I got my sense of humor from my  family--a family probably best described as colorful. Mom even managed to crack a joke during her last medical examination: When the doctor asked her how much she weighed, she answered, "210 pounds of pure muscle." 

I don't know if  laughter is objectively the best heart medicine, but it's one of many of life's great pleasures that are great for your heart. (Others include, keeping a pet, eating chocolate and engaging in  a regular sex life.)

Given this, where did we get the idea that improving heart health involves a miserable life of self-denial? Maybe because the traditional approach to fighting heart disease involves finger wagging: "Stop smoking, don't drink too much alcohol, lose weight, give up sedentary habits." Those things are important as well, but shouldn't heart disease prevention involve creating a full, balanced life?

My mom used to disparingly quote my grandmother's saying about disease-preventing sacrifice: "If you can't smoke, eat, and drink what you like, what's the sense of living?" Grandma's attitude didn't bother me so much. Grandma was a big woman with a personality to match.  The photo of her that I loved best as a child was the one from her second wedding, when she wore a royal blue dress that matched her eyes and contrasted with her white hair and red lips and the huge bouquet of ruby red roses. She looked overjoyed to be marrying this skinny Italian widower with eleven children--some of whom she continued to raise after his untimely death. Grandma loved a good laugh and generated her share of them, but I heard most of grandma's one-liners second-hand, as she didn't just like to wear blue, she preferred to work blue too.  Grandma died at age sixty-four of (what else?) a heart attack. Near the end of her life she did quit smoking and lose weight, but by then it was too late for her. I loved Grandma because of her good qualities and in spite of her poor choices. I am my mother's daughter, and my grandmother's granddaughter.

Overindulgence can kill you but too much self-denial is unhealthy as well, so I try to make room for little indulgences every day, treating myself with things like good coffee, quality dark chocolate and regular viewings of The Daily Show. None of us is going to live forever, but if we make the most of the time we have, it won't matter so much how long we live.

I'd like to think that both my mom and her mom would have approved of the idea of my wearing red every day for a month, but I know better. Mom could be terribly earnest and practical. She would not have gotten the point, or, perhaps more accurately, her over-identification with me would have made her uncomfortable at the idea of standing out in a crowd so much. Nothing but red, every day, all month? Why not just do it on the same day as everyone else is doing it? But grandma? Grandma would have loved it.