Posted on : By : dscottmaiorca Posted in : health|Real life

Socrates, Baby Steps, and Not Smoking.

Driving home from Christmas Eve Mass, my wife asked me to detour through downtown to look at the Christmas lights. Having gone to an early service, I did. Just a few years ago, our youngest begged to see Christmas lights. At seventeen,seventeen, with the temperament of an octogenarian, he was less enthused and began to grumble and gripe.

I ignored him at first — usually the best approach with an eighty-year-old teenager. After a few minutes of hearing how I was wasting his time I snapped at him. I quickly realized the snap was bigger than the offense. I apologized.” It’s probably just nicotine withdrawal, but can you go easy tonight? It’s Christmas Eve?”

“You’d have to quit smoking to go through withdrawal,” he quipped in return.

He wasn’t wrong, but sadly. He wasn’t right, either. I had quit only two hours ago, and was feeling the level of my addiction.

We have a twenty-year-old cat named Socrates. As infirmed as Socrates is when he gets one WIFF of catnip, he becomes alive. He will literally bounce down the stairs — as if being pulled by the nip. He rolls in it until his eyes become glasses and his addiction becomes satiated.

I call him Billy Burrows when he’s in that state, even though I’m the only one in my house that gets the Junky reference. Call him Billy Burrows, because I think it’s funny, and because I judge him, for being an addict. A judgment I can’t make anymore — knowing how short two hours actually is.

I’ve tried to quit for years. I promised my wife I’d quit before our oldest son was born. He’s almost twenty-three. I’ve gone so far as switching to cigars, little filtered ones, and not inhaling on them.

On a certain level, I know what bullshit that is, but I’m also aware it was a better step, and I don’t actually inhale, so on a smallest level it’s an improvement.

Moving into a new year, I’ve decided it’s not enough of a step. So I quit for two hours on Christmas Eve and realized what a junky I actually am.

I eased back my goals. From weight loss and writing, I’ve learned the best way to accomplish a big goal is to take little positive steps, baby steps, towards it, rather than a giant leap.

For baby steps to work, at least in my experience, there have to be rules. Simple rules that aren’t difficult to keep. For weight loss, my goals were simple: eat healthy six days a week. On the seventh, eat whatever. Exercise, a few times a week, easy exercise. I used DDPY, but anything works. If you’re really out of shape, any exercise is better than what you’re used to. You can read my weight loss post for more specifics on that.

As far as smoking goes, I’m really out of shape. I was smoking a pack and a half a day, at least. Buying my filtered cigars in bulk and a few months at a time, I can’t be sure what I was actually smoking. I didn’t refill my cigar order when I was running low in December. I buy two packs at a time now, that’s a baby step. I also bought a vape another baby step..

After a little over a week, I know I’m smoking 16 a day on average. That’s the most I’ll allow myself to smoke, a baby step and an easy rule to follow. That became my first baby step: don’t smoke more that sixteen a day. That’s cutting my habit in half, which wasn’t that hard.

Most of the cigars I smoked were mindless on the way to work. Or the first thing in the morning, and I was probably putting them out only about halfway through. It was nervous-smoking.

I’ve also decided not to smoke while driving, that was the biggest time of nervous-bored-smoking every day. That’s when I use my vape if I need to. I have used it a few times, but rarely.

In the near future, I’m going to cut the number of cigars I allow myself a day. I haven’t set a date, a goal, or a baby step yet, but I know it will happen, then I’ll do it again, and again.

I think this approach is working. I’m not an ex-smoker, but I’m closer, and no eighty-year-old children have been harmed yet.

https://scott-maiorca.medium.com/socrates-baby-steps-and-quitting-smoking-4b0625f62751?sk=7a2629710a718e158f1a9fb48191ffce
Posted on : By : dscottmaiorca Posted in : health|Real life

Comfort Food For Quarantine

Lots of people are having to cook at home right now. People who normally didn’t. Between supporting a family of five on a teacher’s salary and being grad students for the last few years, we haven’t had the luxury of eating out much. Truthfully, that’s been a good thing.

I’ve always cooked. I mean, like, since I was in grade school. I enjoy it, and having been on a tight budget for decades, it has saved us a lot of money.

There’s also a cultural angle. My great-grandfather on my dad’s side came to the United States from Sicily. I’m very proud of that heritage, and cooking has always been a way for me to stay in touch with it. Italians and Sicilians have this amazing way of taking almost nothing and turning it into a feast, as do lots of historically poor cultures. If you think of your favorite Italian dish that you pay way too much for at a restaurant, it probably started as poverty food— made with leftovers or with the least expensive ingredients known to man.

Meatballs and parmigianas were essentially little bits of meats or eggplant mixed with stale bread, spices, and a few eggs. Pasta is just flour, water, eggs, and oil mixed together and dried.

Nothing in Southern Italian/Sicilian is expensive, and nothing goes to waste. Why? Simple –  because most people in those parts of Italy have been poor since the Roman Empire. So, we’re not Sicilian peasants, but between the shelter-in-place orders and the empty store shelves, we could learn a lesson from them— not to mention, we’d all use some comfort food right about now.

I’m not going to make my pasta from scratch. Well, at least not anytime soon, but I’m going to continue making my sauce from scratch. Last time I was at the store I chuckled a little seeing that all of the jarred pasta sauces were gone, but seeing the produce aisle was filled with fresh produce.

Real sauce is very simple to make. At its most basic you need water, tomatoes, garlic, and oil, traditionally olive oil,but any oil will do. Everything else that can go in sauce is optional. 

To make a very basic sauce, place a tablespoon of oil in a saucepan and add one clove of garlic. On a medium heat, sauté the garlic until it starts to turn golden. At that point, add two to four Roma tomatoes that you have diced. You could use canned tomatoes or another variety of fresh tomato, but Romas are one of the best and cheapest you can easily find at the store. Once the tomatoes are in the saucepan, cover them fully with water and bring to a boil. After they start to boil, turn the burner back down to a medium heat and simmer for twenty minutes, stirring occasionally. 

After your sauce has started to simmer, start your pasta water boiling. The pasta should finish cooking at about the same time as your sauce. That’s it: an easy, healthy, cheap Italian dinner using almost nothing.

That’s the basic sauce. Of course, every Italian family has their own variation, but that’s really all you need. I use oregano and basil in my sauce for spicing. Some of my cousins think that’s heresy. They swear by just garlic, tomatoes, oil, and a pinch of sugar.

I also like to add vegetables to my sauce. I’ll sauté a little onion with the garlic, and sometimes peppers. I’ll also, if I have it on hand, add spinach or mushrooms to the tomatoes when I add the water. Sometimes I’ll add white or Lima beans, like my grandmother did.

You can add whatever you want, or whatever you happen to have on hand. While the older generation of Italians wouldn’t be forgiving if you deviate too much from the basics, the sauce will. Make the sauce your own based on what you have on hand, what you think is healthy, and most importantly, what you think tastes good.

Posted on : By : dscottmaiorca Posted in : health

Little Actions Yield Big Results

“I think you have an eating disorder,” Chrissy said. I was in college and desperate to lose weight. I had invited several friends over for lunch. Chrissy and I were standing in my kitchen by my fridge. I had carefully taped swimsuit models from a J Crew catalogue on my refrigerator door. I had put them there to remind myself why I was dieting. It was a motivational strategy. I figured if I saw the beautiful women every time I went to the fridge, I’d eat less. I wanted to be skinny so I could have women like that. 

“Nah, it’s just motivational,” I said. Besides, guys can’t have eating disorders.

I was wrong, very wrong. Guys can have eating disorders, and in hindsight I definitely had one. 

I assumed the only way a beautiful woman would be interested in me was if I was thin, and the only way I would be thin was if I starved myself. I skipped meals, I drank SlimFast, I ate nothing but raw vegetables, and I hated it. I hated my body, and myself.

I think we’ve all been there. Trying to change ourselves, because we think we have to, so that other people will love, or approve of us.

The only person’s approval you need is your own. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. The only reason to lose weight is because you want to. 

Are you reading this because you want to change? Or are you reading this because you think other people want you to change? 

Think about these questions for a minute. It’s as important to know why you are trying to lose weight, as how to do it. In my experience, it makes all the difference between success and failure.

One of my favorite lines from Shakespeare is this: Above all: to thine own self be true. I thought I understood this when I read Hamlet in high school, but like how I thought I understood eating disorders, I was wrong.

Know thyself isn’t just a Shakespearian idea, it may be a universal truth. It was written above the entrance to the oracle of Delphi. It’s the key to any change you hope to make. 

So, how did you answer the questions. Are you wanting to change because you want to change? If you know the answer is yes, then you are ready.

You need to understand change happens slowly. If you are extremely over weight, morbidly obese like I was, there isn’t a quick fix. You didn’t become morbidly obese over night. It took a long time, maybe months or maybe years. You can’t undo it quickly, and you don’t want to. 

Quick fixes may seem great at the time. Using just about any fad diet you can lose weight. Pushing yourself on crazy workouts you can lose weight. But in both those cases most people can’t keep the weight off. Most people eventually gain all the quick-weight-loss weight back and more. Why?

It’s simple: if you restrict yourself, cut calories, or push your body in extreme ways, eventually you quit. If all you do is look at your body as a machine and do simple calorie in and calorie out math you will lose weight, but you miss the biggest part of the equation. That part is you. 

Your body isn’t simply a machine that you can tune up by cutting calories or massively working out. Your body is part of you. There is a connection between your body and your mind. Your thoughts, and what you focus on, shape your body as much as any diet or workout ever has.

Don’t misunderstand me: what you eat and how you exercise affect your body, but what you think affects it even more. You need to believe a few things about yourself to be successful in changing your body. You won’t believe them at first. If you believed them already, you wouldn’t be reading this. With a little bit of effort, you will believe them.

You can change your habits.

You can change your body.

Eating healthy is easy.

Exercise is easy.

You can do this.

I know they seem simple, but you’ll surprise yourself at how powerful they are. I know I did.

Posted on : By : dscottmaiorca Posted in : health|Uncategorized

Stepping on The Scale

Eventually these health post will go in the health section, but for right now they’re here. Why is a writer starting their writer’s site with health post? Its easy, until I figured out the relationship between my mind and body I couldn’t figure out how to write, or fully live for that matter. Here goes the first post:

I stepped on the scale. It had been nine months since I started my journey, and I was in uncharted territory. The scale read two hundred thirty nine pounds. I almost cried. I texted my best friend. For most people, two hundred thirty nine pounds would make them cry tears of desperation. For me, it was sheer joy. It gave me a level of confidence I hadn’t experienced since I was a kid.


A few years earlier, I stepped on the scale at my doctor’s office: three sixty five. I quit stepping on the scale after than, even refusing at the doctor’s office. I was in bad shape; my heart would periodically race. I wound up in the emergency room to stop it. Every time I checked my blood pressure it was high. I was always tired. I was depressed.


Even though I refused to step on the scale my pants kept getting tighter. Everything kept getting worse. I decided to change. I had to change.


I’ve been overweight since I was five years old. My parents stocked up on Ding Dongs and I found them in the freezer. In a matter of one winter, I went from being the skinny kid in kindergarten to being the fat kid. My parents did what they could. Tried to restrict my food. Tried to get rid of junk food. Tried to tell me about diets. They tried to help, to tell me to lose weight.
I was overweight, but I was healthy. I was an active kid: swam, played soccer, hiked. I was always active. I just ate too much, and as I gained weight, I ate more.


Growing up fat meant I was the butt of almost every joke. I had man boobs before the girls in my grade got theirs. Although I didn’t realize it until recently, I learned to be ashamed of my body. Between the kids’ jokes, and well-meaning parents talking about dieting, I became ashamed of my body.


When I stepped on the scale in the doctor’s office I was in my late thirties. I had spent over thirty years being ashamed of my body, being ashamed of who I was. When I stepped on the scale in the doctor’s office, I almost gave up. As my pants started getting tighter and I realized I wasn’t going to see my kids grow up — I changed.


I started walking, only a few blocks at first, but I started walking every day. I got up, fed my kids breakfast, took them to school, and then went for a walk. We were living in the Rockies and it was November. It was cold, but I walked. It snowed, and I walked. The schools closed because of the snow and ice, and I walked.
Eventually, I worked up to three miles a day every day. It took several months, but I got there. My weight went from what I suspect was three eighty to two ninety five.


Then we moved and I started a new job, and the walking stopped. Some of the weight returned. I kept my weight between three hundred and three hundred twenty for several years. I felt good, but I still wasn’t there yet. I tried dieting, I tried different workout programs, but nothing stuck until this year. It’s been nine months since my change. The last time I weighed in, I weighed two hundred thirty seven pounds. I’ve lost sixty three pounds in nine months and I’ve learned to accept my body. I’ve learned to not let other people judge me. I’ve learned to wear tank tops in public.
As silly as that sounds, wearing tank tops in public has been a revolutionary act for me. It’s hot where I live and tank tops are very comfortable. I’d wear them while working around the house or doing yard work, but every time I left the house, I’d change into a regular shirt. I thought I did this because of some fashion sense, or class.
After that weigh-in I remembered why I wore jackets, even in the summer in high school. I wore them to hide my man boobs. My T-shirts were always too tight and showed my body. I was terrified of what other people would think of my body. I knew what I thought.


At two thirty seven I am still overweight, but I am proud of my body. It’s mine and I refuse to let anyone fat shame, or to let me fat shame myself. I decided that day I would wear tank tops in public when it’s hot. The first time I felt like I was in a naked dream, you know the one where you’re giving a speech or something and you realize you don’t have any clothes on. As I walked through the store I felt nude, vulnerable. I wasn’t hiding my body. Everyone could see my body. At first I feared what the other shoppers would think. Then I started to remember all of the times someone made me feel bad about my body, then I didn’t care. I was comfortable and I looked good. Sure, I’m technically overweight, but so are most people. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I feel good and I understand myself. That’s worth more than anyone else’s opinion.


After a lifetime of struggling with my weight and self image, I was finally free.


If you’re reading this, I assume you can relate. Maybe you haven’t been overweight most of your life, like me, or maybe you have. It doesn’t matter. We are taught, from a young age, what beauty is, and almost none of us live up to that image. You don’t have to, but you do want to be healthy, both mentally and physically. You do want to get control of yourself and your body. You wouldn’t be reading this if you weren’t ready for change.


If you want to change, this might will help you. I will share my experiences with you and help you find your own path. Despite what I thought I knew, weight loss and getting healthy isn’t hard, and it isn’t expensive. It’s about you deciding to change. It’s about you understanding that real change happens slowly. It’s about you learning about yourself, and your body