In April, I'm headed to Canyon Ranch, the world's most renowned health and wellness destination. In addition to day spas and residential communities in various U.S. cities, there are two resort locations -- one in Tucson, Arizona and one in Lenox, Massachusetts. This is the one I will visit.

My several-day stay at Canyon Ranch comes with a bit of a breast cancer twist, and I'll tell you all about it in a future post.

But right now, I want to offer up a few healthy living tips offered by the professionals at these luxurious getaways. Featured on the company's website, these tips might just get you motivated in a healthful direction.

Breathe

Proper, natural breathing can improve relaxation. When breathing deeply, imagine the new supply of oxygen flowing through your body. Remember to exhale slowly. This can help relax your body further. Breathing should never feel forced or unnatural.

Just Ducky

If you're looking for a quick lunchtime workout that leaves you office-ready or a convenient exercise routine that allows you to be good to go at a moment's notice, jump into the nearest swimming pool. Carolyn Collman, M.S., exercise physiologist and aquatic therapist at Canyon Ranch in Tucson, says you can get in the swim without getting soaked. "Water exercises are the perfect solution for a high-efficiency, no-hassle workout for almost everyone. An older adult new to exercise or a sedentary person can benefit from it as much as an Olympic athlete and everyone in between," she says.

Fat-Free Isn't Sugar-Free

Many foods marketed as fat-free and low-fat are loaded with sugar. Learn to read food labels to determine whether the fat-free choice is really a healthy choice. Many products are replacing partially hydrogenated oils with sugar to compensate for lost flavor. The average person consumes twenty teaspoons of added sugar a day – that's 156 pounds a year!

You Are How Much You Eat

A recent study by the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill has confirmed what Canyon Ranch has espoused for years: portion size directly impacts your weight. Using scales, measuring cups and spoons is a useful way of learning what a proper portion looks like. You can also use these common objects to help you visualize healthy portion sizes:

• Palm of your hand or deck of cards for a portion of lean meat, chicken, or fish
• One-inch cube (dice) for the portion of cheese
• D-cell battery for a portion of dried fruit or salad dressing
• Tennis ball for rice or potatoes
• Large marshmallow for salad dressing
• Ping-pong ball for the serving of nuts or nut butter

There's more where these came from. Go see for yourself. Or stop back here -- I promise to share more.

I have had a hard time keeping my counseling appointments lately. Life keeps getting in the way, and counseling keeps getting pushed to the side. The last time I called my counselor to cancel -- due to an emergency room trip with my three-year-old -- I mentioned that my inability to keep up with sessions was perhaps a precursor to an eventual termination of our counseling relationship. My counselor -- Lindsay -- said this was maybe an accurate assessment, that we should discuss the possibility of an ending point. We haven't yet discussed it, though, because I have not made the time to contact her. I have continued to leave counseling on the back burner.

But today Lindsay sent me an e-mail to check in. She wrote that I am probably going to be okay on my own now -- in the aftermath of cancer -- and that we should have one final session to reflect on my progress over the past 16 months. I have not replied to Lindsay -- not because I am busy with other things but simply because her words made me cry. They still make me cry, hours later. I'm not exactly sure why. And I'm not exactly sure how I will follow up on scheduling my very last session.

I assume my tears -- my sadness -- are part of the healing process, part of the separation anxiety I feel each time a part of my treatment ends and a part of my life moves on. I assume I am sad at the prospect of leaving a vital part of my recovery behind, about leaving the comfort of my counseling chair, about leaving Lindsay. The possibilities are endless. And I suppose we will cover all possibilities when Lindsay and I sit down for our last, final, concluding session -- when we recall how much I have grown since the day we first met, when I could barely mutter a word about cancer without weeping uncontrollably, when I could barely manage to find pleasure in my days, when I could barely imagine that life could -- and would -- offer me peace and happiness.

Today, life is good. And it's clear that counseling is no longer necessary for my survival. But that doesn't make it any easier to make my final appointment. To contemplate saying my last goodbye. To tackle life completely on my own. Which is what I will do -- in time -- so I can continue moving on, away from breast cancer.