I say to that, me too.

Here are some of the fitness fads from 2010. I didn’t try all of them, but boy did they seem interesting.

Ganja Yoga:Yoga and marijuana, together?” Ms. Pillay says, “it’s like putting salt on your food. It’s just a little enhancement.” So they say. Thankfully the yoga fad doesn’t seem to be going away; yoga has many great benefits for both mind and body. It morphed in interesting ways. Popular of late are Hot Yoga, Hip-Hop Yoga, Circus Yoga and Ganja Yoga. Yeah, puff puff, pass… and stretch.

Boot Camp Workouts: This workout remains a favorite amongst those that like to experience pleasure and pain of group exercise. I didn’t try this one, but a friend did and she still runs a couple of miles everyday.

Wii Fit: Okay I thought this was a good idea for the tween and I. Gamer fitness has been selling well thanks to tie-ins from popular TV shows like Biggest Loser and the very sexy Jillian Michaels. What I have to say that while Wii Tennis is fun, real tennis is better.

Dance Fitness: What I like about Zumba, Afro-Cuban and Hip Hop dance class is that it breaks you out of the “feel the burn” exercise ho hum. Perhaps made more popular by shows like DWTS or SYTYCD (Dancing With The Stars or So You Think You Can Dance) I have to say that Bristol Palin almost ruined this one for me. Watching her stomp around the dance floor as if she were born without knees was just painful.

Pole Dancing or Flirty Girl Fitness: Stripper chic has hit an all time high and I’m getting a bit tired of get-it-girl glamour and now fitness. This might be heating up the bedrooms, but strapping on 3-inch heels to workout doesn’t work for me.

Shape Ups: I got hooked into this one. Just a pair of shoes and a nice high butt is mine! Any pair of shoes and brisk walk will do the trick.

Okay, here’s what you came here for, get your hindquarters out of 1st gear and make good food choices! Live well friends and Happy New Year.

Aunt B

Within the past year, Mama has given away fruit trees at local Farmer’s Markets, a tree for everyone who friends her on Facebook and reusable grocery bags to those of you who made a pledge to help out BP with that devastatingly nasty oil spill. Mama is a dog lover too and will feature adoptable pets on this site and will collect and give blankets to local shelters. Yeah it’s a horn, it’s Mama’s and I’m tootin’ it.

Philanthropy is good. Giving feels good, better than receiving most of the time. Oprah challenged her readers to think about giving this way. If you are going to buy a $50 gift, use $25 towards a gift and donate the other $25 to a charity in that person’s name. Well, yes I invoked Oprah, but that’s because like Mama, giving is one of her favorite things.

So what if we were to try that this season? Here are some of my favorite places to give too, these are places that help women, families, animals and the planet. Mama approved, of course.

Kiva-means “unity” in Swahili and was founded in October 2005 by Matt Flannery and Jessica Jackley. Kiva allows lenders to microfinance entrepreneurs in developing countries. The money is paid back to you and you have the option of reinvesting.

Americare- with 99% of its funding going to programs, Americare provides help when disasters or violent conflict happens in the U.S. or abroad.

V-Day- V-day works to end violence against women and girls worldwide.

First Book- addresses literacy by providing books to children to keep. I like their tag line, “Don’t you remember your first book?”

Actors and Others for Animals – with 93% of its funding going towards programs, AOA subsidizes spaying and neutering and helps pet guardians living on low or fixed incomes care for their animals.

- Aunt B

10 years as a 9-1-1 operator told me the answer to all of those questions is yes. Abusers are rich and poor and middle class or somewhere in between. One trait they all share is that the abuser usually come across as arrogant, however they actually feel very inadequate and want to remain in control. One thing I know for sure is that domestic violence happens in every strata of society. I’ve taken calls from the wives of celebrities and police officers. No race or socio-economic class is immune.

As a 9-1-1 operator, most of the calls I took that required the police involved domestic violence. And according to the American Bar Association (ABA):

• Approximately 1.3 million women and 835,000 men are physically assaulted by an intimate partner annually in the United States.
• In 2000, 1,247 women and 440 men were killed by an intimate partner. In recent years, an intimate partner killed approximately 33% of female murder victims and 4% of male murder victims.

Those statistics are appalling.

What’s wrong with us? What do we need to do and say to our young boys so they don’t feel inadequate and powerless? What safeguards can we put in our educational system to let young me know that it is never okay to hit a woman?

Finally, men are not the only abusers. Coming up, women who abuse men and how to leave an abuser.

Chime in.

- Aunt B

A recent study published in the Archives of Internal Medicine, tracked 17 barbershops and found that men who had their blood pressure checked when they went to get a haircut were “far more likely to see a doctor and get their blood pressure under control.” There were 17 shops that participated in the study. Eight of those shops distributed pamphlets. The other nine took things further and actually checked the blood pressure of their patrons and offered free services for those that came back with a prescription. Here’s where it gets good. At the end of the study more than half of those participating had their blood pressure under control. I would add this type of service can create stronger and more loyal customers. And customers that live longer too.

People visit the hairdresser or the barbershop every two to three weeks. Having a blood pressure screening with someone that you “visit” with that often will certainly keep the issue at the top of the list. And you will be encouraged by these same people to do something about it.

How innovative, how health conscious, what a great idea!

Source: Science Daily

- Aunt B

*According to the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) parents should allow no more than 2 hours of DVDs, computers and video games or television screen time for pre-school age children. While many parents to monitor screen time at home time, a recent article the Journal of Pediatrics, found that many children are exposed to screen time both at home and while at child care, with more than half exceeding the recommended daily amount.

In the United States a majority of children under the age of 5 spend almost 40 hours a week with caregivers other than their parent. A University of Washington study that interviewed both parents and caregivers found that:

• On average children were exposed to 4 hours of screen time each day, with 3.6 of those hours coming from home.
• Children in home-based childcare spent 5.6 hours watching TV or videos at home and at childcare.
• Children in day care centers fared better with an average screen time of 3.2 hours a day.
• Children who did not attend childcare averaged 4.4 hours a day.
• Children in the Head Start program watched an average of 4.2 hours a day with very little screen time happening at the center. Most of it happened at home.

Too much TV has been linked to speech delays, aggressiveness and obesity. Few states have regulations for child care settings around television viewing so it’s best to have a chat with your caregiver about what goes on when you drop little Sam or Emma off.

So parents, this wasn’t written to criticize your decisions around childcare or your parenting skills, this was written so that you will be informed and are able to advocate/speak up for your child. Sometimes what is easy isn’t always best, and sometimes, it is. You might just need that moment to take a breath. I know I did.

Love your children,

Aunt B

Sheyla Hershey really believes that bigger is better and pumped 1 gallon of silicone into her breasts, giving them the dubious distinctive bra size of 38KKK. It looks like one part of her body has traded places with the other. You tell me.

This isn’t about size or sag though, because this is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, below are some of the latest research results about our mammary glands. Take a look at the good, the bad and of course, the ugly.

Here it is:

• Nearly 74 percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer during pregnancy were still alive five years after being diagnosed, compared to 55 percent of non-pregnant patients, according to researchers at University of Texas M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. Source: U.S.News and World Report.
• The American Cancer Society estimates that in 2008 some 1,990 new cases of breast cancer will be diagnosed among men and about 450 men will die from breast cancer in the United States.
• Vigorous exercise of more than two hours per week reduces the risk of developing breast cancer in postmenopausal African-American women by 64 percent, compared to women of the same race who do not exercise, according to researchers at Georgetown Lombardi Comprehensive Cancer Center.
• The Mercy Medical Center Prevention and Research Center Team created an intervention program that consisted of relaxation techniques (i.e. deep breathing and guided imagery), optimization of nutrition and physical activity, introduction to restorative yoga techniques, and cognitive behavioral therapy to help make positive lifestyle changes for survivors of breast cancer who experience fatigue.

So ladies and gentleman, remember to touch you tatas! Bring lumps, dimpling skin, or itchy areas to your doctor’s attention. See here for how to self-exam. And let’s not go pumping a gallon of silicone into those puppies either. Just sayin’.

- Aunt B

“Don’t get too groovy,” he snapped back.

My current relationship was at the delicate impasse of, ‘this isn’t really what I want but I’m too ____________ (insert choice word here) to move on’. I was hoping that this get-a-way would provide the foot in the *ss needed to reboot my love life. My own five-day “Eat, Pray, Love” is what I was calling it, though unlike Elizabeth, I didn’t have a bunch of time to burn. I am single mom with obligations, and a relationship where I fit my emotions underneath my tongue.

As a believer in God, Spirit, love, magic, thought, prayer, light, hope and intention I took every moment of this trip to reach inside myself and ask what I needed to feel whole again… So I took these steps.

Step 1: I asked my heart to get naked and speak of its desires.
It wanted unconditional love and emotional connection.
It wanted to be cherished and adored, it wanted to be valued and respected.
My heart desired the ritual of family, its own posse of folks to love and call its own.
It desired appreciation for the passionate intellectual spiritual playful love muffin
that I am.

Step 2: I listened to my heart. I didn’t challenge or call it crazy. I treated each desire as
authentic as what needed to feel whole.

Step 3: On my best stationary and with my most flourishing hand, I captured those desires,
recording each longing respectfully, as though spoken from a burning bush.

I felt happy, just knowing what I wanted and giving it some breathing room outside my heart. It’s okay to want to feel cherished and loved, adored and appreciated. Knowing the desires of our own heart is an intimate is an act of love for ourselves, what is more precious?

What are the desires of your heart?

- Aunt B

Who are you to be annoyed?

Who are you to doubt?

Who are you to fear?

You are wonderfully human and prone to disappointment and heartache, loss and suffering. That is what this life is. It’s not so much a walk on the wild side, rather a saunter, a carousel of saints and sinners, winners and losers. The motion is nonstop.

You are annoyed when things change, when the fact is that nothing is permanent. You doubt that change was part of the bargain you made. No need to doubt, it is what life is all about. Make it is a goal to be okay with change.

You want to write the script, to know what’s coming next. You fear the unknown. You fear lack of control. Resisting this feels right somehow. You resist the wrinkle and the sag, the shifting moods and the crazy uncertainty, the success and the failure. Stop resisting.

Somehow you know that the satisfaction you crave comes with a certain curiosity.

You ask:
How do I stay open to change?
How do I stay flexible?
How do I become okay with not knowing?

You get all tingly with the questions and answers. And that’s how you know you got it right. You become playful, you bend easily. You only need to be reminded that you don’t have to figure it all out. You don’t have to figure out who you are or anyone else is for that matter. Relax in the motion of change.

You know that you are limitless, beyond category and definition. You know that discomfort is a part of game. You know when you’re feeling edgy there really is no cure. You know you really have to just go along for the ride. It’s a bumpy one, but that’s what makes it fun. Hold on and smile.

- Aunt B

Something is stuck in mine and it feels like elbows and knees in there, I don’t take lightly to moving stuff around ‘cause I don’t want to disturb what’s in the corner. So I approach softly, my inquiry barely above whisper.

I don’t know about you, but when I am resistant I find it hard to laugh or smile. When people ask me how I am, I lie. And I know that every day that I resist, I feel a tightening, a worry that something bad is going to happen and the more uncomfortable my craw becomes.

My craw is telling me that maybe my intuition is right, that the object of my affection doesn’t deserve my love. My craw is saying that my job is a good fit, but there are other goals I need to pursue. My craw reminds me that being invisible; makes it harder to lead. My craw moves me toward the truth of being me.

When something is stuck in my craw I find it hard to dance. When something is stuck in my craw I can’t see my swag, I only see the darker memories in the corner and I doubt and wonder and am annoyed and bored with all of it.

So I have to get unstuck. Softly. Easily. Remembering that this is softest part of me… and it has fangs.

- Aunt B

“Oh my! Is that a rash or is that long term commitment?”

Though, what I hear most is, “we were okay, before the kids.” Say what?

While the actual making of the blessed event is pretty fun, once that little bugger takes center stage things tend to change. No longer is your honey the apple of your eye, it’s the little bean that steals your self-maintenance time, deprives you of sleep and keeps you working overtime in the decision making, laundry and housework departments. And then there is the other half of the parenting team that just might be feeling a little more pressure to support the family, wants a little leg and a night out with friends. I mean hey, what happened to Dick and Jane?

I wonder.

What people say is that things change after kids. See Dick and Jane. See self-centered Dick. See self-sacrificing Jane. My ex and I fell into these roles easily. It’s what our parents did (before they divorced) and all that I knew. The child came first, I was reluctant to get a sitter, and I was uncomfortable with my after-baby-body. My ex threw himself into work and made little or no effort in the romance department. That baby was driving bus and we were heading toward a cliff. I saw it coming and tried to phone in “I love yous” and send flowers to his job. I asked for a date night. He asked me not to touch him unless we were going to have sex. I began to exercise, but instead of muscles, the only thing that seemed to build was resentment. He planned outings. I didn’t appreciate his efforts because I still had to arrange for a sitter and afterwards tend to the baby. I refused to meet his physical needs and he refused to meet my emotional needs. See self-sacrificing Jane. See self-centered Dick.

I love my child. Don’t get me wrong here.

We both got lazy about meeting each other’s needs and resentment is a hard mother*cker to get rid of. Resentment keeps score and loves a good game of tit-for-tat and we were two competitive fools.

I love my child, but I would do it differently now.

Now, I understand how important it is for her to see affection between two adults, how good it would be for her to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around her. I wish she could’ve seen us treating each other like we did in the beginning, the thoughtfulness, and the niceties. She would actually have a model to follow had either of us been a bit more mature, or our parents had modeld that for us.

Do children ruin relationships? What say you?

- Aunt B

“Sit Bell!” I held my two fingers up then brought them down slowly on top of the two fingers of my opposite hand until they resembled legs hanging over the seat of a chair. When I gave the command, my dog sat, her pink tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. I stood right in front of her. “Now staa—aayy.” My voice rolled on this command, and I began to back away. Her bottom started to wiggle the further away I got. I saw her getting anxious, shifting the weight of her two front paws, one to the other. There were sharp yelps as I moved further and further away.

“Staa—aayy.” I said again.

Like most of us, she didn’t believe she was going to be all right. She was waiting for the trick, the pull of the rug that bowls us over, the bucket of no-so-funny that sits atop a doorway ready to spill just as we pull the knob toward us.

The real trick is the ability to simply witness the chaos, the disappointment, the suffering and the pain and not drink, or drug or shop or sex our way through it, it is the ability to bear witness to the ache and splendor that’s life.

Bell breaks as soon as I reach the doorway, her paws skittering over the wood floor. She jumps on my legs, wanting and needing to be petted, reassured that everything would be okay. I reassure her, take her back to the place where started and begin again.

“Take a breath Bell, everything is okay.” I said while I smoothed my hands over her coat.
At one time or another we are all scared or nervous, angry or anxious. We don’t want to stay because we don’t know what the next moment might bring. And then the next moment comes, sometimes bringing death or regret or hurt. Yes, those feelings are large and unwieldy and that’s when you have to pause and admit to yourself what you’re feeling. And yes it is uncomfortable and yes you will want to have a drink or smoke or shop or sex.
Just like Bell, you’ll go skittering towards what will make you feel better.

That’s okay. Those feelings didn’t go anywhere. Now take yourself back to them. Take a breath and sit with them a moment. Those feelings just want to be acknowledged.

Staa—aay. Good.

- Aunt B

What I love and hate about back-to-school

I love the silent discipline of structure to our day

I hate the “registration round-up,” the annual production of various and sundry bills and documents to prove that I live in this town and that my daughter can go to this school, what a pain in the *ss

I love her nervous smile and how she reaches for my hand on the walk to school

I hate how each year her ‘good-byes’ are quicker once we arrive

I love knowing some of her friends since they were in kindergarten and watching them grow

I hate that every year, I think will be the last time we sing the “good-morning song”

I love the smell of sun and sweat in her hair when I pick her up from school

I hate how quickly the years are going by

This is the Tweenlet’s last year of elementary school, the training wheels came off this summer, with sleep-a-way camp and letting her do more things on her own. My daughter is growing up and I’m feeling a bit of the ‘½ empty nest syndrome’.

I moved to this suburb of Los Angeles just so that she could attend one of California’s Distinguished Schools. An honor given “to public schools within the state that best represent exemplary and quality educational programs.” I looked at private schools first, drooling at the fancy curriculums and shiny afterschool programs. The tuition was the brass ring just out of reach. So I moved where I could afford the rent (barely) but the public schools were great. I didn’t know the time would pass so quickly.

How do you feel about back-to-school? Happy the summer is over or kind of melancholy? Did you opt out of public education? Do you home school? Why?

- Aunt B

For the uninitiated Bethenny Frankel is a woman who writes, stars in her own exercise DVDs, hawks Skinny Girl Margaritas and makes the most excruciatingly healthy food. She is also wife to Jason Hoppy whom I think must be the most adorable man on TV and her latest accomplishment, mom to Bryn.

But this is Mama’s Health and why am I writing about reality TV? And why am I rooting for Bethenny and Jason? Because just as often as Bethenny turns that penetrating eye on those around her, she is just as quick to turn it on herself. What I find healthy is Bethenny’s ability to be herself, even when she is anxious, angry, tearful or hurt. She names what she feels. It isn’t always the right time or place or even directed at the right person, but what you get is exactly what Bethenny is feeling. How refreshing that is compared to the stifled posturing of most of the housewives on the various shows. I’m rooting for Bethenny and Jason because he adores her and it shows, because he gets her drive, her sometimes shrewishness and doesn’t let that intimidate him. I’m rooting for them because even though with all the cameras around it seems as if it’s her train and he’s along for the ride when actually it’s the other way around. She needs his steadiness, his ability to cut through the noise and really hear her. That’s an ‘A’ in communication with your spouse Mr.Hoppy. I’m rooting for Bethenny and Jason because I’m rooting for love.

Love deeply, love well, love long.

- Aunt B

So says Holly Hill, not her real name of course, a one-time mistress turned author of “Sugarbabe” a memoir that details her life after she was dumped by a boyfriend and posted an online ad offering her company, conversation, cooking, massages and of course sex all for $1000 per week.

*cough*

Sounds like prostitution.

*cough*

To that Holly Hill says, “I thought that because I was a 24/7 exclusive mistress that I wasn’t part of the world’s oldest profession, but with hindsight I was, because what I was doing … I was charging men for services, part of which included sex,” says Hill.

Yes of course she had takers! Most of them older wealthy men that were attracted to “Holly’s” pixie face and bright smile and according to her, conversation was what most of the men wanted. In the age of Viagra, I’m a bit surprised.

These books about “open relationships” and being an “Ethical Slut” crop up every so often. Surprisingly (or not) written by women who have been in relationships in which they’ve been jilted. The narrative in all of these books runs the same. Be open and honest about your extracurricular activities with your partner, feel free to sex someone else up, but come home afterwards.

There was a time when all I wanted was a lover (one year post-divorce and 2 years of celibacy!) The conversation on the first date would go like this.

“I’m looking for someone, just for sex. I don’t want to meet your kids, or your mother. I don’t want something heading towards something. I just have an itch that needs to be scratched and I need to be able to call you for that.”

I got a lot of weird looks after that spiel, with most backing out of the door and me never hearing from them again. Perhaps I should have asked for $1000 per week.

When I finally did enter into an agreement with someone, it was great for the first 9 months or so. After that I wanted something different. I wanted the emotional connection I’d eschewed before. I needed it.

So while this might work for Holly Hill, it doesn’t work for Aunt B. So all you ethical sluts and infidelity negotiators can have your sexy sex all over the place with whomever you choose. With all the fancy rules about “not spooning” when it’s just sex or coming home before 3am. Whatever.

I’m exclusive and hoping to find that one person who wants it that way. Or maybe I’m just old-fashioned.

Or maybe it’s okay to let the dog creep through the back fence. It couldn’t have been that great of a dog in the first place.

What say you?

- Aunt B

So when I would come across the occasional book about Moms who sip wine and play dates that included martinis, I would chuckle and think no more of it than that, yes we were Moms, and yes we drank. Didn’t we deserve a moment?

Until this exchange:

“Hey babe, ready for your story? Wanna hear Tikki tikki tembo-no sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo?

“Mom?”

“Yes love?

“Your breath smells like wine.” We were snuggled in her twin bed, sharing her pillow, her head propped against my shoulder. Her feet were warm against mine and she smelled of Ivory soap.

“It does?”

“Yes, all the time.”

Then it became like a scene from “The Sixth Sense.” And there were these moments, it was as if I was sifting through her memory, and in each scene there was a bottle and a glass. Those are not the memories I want her to have.

‘Parenting Under the Influence’ has become this mommy jokey thing that’s actually kind of sad. It makes me wonder why we drink to cope? Shouldn’t we put down the bottle long enough to see what we can let go of? Shouldn’t we demand those moments we deserve from our significant others and not from a bottle of pinot grigio?

Do you parent under the influence?

- Aunt B