What this old thing?  It’s a million years old.

(Why you should blame the caveman if you can’t zip your jeans.)

By ALISA SINGER – Contributing Writer

If you pride yourself on your late model car or your trendy clothes, you’ll be surprised to learn that you’re walking around in a body designed over a million years ago. This is around the time the Homo Erectus model was first introduced. The very latest body style, Homo Sapiens, was released by the manufacturer approximately 40,000 years ago. Almost no aspect of civilization since then has even made a dent in our genetic design. You see this evolution business is rather slow going, requiring tens of thousands of generations for any observable mutation to occur. So fruit flies (with a generation of only 9 days) evolve 852 times more quickly than humans.

The point is your body thinks it’s still back in the Pleistocene epoch. Imagine its surprise and disappointment to find itself planted in front of a computer 8 hours a day instead of romping through the jungle chasing (or being chased by) saber-toothed tigers. This dismay and confusion is sometimes expressed in the form of Type 2 diabetes and coronary artery disease.

In contrast, Google up the phrase “prehistoric man and South Beach diet” and you’ll find no direct hits - zilch. This research methodology has led scientists to conclude that obesity was not present among our prehistoric ancestors. This makes sense given the dramatic differences in our lifestyles.

With regard to the pursuit of food, for example, it appears that before we became hunters and gatherers we were that less enterprising predator – the scavenger. Now that doesn’t sound like a terribly demanding workout - wandering listlessly through alleys sifting through trash Many of us forage through the contents of our fridges at 2:00 a.m. without breaking a sweat. But as we evolved into hunters and gatherers our exercise routines were definitely kicked up a notch or two.

Hunting, as practiced by cavemen, could be quite demanding. It involved setting one’s alarm for an ungodly hour and taking long walks through the forest on unpaved roads in bare feet. Also cavemen tended to throw heavy stones and long sharp spears (think shotput and javelins). And then there was the intensely aerobic aspect of the activity which occurred when it turned out the large (but surprisingly agile for his 6 tons) Mastodon had become highly irritated by the barrage of stones and spears, instead of highly dead.

Now gathering is something I haven’t done much of but I feel like this activity involves a lot of bending over, crouching and almost certainly squatting. Picture it – squat for a berry, get up, squat for a nut, get up….repeat a thousand times a day.(That’s a lot of reps.) In contrast, today’s equivalent of exerting oneself for a meal means opting for carryout instead of delivery, or bothering to put the leftovers in the microwave instead of eating them cold.

In terms of dietary differences, what we know about the eating habits of our ice age ancestor is that he favored raw meat but wasn’t very picky, i.e., an “opportunistic carnivore”, willing to dine on insects if convenient. He also enjoyed leafy plants, vegetables, fruits, nuts, roots, and apparently derived his carbs from “tubers”. (In case you don’t know what these are, Wikipedia defines these as “plant underground storage organs”. Hope that clears things up for you.)

Moreover, early humans lacked gastronomical temptations of the kind we face today. Thus it’s hard to imagine this conversation between Wilma and Betty: “I just hate myself – last night I polished off a ton of roots and tubers, and after that I binged on a half-carcass of Giant Wildebeest.” One wonders what would have become of our species if Pliocene man had been exposed to such mouth-watering delectables as double bacon cheeseburgers, deep dish stuffed pizza and caramel pecan Cinnabons. Would he have steadfastly resisted, preferring termites and plant underground storage organs, or become a pizzavore like the rest of us? My money’s on succumbing – after all he was only (mostly) human. And what would have happened next? (I mean after he erased all those pictures of bison on his cave walls and replaced them with triple whoppers and DQ Oreo blizzards.)

Well, one possibility, certainly, is that our species would have become extinct long before the invention of Weight Watchers. But there is also the undeniable chance that over the course of tens of thousands of generations we might have developed a super metabolism, capable of burning 20,000 plus calories a day. Our doctors would be prescribing fettucine alfredo, hot fudge sundaes, and pills to increase our cholesterol; scurvy would be defined as the lack of sufficient butter and whipped cream in the diet.

Think how much further along the evolutionary path we’d be if Homo Erectus had the foresight 500,000 years ago to invent cheese fries and polish sausage instead of fire. Perhaps not what Darwin had in mind when he coined the phrase “survival of the fittest” but, oh, so much better.

In a way it’s rather too bad we aren’t fruit flies. You hardly ever see a fat fruit fly

Who Said Finding Your Balance Was Easy?

CJ Golden – Contributing Writer

Certainly not me. While, in my last article, I spoke of helping the teen girls in your life find balancefollowing the Tao-Girl philosophy, I never suggested that this is an easy task. When I present workshops to girls around the country, I bring a balance board with me.  This particular board is smaller than many and perhaps a bit easier to balance upon.  Yet even with its lesser degree of difficulty, getting aboard and then staying upright without aid is a tricky endeavor.That balance board becomes great fun as, one by one, the girls give it a try.  I do suspect, however, that the most amusing part of this exercise is watching me wobble as I step up and finally find my own stability.  There are times when I need to reach out to one of the girls for their support and help.  And, at times, they need to lean on each other for their balance.

Aha!  That’s when the light bulb goes off and the girls realize the concept in its entirety: finding balance often requires help and encouragement from one’s friends and family.  It’s not an easy task to get through life’s challenges alone and we are fortunate when have others who are ready to support us as we make our choices.

When the girls take their first step up onto that wobbly board – whether on their own or with assistance  they’ve learned their first lessons in finding their balance: they need to have friends around who are there to help, and they must be open to accepting that support and encouragement should it be needed.Once atop the board they begin to grasp the next intention of this exercise.  The girls quickly come to understand that maintaining their equilibrium, even with the support of others, is not an easy thing to do.  Staying upright and secure requires self-confidence and inner strength.And that is what I shall explain in my next article.

C.J. Golden, author of TAO OF THE DEFIANT WOMAN, and the award winning, TAO-GIRLS RULE! is a motivational speaker who travels the country inspiring all with her dynamic spirit and vision as she helps others explore their unique journeys through life. She is an increasingly important voice in the field of women’s studies as her message resonates with women and girls everywhere.

Visit CJ at www.taogirl.com

Of Horcruxes, Cracker Jack Boxes and Colonoscopies

By Alisa Singer - Contributing Writer

Harry Potter fans will recall the scene in the series’ sixth book when Dumbledore agonizingly forces himself to drink a basin of vile green potion. It turned out that, in a cruel twist on the Cracker Jack box gimmick, Lord Voldemort had hidden one of his treasured Horcruxes at the bottom, to be accessed only by one who drinks the entire contents of the basin. The wise Dumbledore had deputized his protege Harry Potter to ensure he finished every last drop of the foul liquid, no matter how much he protested.

Persons of my vintage may be forgiven for seeing Dumbledore’s self-inflicted torture as akin to the dreaded process of preparing for a colonoscopy. So, the evening before my own procedure I took a page from the great wizard’s playbook and recruited my teenage daughter to be my “Harry”, charging her with the job of making sure that I drank all of the several thousand ounces of the nauseous mixture my doctor required me to swallow.

With my daughter at my side to urge me forward I eyed my nemesis, an enormous plastic jug that looked like it belonged on a shelf in someone’s garage filled with antifreeze. I was overcome by feelings of loathing and trepidation rising from, as one might expect, deep within my bowels. (These are the kinds of feelings a clogged pipe might entertain towards a can of Drano, if plumbing fixtures had emotions.) Nonetheless, I stiffened my sinews, summoned up the blood, screwed my courage to the sticking place and grimly began to drink, quoting liberally from Dumbledore throughout: “.. …Don’t like it …. want to stop…No more, please, no more ...", followed by choruses of  "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!" and "KILL ME!".

I was rather proud of how my daughter handled her responsibilities during my ordeal – the girl’s made of some stern stuff.  Promises of designer jeans, a car of her choice when she turned 16, and a lavish destination wedding someday (with the groom of her choice) were as gnats against the great windshield of her determination.  Her resolve did waiver a bit when I dangled the condo in Aspen but, ultimately, she did not succumb. Of course, I made it relatively easy for her.  Only once or twice was she required to wrestle me to the ground, kneel upon my chest, squeeze my nostrils shut and pour liquid down my throat.

Finally, I gulped down the last few ounces and collapsed into a chair. (There was, unhappily, no prize at the bottom of the container, not even a Horcrux.) Assuming the aspect of a guppy floating on its side on the surface of a fishbowl, I waited for nature, abetted in this case by a wide assortment of toxic chemicals, to run its inevitable course.

It occurred to me later that this is likely one of those situations in which men and women might differ in their approach. I theorized that women, being natural “pleasers”, would tend to assiduously drink every last drop out of fear of disappointing the authority figure, i.e., the gastroenterologist. Whereas men, their brains awash in testosterone, would be more likely to discount directives issued by others and adopt a more defiant, “good enough, I’m done”, attitude.

I had one anecdotal bit of supporting evidence for this theory.  The brother of a friend of mine, a not-to-be-named anchorman for a major television network, decided to do an on-air colonoscopy in the hope of motivating everyone who was AARP-eligible to run out and, with great alacrity, schedule their own procedure. His plan was to walk through the experience from beginning to end, finishing with a dramatic endoscopic image of his colon.  Unfortunately, being a man, his preparation for the procedure was less than exemplary, with the result that the image of his colon wasn’t appropriate for prime time viewing.  Not to be deterred, he made a secret deal to borrow pictures from a female TV celebrity who had earlier done her own on-air colonoscopy and whose colon was, of course, squeaky clean. (She, being female, had completed the prep process with the commitment to perfection she brought to bear in all things.) The audience never knew whose colon they were actually viewing.

I put the question to my own doctor, a prominent gastroenterologist who has performed tens of thousands of these procedures: “Are women more likely than men to thoroughly complete the odious evening-before exam prep?”  After seriously pondering the matter for a moment, he said he finds both genders arrive similarly prepared as a rule; however, he pointed out that a woman’s colon is longer than a man’s (who knew?) and because they are also typically smaller people, it is harder for them to swallow all the liquid and get the job done.  The fact that they are able to prepare as well as the men, given these obstacles, would support a conclusion that women are generally more committed to following instructions attentively, even under highly unpleasant circumstances. He also recounted an incident where the male CEO of a major company arrived for his procedure without having done any prep at all.  He apparently expected the doctor to somehow “fix” this for him, being accustomed to not having to deal with disagreeable tasks in his life.  To his surprise, the doctor sent him home to drink his gallons of noxious liquid.

I wondered whether Dumbledore’s own determination to drink every drop of the potion might not pose evidence inconsistent with my theory.  I raised my concern to my daughter.  “Ah,” she said,  “you forget”. She proceeded to remind me of the dramatic disclosure made by J.K.Rowling to an assembly of her fans in Carnegie Hall in 2007 – Dumbledore, it turns out, was gay.