Topless in Miami

I got home from my vacation in Miami on Tuesday night, and the highlight of the vacation was definitely the liberating experience I had on the beach.

I’ve always wanted to go to a topless beach but thought the only chance I’d have was during a trip to Europe. If my family weren’t with me, of course. So when I found out that Miami Beach had the only topless beaches in America, I knew it was my chance to give it a shot.

So there we were on the beach across from our hotel on Ocean Drive. I’d told my friend Lisa beforehand that the beaches were topless, and that I was planning on taking advantage. She agreed to try it too. “But you have to go first,” she said.

On our first full day in Miami the sky was partly cloudy, the temp in the upper 70s.

“Is this a topless beach?” I whispered to the man we rented lounge chairs from.

“Yes, all the beaches on Miami Beach are topless. But,” he added, holding his index finger up, “just the tops. Not the bottoms.”

We parked ourselves in the middle of a sparsely populated beach. I looked around at the other sunbathers, but didn’t see any topless women.

“We’ll ease into it,” Lisa said as she spread sun block on her legs.

For an hour or so we relaxed, bathing ourselves in the warm sun that we had so little of in Chicago. I thought about our goal ahead, and how the society we were raised in affects it. I’ve always believed America is a little too puritan when it comes to nudity and should adopt a more relaxed view of the human body, like in Europe.

It got me thinking of Janet Jackson’s Nipplegate from the 2004 Super Bowl. Her nipple-shielded breast flashed for nine-sixteenths of a second (according to Wikipedia), and the country still freaked out. I wonder how many children became more intrigued and ran to their computers to re-watch the incident over and over. Not because it happened in the first place, but just because their parents turned it into hysteria.

I watched as paunchy hirsute men walked around the beach shirtless. If we have to look at that without being offended, why can’t I, a trim, fit woman, be free?

There were some kids frolicking in the water several feet away. I wondered if we should keep our tops on because of them. But, I decided it wasn’t my problem. They weren’t my kids, and it wasn’t my responsibility to explain nudity to them and the laws of Miami Beach.

“She’s topless,” Lisa whispered, gesturing to the woman behind us. We glanced at her as she sat with her husband, basking her bare torso in the sun, conversing with him as if it was no big deal. Was it?

Okay, I thought. Here it goes. I untied the back of my bikini top, lifted the halter strap over my head. “Just do it,” Lisa said. I pulled off the top and tossed it aside. Lisa did the same. I lay back down, closed my eyes and just let the sun beam down on me.

“Are you going to take your top off? Why not?” A guy nearby asked his girlfriend after he noticed our liberation. But she didn’t. And I have to ask: Why not?

We spotted a few other topless women on the beach. It doesn’t surprise me that a majority of them kept their tops on. Maybe most of them didn’t realize they had the option. But most likely, they were too insecure to do it. I’m glad I’m secure with my body image and open-minded enough to experience it. It was worth every second.

We lay there for about ten minutes before putting our tops back on. It was, after all, our first time. But the next few days we did it again for longer stretches of time. It became comfortable, normal. We saw more women do it too. I’m sure the men did double-takes, but they didn’t stare like idiots.

I would do it again, but it all depends on whom I’m with. Of course, I wouldn’t do it if my family were around. If I were alone with a boyfriend, I’d lose the top only if he were okay with it. If I were with a group of friends that included both men and woman? No, in that case, I’d keep my top on. It all depends on the situation. But I don’t regret doing it, and I highly recommend it.

And, no, I didn’t take any pictures.

The Cleanse is Over!

I ended my cleanse last Friday, two days earlier than planned. I was on my way to Rivers, a bar along the Chicago River in the Loop, and as I rode in the taxi down LSD with the window rolled down and the sun shining, I knew it was time for a beer. The Blue Moon I drank as I sat outside with my friend went straight to my head, and it felt good. I ordered the chicken quesadillas with cheese and sour cream, wondering how my body was going to react to dairy. My stomach welcomed the toxin like a long lost friend.

I was a little disappointed that I didn’t feel any of the changes that others experienced during the same cleanse. No surge of energy. No glowing skin. My sinuses didn’t clear up. I believe it means my body wasn’t too out of balance pre-cleanse. I did lose seven pounds and some inches, though. This bod’s ready for Miami Beach.

On Easter I enjoyed a chocolate cupcake and a soy latte from Starbucks. I indulged in my mother’s homemade pasta with meat sauce, crusty French bread and fine wine. Today I ate blueberry pancakes and more homemade pasta and buttered toast.

But just because the cleanse is over doesn’t mean I’m going back to all my old eating habits. I’ve switched to almond milk for my decaf coffee and whole grain cereals, bought two pounds of brown rice instead of white pasta, and the juicer still sits on my counter ready to be used. I still have a drawer full of veggies and a freezer full of fish. I’m going to limit the amount of bread I eat and continue making homemade pesto and salad dressing.

That’ll make up for the pizza and alcohol I’m keeping in my diet.

Nine Days to Go: Week 2 of the Cleanse

Half way through week 2 of the cleanse. According to the book, change is happening internally, but I won’t necessarily feel it. It all depends on how “out of balance” my body was before the cleanse. Well, I guess it wasn’t too out of balance because I haven’t noticed much of a difference in the way I feel now and how I felt before the cleanse. It helps that I participated in the Elimination Week, preparing my body by taking out sugars, white flower, caffeine and alcohol from my diet.

It also could mean my pre-cleanse diet wasn’t as bad as I thought. I wasn’t eating as many fruits and vegetables, but I did drastically decrease the amount of white processed flower in my diet. I switched to decaf coffee. I started drinking more tea. I snacked on almonds and goji berries. I ate cereal with soymilk instead of regular milk. Maybe it’s those small changes that I had already made that’s making it easier for my body adjust to the cleanse diet.

In any case, I have nine days to go, and I’m going to see this thing through, darn it. Last night I attended Foursquare’s first birthday party at Lincoln Station. I knew there’d be alcohol. I knew there’d be cake. What I didn’t know is that it would be chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, my favorite. And also pizza, my other love. And the ultimate: Chocolate. Lava. Crunch. Cakes. All for free to celebrate one year since the birth of the latest social media craze.

When they brought in the chocolate sheet cake adorned with candles that spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my friend Julie pulled me away. “You need to stay far away from that,” she said. But I wanted to look at it. I wanted to bend down close to it and take a whiff. I wanted to be naughty and stick my finger in the frosting. I took a picture of it and uploaded it to Facebook. “Help!” I pleaded to my Facebook friends.

“Hurry! Go outside and have a cigarette!” My cousin Vince jokingly responded.

The pizza wasn’t as hard to resist. After all, it was Domino’s. But the small boxes carrying two chocolate lava crunch cakes to take home almost killed me. The thought crossed my mind. Maybe just…one…little…bite.

“I wonder if I can take the molten cakes home and freeze them,” I said to Julie. But I figured by the time the cleanse was over, I might as well just walk to Domino’s and purchase fresh molten cakes to bring home. Or even better, treat myself to a gorgeous dinner at Quartino, which not only offers molten cake for dessert, but also hot, fresh donut holes with honey and chocolate dipping sauces. Mmmmm.

“Stay strong!” My Facebook friends encouraged. “You can do it! May the force be with you, sista!”

So last night I resisted. I persevered. And I went home with no chocolate lava crunch cakes.

Nine days to go.

Week 1 of the Cleanse: Where did this will power come from?

So I’m half way through Week 1 of the cleanse, and so far the biggest surprise is that I'm doing just fine. Where did this will power come from? I’ve never been disciplined when it came to a healthy diet. But Dr. Junger’s book, Clean, is developed in a way that makes it easy for even a foodie like me to give her body a much needed brake from processed foods and breads.

Sure, during Elimination Week last week I had the munchies almost every night, craving Fritos and McDonalds and chocolate. I stopped watching the Food Network, a regular visitor in my home, because I feared temptation from Paula Deen and Rachael Ray. But I ignored the hankerings, and instead sipped on chamomile tea with agave syrup (no honey aloud) or drank water with lemon, and that seemed to help.

I also found recipes in the book and online that I like enough to keep using after I complete the program, which makes sticking to the cleanse easier. On the My Clean Program website, a sort of Facebook for people doing the cleanse, I found a delicious recipe for an almond crust that I use on chicken breast and salmon (see recipe below). I lay the chicken or fish on a bed of mixed greens with homemade dressing, also from the book, add some quinoa or brown rice, and I have a healthy meal to add to my regular diet that I actually crave. By the beginning of this week, I was watching Food Network again, hoping to learn more healthy tips.

The Clean program consists of two liquid meals and one solid meal, preferably at lunch, a day. At first I thought having a liquid meal for dinner would be an adjustment, but I’ve actually enjoyed not having to cook at night after a long day of writing and running errands. I’ve tried a couple of the soups from the book, but neither of them will make it to the post-cleanse menu. I’ve enjoyed the energy smoothies that I have in the morning, but I miss coffee, scrambled eggs and toast. And pancakes. And pizza. And alcohol. I frown every morning at the new coffeemaker that I just got as a birthday present. But I did manage to bar hop last Saturday with my friends and drank water the entire time.

So far the withdrawal symptoms I’ve experienced aren’t severe. I get mild headaches and I’ve been sneezing a lot. Dr. Junger says by Week 2 I’ll start to see positive changes including more energy and clearer skin. So we’ll see.

Only two and a half weeks to go.

Almond Crust:

1/2 cup of roasted, unsalted almonds

1 garlic clove

1/2 teaspoon of coarse salt

3 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil

Combine in a food processor. Rub on to chicken breast or fish and bake. Yum!

Day One of a Month Long Journey to Clean

Day one of Elimination Week. So far so good.

This week, I’m starting a cleansing program based on the book Clean by Alejandro Junger. For years, I’d thought about doing a cleanse but never had the incentive. Then last week, after consuming too much white bread over three days, I suffered ongoing headaches and sluggishness. And when my friend Charlene mentioned she was starting a cleanse based on this book, I took it as a sign. I just turned 39, spring is coming, and I booked a trip to Miami in April. Now was a good time to eliminate the toxins that have been accumulating in my body.

The main detox in the book Clean is one to three weeks. But before the detox is an Elimination Week that prepares the body for the cleanse. Sometimes while a person is detoxing, their body responds dramatically to eliminating the toxins that have built up over the years that can result in acne breakouts, headaches, and flu-like symptoms during the first few days of cleansing. The Elimination Week helps alleviate that. Eliminated from my diet this week are all the usual suspects: sugar, pasta, breads, dairy, caffeine, alcohol, processed foods. But also included are some surprises: Bananas, strawberries, and tomatoes are also stricken from the diet.

This morning I started with a green smoothie made from a recipe from Clean that include frozen pineapple and mango chunks, and almond milk, which isn’t as gross as it sounds. I also threw in an apple and some leftover green smoothie my brother gave me yesterday, contents unknown, but they should be kosher given his healthy lifestyle. Threw in some ice, blended it up, and it was actually a sweet, refreshing drink. Not what I would normally eat on a cold, damp morning, but I drank the whole serving.

Lunch was a mixed salad with a homemade dressing of grape seed oil, lemon juice, garlic, basil, thyme and parsley. At the cafe where I do most of my writing, I sipped on naturally-decaffeinated chamomile tea with stevia, since honey is a no-no. I like using stevia in my lemon water, but in coffee and tea, it gives a funky aftertaste. Not sure if this is something I’ll get used to, or if I have to skip drinking herbal tea during the cleanse. Someone suggested using agave syrup, which I bought yesterday during my cleansing stock up at Whole Foods. I may give that a try. For dinner I heated up a bowl of left over brown rice with veggies and roasted chicken. During the cleanse, which begins next Monday, I’ll have to consume two liquid meals and one solid meal a day.

Now that it’s ten o’clock at night, I’m sitting on the couch trying not to let the fast food commercials discourage me. Throughout the evening, I felt hungry. But according to the book, the body “benefits so hugely from the break in digestion that if the body were completely in charge of things, there wouldn’t be a problem…It learns to function well and feel good on two liquid meals and one solid meal a day.”

My goal is to finish all three weeks of the cleanse, with Easter being the first day I’ll get to indulge. But I’ll have to see how I do after Week 1 of the main cleanse. For now, I’m taking it one day at a time.

Saying Goodbye

Last week, my family and I said goodbye to Mark Herring, a boy that lived on the same floor at Misericordia as my brother, Michael. I don’t know how many years I’d known Mark. My memories of him blur into a collage of brief encounters, moments I spent with him while visiting my brother. Like the time Mark was reading a Best Buy catalogue and I asked him if he was buying a new flat screen TV. Or the time my dad and I were taking Michael to Easter Mass in the rotunda, and Mark asked if he could go along. So I walked beside him as he steered his powered wheelchair down the hall, my father pushing Michael in his chair next to us, and we sat together during mass.

I don’t remember the last time I saw Mark before he died. Lots of times it was in passing while I was visiting Michael. I’d see Mark down the hall and wave. Or I’d stop in the multi-purpose room where all the kids gathered to watch a DVD and give him a kiss or a high-five.

I was at Misericordia the Saturday before Mark died. Michael wasn’t feeling good, and mom and I stopped by for a visit. We spent a couple of hours by Michael’s bedside, talking to him, trying to make him laugh. I took a picture of mom and me holding Michael’s hands and uploaded it to Facebook. As we were leaving, we stopped by the nurses’ station to chat with the nurse on duty. The hallway was quiet, not filled with the usual kids hanging out playing, singing, or drawing. I peeked in the multi-purpose room, looking for Barb, Michael’s CNA, but I didn’t see Mark. If I had, I would’ve stopped to talk to him. Two days later my brother Chris called to tell me Mark died of a sudden heart attack.

I didn’t know a lot about Mark. I wasn’t even sure how old he was. Never met his family. It wasn’t until his funeral when I learned the answers to these questions. The laminated memorial cards told us Mark would have been seventeen in June. In the front row at the service sat his mom, sister, brother, grandmother and step dad. I’d never met them. None of us had. I gave his grieving mother a hug and told her how beautiful her son was. I was one of hundreds of strangers that came up to her that day. I wonder if she knew what an impact her son had on all of us.

Mark had impossibly long eyelashes. Dark and curled, like every woman’s dream. It was the first thing I saw as I knelt beside his small white coffin. I told him that I wished I’d spent more time with him when I had the chance, that I wished I’d seen him on that last Saturday of his life. We always regret the time we didn’t spend with someone once they’re gone. But it reminds us to cherish the time we have with ones who are still with us. 

Scent of a Season

Last week I finally turned on the heat when the thermostat in my apartment dropped below 70 degrees. The furnace chugged and coughed and rumbled as it awakened from its hibernation, and soon it released a gassy odor that spread throughout my home, an odor that only emits the first time I turn on the heat for the season. That smell is the official start of Fall for me, like the opening bell of the season. The scent makes me think of what the next few months will bring.

Like when my feet get icy cold while at the office, I’ll kick off my pumps and pull on my old knee-high, pale pink Uggs. With worn sheepskin and holes in the seams, they’re no longer adequate to wear outside during a Chicago winter, but perfect as an extra pair of slippers in the office. Putting my chilled feet into the plush fleece sockliner still brings a smile to my face.

I’m excited to put away my faded t-shirts and denim shorts and tired flip-flops that I wore all summer, and instead pull out long-sleeve sweaters and wool skirts and knee-high leather boots. I love putting on my leopard print beret that I bought in Provincetown and leaving it on even after I take off my coat and gloves. I love tying a scrunched pashmina around my neck.

I’ll get inspired to make homemade chicken broth. And while the broth is simmering for hours on the stove my home will fill with warmth, the windows will steam up, and the sweet aroma will sift out my front door and into the hallway so the neighbors can smell it the moment they step off the elevator.

I’ll fill my refrigerator drawers with a variety of apples picked from orchards in the northwest suburbs. I’ll think of recipes to use up all the apples before they rot: apple pie, apple crisp, applesauce, apple turnovers, baked apples…

I’ve covered my bed with the soft cotton yellow and white striped comforter that sat folded on top of my printer all summer. I pulled out the down throws and blankets and the Snuggie my brother got me for Christmas last year, and keep them on the couch for easy access.

I’ll kick off my shoes after a long day and pull on my favorite red slipper socks. My aunt searched every mercato in northern Italy until she found a pair and sent them to me. I love them because I don’t have to take them off when I want to curl up on the couch, and I can still wear them to go down and get the mail. One time I almost left home with them on.

I’ll consider the multiple invitations to Halloween parties around the city and brainstorm ideas for inexpensive costumes. I’ll buy a pumpkin, but won’t get around to carving it, then consider using it to make homemade pumpkin pie.

I’ll watch as the leaves on the trees in Lincoln Park turn from green to brownish-yellow and fall to the ground, and remember how grateful I am that I live in a condo with no yard to maintain.

Most of all, Fall is a prelude to the Christmas season. One whiff of the crisp autumn air reminds me that soon I’ll be shopping for a Frazier Fur and pulling out strands of white lights and boxes of ornaments to prepare for my holiday party.

And then I’ll get excited for Winter.