about five.
We plodded on and on, and we were finally near Subway when we saw the Family Dollar. We parked the stroller and went inside. They only had huge bottles of water, so Vicente chose vitamin water and Ricky a Coke. Ricky also wanted chips, but I said no because we were going to eat at a Chinese restaurant that I wanted to try on the way. We left the Family Dollar and now both kids were walking and I was pushing the stroller. Ten minutes later, we were finally at the restaurant. We ordered one plate for us all, and Vicente decided when the food came, he wasn't even hungry. He had been so thirsty, he finished the water off in less than five minutes.
We had left the house at 1:00. Finally, at 3:00, we reached the library. I couldn't fathom how a 30 minute trip could take two hours. But, I guess that's life with kids for you.
Once in the library, Vicente and Ricky fought over a book and I had to threaten to take away the play station for the second time in two days. But the kids did calm down, we checked out books, and luckily my husband came to pick us up in the van. It would not have been fun to have walked back home.
What a long, tiring walk. Why do we parents do these things anyway?
My answer came over dinner when Ricky looked up at me and said in his own excited little way, "Mom, I had fun today at the library." Now I understood. It didn't matter to him that it was a long way there. The trip made my favorite three-year-old's day. And Ricky's proud smile was the only reassurance I needed to know that the long library trip was 100% worth the trouble.
But today was different. Today I brought the kids, and today it was a walk...the whole way. We left the driveway. Ricky was in the stroller and Vicente was running ahead. As we left, I warned him, "Don't run so much. You're going to be tired, and you won't be able to walk all the way there." But of course he's a five-year-old boy and believing his mother is not at the top of his list. He continued to run ahead, then run back, and to play a game of dodge the stroller as he ran toward Ricky and me, every single time.
So, by the time we had walked five blocks and were just past his elementary school, Vicente whined, "I'm thirsty. Can I have the water?" I guess I must be known to my children as the water bearer, because if there is one thing I never fail to do, it's to carry water everywhere I go. I always have my bottle with me. In the car. On the way to the park. As I ride my bike. But not today. (I left my water bottle in my friend's car last week.)
"I told you not to run so much. I don't have water with me." My tone was one of frustration but I'm sure it came across to him as one of annoyance with him, when I was actually annoyed with myself that I had forgotten water. Because of my lack of planning, I would have to listen to him go on and on for the next four to five blocks. And that he did. He acted like he couldn't go on. He slowed down, he threw his head back, he acted as if he was near fainting, huffing and gagging and scuffing his feet along. THIRST leaked out of his every pore.
We mothers all know when drama is about to blow up in our faces. Vicente could potentially have a fit at any moment and ruin our trip if I didn't handle this correctly. So I dialed my husband who I thought was nearby. "Talk to your dad," I said, passing my son the phone.
When he didn't answer, I called him back again. He didn't have any water, he wasn't nearby, and he proceeded to lecture me about not taking the kids because we had to walk next to a busy street for a few blocks. He always says he doesn't trust drivers and is afraid they'll drive up onto the sidewalk and kill us all. I'm sure that paranoia comes from growing up in Mexico and seeing so much death and lack of value for human life. I get it, but all the same I think he's crazy and if I listen to him we really won't get to live our lives to the fullest and get to do some of the fun things we want to do. So I hung up the phone, rolled my eyes, and we walked on.
As we continued on, I reassured Vicente over and over that water was near. We were now only a couple of blocks away from quenching our thirst. But it was taking so LONG. We were just turning and walking next to the busy street, and it had taken us at least 15 minutes. Usually, this takes me about five.
We plodded on and on, and we were finally near Subway when we saw the Family Dollar. We parked the stroller and went inside. They only had huge bottles of water, so Vicente chose vitamin water and Ricky a Coke. Ricky also wanted chips, but I said no because we were going to eat at a Chinese restaurant that I wanted to try on the way. We left the Family Dollar and now both kids were walking and I was pushing the stroller. Ten minutes later, we were finally at the restaurant. We ordered one plate for us all, and Vicente decided when the food came, he wasn't even hungry. He had been so thirsty, he finished the water off in less than five minutes.
We had left the house at 1:00. Finally, at 3:00, we reached the library. I couldn't fathom how a 30 minute trip could take two hours. But, I guess that's life with kids for you.
Once in the library, Vicente and Ricky fought over a book and I had to threaten to take away the play station for the second time in two days. But the kids did calm down, we checked out books, and luckily my husband came to pick us up in the van. It would not have been fun to have walked back home.
What a long, tiring walk. Why do we parents do these things anyway?
My answer came over dinner when Ricky looked up at me and said in his own excited little way, "Mom, I had fun today at the library." Now I understood. It didn't matter to him that it was a long way there. The trip made my favorite three-year-old's day. And Ricky's proud smile was the only reassurance I needed to know that the long library trip was 100% worth the trouble.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Caution: Hippos Eat Kids!
This week is Spring Break for my kids and me, so we decided to go to the Denver Zoo. My daughter is 11 and my two little boys are five and three, so they were all excited to go. I was excited, too, because since my youngest is getting closer to four it is getting easier to take him places. Today was a very nice day...about 75 degrees and sunny. It would be a great day just to get outside and enjoy the weather.
At first, we were moving from cage to fenced-in area to glass-encased exhibit admiring the animals. It was all quite surface level as we moved through the zoo. But after we saw the crocodile and all of the spiders, bugs, and snakes, my five-year-old Vicente admitted that he was scared of some of the animals. And then we got to the hippopotomus. For some odd reason, half way through the zoo, Vicente decided that I needed to read the plaque highlighting the important information about each animal. Now I remember how it started. My three-year-old Ricky was climbing on the fence to the hippo area and was close to falling inside. So I said, "You'd better get off of the fence, Ricky. I've heard that hippos eat kids!" Oh, Stephanie, why did you say that?
We continued on. We got to the rhinos next. Here were the questions: What do Rhinos eat? Where do rhinos live? Who would win a fight between a rhino and a hippo? After reading that rhinos are 1,000 to 2,000 pounds lighter than hippos, we decided that a hippo would come out on top. We also found out that rhinos are endangered. There are only 3,500 of them left, because they are hunted for their horns. Of course Vicente asked why and I showed him the picture. The horns are used to make ceremonial necklaces for the local tribes.
Five hours after returning home from the zoo, the animal conversation began again. "Mom, we forgot to see the penguins," Vicente said as he was sitting at the table eating a late dinner of breadless tuna salad while I cleaned up the dinner dishes.
"We didn't forget," I told him. It was just the end of the three and a half hour trip, we were all tired and cranky, and we were hurrying to get out of the zoo, get to the car, and head for home. "We didn't really see the polar bears, either," I pointed out. The polar bears were sleeping. He asked why and I explained that they were probably hot...they're used to colder weather.
Vicente was very concerned about the ice melting on our planet, about polar bears dying. That's when he said to me, "Animals are more important than us." And I thought, yes, animals are important. Maybe not more important than us. But at least as important as us. And when one species of animal dies or is missing from its natural habitat, it fouls up the ecosystem. If spiders die, we will have too many mosqitoes, if cows die, one of our important food sources will be destroyed. I remember when I was young, my grandfather told me that we would have a problem if we kept using so many pesticides on crops, because pesticides were killing bees who were a necessary element in the pollenation of corn.
It was nice for my kids to see the animals that we love so much, but as we reflected, Vicente and I agreed that animals are better off in the wild than in a cage. And that sometimes we think animals are nicer than people. Vicente taught me today to always ask questions and continue learning about animals and to look at life through the eyes of a child. Animals are important. And maybe we should be in awe of a 5,000 pound hippo, so much in awe that we recognize his power and that he may be able to kill a child. But at the same time, with the same respect, maybe we should give him the chance to live out his life free and wild.
And maybe, because animals don't have the resources that we have, we should make it our mission to take care of them. Didn't God tell Adam and Eve that they were in charge of the animals?
What would our world be like if we really cared about animals? Would animals live in zoos? Would we keep animals as pets? Would we kill all animals or just those that we needed for food or those that we needed to defend ourselves from?
(Sorry to all hippos, for saying they eat kids. Hippos don't eat kids. They are herbivores who eat grass and water plants.)
At first, we were moving from cage to fenced-in area to glass-encased exhibit admiring the animals. It was all quite surface level as we moved through the zoo. But after we saw the crocodile and all of the spiders, bugs, and snakes, my five-year-old Vicente admitted that he was scared of some of the animals. And then we got to the hippopotomus. For some odd reason, half way through the zoo, Vicente decided that I needed to read the plaque highlighting the important information about each animal. Now I remember how it started. My three-year-old Ricky was climbing on the fence to the hippo area and was close to falling inside. So I said, "You'd better get off of the fence, Ricky. I've heard that hippos eat kids!" Oh, Stephanie, why did you say that?
We continued on. We got to the rhinos next. Here were the questions: What do Rhinos eat? Where do rhinos live? Who would win a fight between a rhino and a hippo? After reading that rhinos are 1,000 to 2,000 pounds lighter than hippos, we decided that a hippo would come out on top. We also found out that rhinos are endangered. There are only 3,500 of them left, because they are hunted for their horns. Of course Vicente asked why and I showed him the picture. The horns are used to make ceremonial necklaces for the local tribes.
Five hours after returning home from the zoo, the animal conversation began again. "Mom, we forgot to see the penguins," Vicente said as he was sitting at the table eating a late dinner of breadless tuna salad while I cleaned up the dinner dishes.
"We didn't forget," I told him. It was just the end of the three and a half hour trip, we were all tired and cranky, and we were hurrying to get out of the zoo, get to the car, and head for home. "We didn't really see the polar bears, either," I pointed out. The polar bears were sleeping. He asked why and I explained that they were probably hot...they're used to colder weather.
Vicente was very concerned about the ice melting on our planet, about polar bears dying. That's when he said to me, "Animals are more important than us." And I thought, yes, animals are important. Maybe not more important than us. But at least as important as us. And when one species of animal dies or is missing from its natural habitat, it fouls up the ecosystem. If spiders die, we will have too many mosqitoes, if cows die, one of our important food sources will be destroyed. I remember when I was young, my grandfather told me that we would have a problem if we kept using so many pesticides on crops, because pesticides were killing bees who were a necessary element in the pollenation of corn.
It was nice for my kids to see the animals that we love so much, but as we reflected, Vicente and I agreed that animals are better off in the wild than in a cage. And that sometimes we think animals are nicer than people. Vicente taught me today to always ask questions and continue learning about animals and to look at life through the eyes of a child. Animals are important. And maybe we should be in awe of a 5,000 pound hippo, so much in awe that we recognize his power and that he may be able to kill a child. But at the same time, with the same respect, maybe we should give him the chance to live out his life free and wild.
And maybe, because animals don't have the resources that we have, we should make it our mission to take care of them. Didn't God tell Adam and Eve that they were in charge of the animals?
What would our world be like if we really cared about animals? Would animals live in zoos? Would we keep animals as pets? Would we kill all animals or just those that we needed for food or those that we needed to defend ourselves from?
(Sorry to all hippos, for saying they eat kids. Hippos don't eat kids. They are herbivores who eat grass and water plants.)
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Eat Your Veggies!
I remember being a kid and my mom telling me to eat my veggies (along with all of those potatoes, gravy, and Iowa sweet corn). Was she just saying this for my health? Maybe. Because when you're 10 years old, you don't really have to worry that carbs = fat. But now that I'm over 40, I do have to worry. A co-worker once told me that once I turned 40, I would have to watch my weight. At the time, I was about 32 years old, had just gone through a divorce, and weighed in at a whopping 128 pounds, wore a size four, and never imagined that weight gain could actually happen to me.
But it did, and that's why I'm here, I guess, writing about veggies. Veggies. My son told me today that I had been snacking on carrots and fresh broccoli a lot the past few days. That is true. My best friend is on a juice fast (a diet of only juice and fruit...mostly juice) and I realized that after the winter and after eating too many tortillas and too many quick maruchan lunches, it's time to give up the starches and start caring what I put into this body.
How many calories are in a tortilla anyway? Or maruchans? Or cookies? Because heaven knows we can never just sit down and eat one of any of them. According to howmanycalories in.com, a flour tortilla has 110 calories and 15.2 grams of carbs. Ramen noodles have 14.1 calories but 36.8 grams of carbs. A homemade chocolate chip cookie has 12 calories but 36.2 grams of carbs. (Ugh!) Most store bought cookies have between 7 and 10 calories each and about 17 grams of carbs, but do you ever eat just one? I know I don't.
And as far as calories are concerned, I know you have to eat about 1800 a day or less if you want to lose weight, but I don't understand carbohydrates. I know I should be concerned about them, but why? What do all of these numbers mean?
This is the answer. There are two kinds of carbohydrates-- the nice ones and the evil, nasty ones. The nasty ones bulge your waist and give you diabetes when you get to be about 55. They are the BAD CARBS.
It was humorpam from the caloriecount at about.com who let me in on this detail, answering my question. She said that I should care about good carbs or bad carbs. Bad carbs include processed foods and white everything. (Pasta, bread, ice cream, and on and on...), and good carbs are whole grains, nuts, fruits and veggies. VEGGIES!
So I WILL eat my veggies, Mom. And I will stay away from maruchans and tortillas and cookies. Thanks humorpam.
If you want whole grain cookies, which I made just yesterday as I was cooking dinner, check out Bob's Red Mill Oatmeal for the recipe on the bag. Now, will someone please tell me where I can get a recipe for some tasty whole grain tortillas?
But it did, and that's why I'm here, I guess, writing about veggies. Veggies. My son told me today that I had been snacking on carrots and fresh broccoli a lot the past few days. That is true. My best friend is on a juice fast (a diet of only juice and fruit...mostly juice) and I realized that after the winter and after eating too many tortillas and too many quick maruchan lunches, it's time to give up the starches and start caring what I put into this body.
How many calories are in a tortilla anyway? Or maruchans? Or cookies? Because heaven knows we can never just sit down and eat one of any of them. According to howmanycalories in.com, a flour tortilla has 110 calories and 15.2 grams of carbs. Ramen noodles have 14.1 calories but 36.8 grams of carbs. A homemade chocolate chip cookie has 12 calories but 36.2 grams of carbs. (Ugh!) Most store bought cookies have between 7 and 10 calories each and about 17 grams of carbs, but do you ever eat just one? I know I don't.
And as far as calories are concerned, I know you have to eat about 1800 a day or less if you want to lose weight, but I don't understand carbohydrates. I know I should be concerned about them, but why? What do all of these numbers mean?
This is the answer. There are two kinds of carbohydrates-- the nice ones and the evil, nasty ones. The nasty ones bulge your waist and give you diabetes when you get to be about 55. They are the BAD CARBS.
It was humorpam from the caloriecount at about.com who let me in on this detail, answering my question. She said that I should care about good carbs or bad carbs. Bad carbs include processed foods and white everything. (Pasta, bread, ice cream, and on and on...), and good carbs are whole grains, nuts, fruits and veggies. VEGGIES!
So I WILL eat my veggies, Mom. And I will stay away from maruchans and tortillas and cookies. Thanks humorpam.
If you want whole grain cookies, which I made just yesterday as I was cooking dinner, check out Bob's Red Mill Oatmeal for the recipe on the bag. Now, will someone please tell me where I can get a recipe for some tasty whole grain tortillas?
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