The Fat Ladies Sing & the Skinny Girl Dances

Measurements

2009-04-30T08:18:00.002-04:00

Promised to post these yesterday and never got to it. A little nervous about posting them today - but feel like I need to own up to where I am. And know it will make where I get to that much more dramatic for me.

Weight: 217

Measurements: 46-38-48.

One thing that makes me feel OK is that even thought I'm big - I still have a shape. I'm just a little off from the hour-glass figure I've always had. At my thinnest I was 36-25-36. My waist is proportionately thicker than it used to be - but hell, I've had two kids. And my waist seems to get some of it's shape back continuously. I'll never be 36-25-36 again. But I'd be really happy 38-28-38. 8 is my favorite number.

Back Again

2009-04-28T14:19:00.007-04:00

It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I doubt anyone is looking or listening, but I'm inspired to post again.

I've been trying to consistently get myself working out again, so I went back to basics - crunches.

Crunches are great because they can be done every day, I know how to do them, I don't have to think about them and they work.

So for the last 10 days, I've done crunches everyday except 1. I missed one day for no good reason, but it won't happen again. I have a new motto:

No Matter What

I will do my crunches No Matter What.

I will lose weight No Matter What.

I will learn to love my body No Matter What.

No excuses. Just doing it. I don't accept that I will miss days taking care of myself. My plan is to never miss a day because No Matter What is going on I will make time for me. On the off chance that I should forget that - I will just pick up where I left off. No giving up because I didn't follow through. I WILL follow through, but if I miss doing so, I will from that point on. No time for regrets or self-doubt. Just doing what I need to do - No Matter What.

So here's what I look like 10 days in doing crunches every morning.

That's a lot of belly. But I'm determined that there will be half as much there in a few weeks and by the end of the summer - I plan to be able to bare the belly and feel good about it!!!!

Tomorrow I will post weight and measurements. Then once a week I will post pictures, weight and measurements and see how things change.

Hah! I KNEW it!

2008-08-15T02:07:00.002-04:00

I started this blog back in January of 2006 as a response to two very frustrating things. One was the plethora of weight loss advertising that hits the airways from Christmas to Valentine's Day. Every year I go into a tailspin of feeling more horrible about my body and my weight than usual. I thought that maybe having a place to deal with my weight issues would help me get through being bombarded with media messages about the horrors of being fat.

Also, at that time, I belonged to a Yahoo Group for mothers that, up until that point, had been an extremely supportive and helpful part of my life. But, as I struggled with my own feelings about my weight and my body, and floundered under the weight of commercials telling me that I was even worse than I thought, a discussion about weight cropped up on the Group.

The most central issue of the discussion was whether or not being overweight or obese always resulted in being unhealthy. Some of the women in the discussion insisted that being overweight did mean being unhealthy, while I and a few others insisted that it didn't.

Two women in particular, one of whom was a doctor, who had never been overweight in their lives, were the champions of the idea that fat = unhealthy.

It was one of the most frustrating discussions of my life. I felt that the idea that being fat makes one unhealthy is a mask that people use to hide their prejudice against obese people. And even though the women in the discussion were given rather compelling, though, anecdotal examples of people being fat and healthy, they refused to consider that this was a possiblity.

I offered up myself as the perfect example. As a thin person I smoked, drank, ate unhealthy foods, and ingested large quantities of caffeine and NEVER drank water. I pretty much existed on cigarettes, french fries, Coca-Cola and coffee. I certainly couldn't have been too healthy - and I think if I had maintained that way of living, I'd probably be in pretty bad shape by now. But I was thin, and no one, from looking at me, would have assumed that I was unhealthy - I looked the picture of health.

These days I'm way over the overweight mark, I fall into the realms of clinically obese. However, I drink tons of water, eat in a fairly balanced manner, get a moderate (and continually increasing) amount of exercise. I don't smoke, I rarely drink alcohol and I almost never drink caffeinated beverages. My lifestyle is 1000 times healthier than it was when I was thin - therefore it should follow that I am healthier. However, when some people look at me, they see someone who is fat and assume I am unhealthy.

To further support my argument that being fat doesn't make me unhealthy - when I go for physicals my stats are pretty much the same now as they were when I was young and thin. My blood pressure, cholesterol and blood sugar levels have barely changed in 25 years. So how does fat = unhealthy?

However the women involved in the conversation in my group insisted that it was true. That fat and healthy don't go together, can't possibly go together. I can't remember if they actually said it, or if I just implied it from other things they said - but I remember feeling that they all thought that the effects of the fat just hadn't caught up with me yet - but it would.

Well, here it is 2.5 years later. I just had a physical and the effects of the fat still haven't caught up with me. And best of all, and study just came out that says EXACTLY what I was saying 2+ years ago - that fat people can be healthy, while thin people can be unhealthy. Time Magazine did an article on the study:

“A new study suggests that a surprising number of overweight people — about half — have normal blood pressure and cholesterol levels, while an equally startling number of trim people suffer from some of the ills associated with obesity.”

The study also questioned the standard measure of obesity - the BMI - which I've known for a while is a crock! Any tool that doesn't take various factors into account can't be accurate. I've always felt that the BMI, which only uses height and weight, and doesn't adjust for build and body type, couldn't really be providing really pertinent information. And the study says that what I logically surmised is absolutely true - in fact health care professionals in general have begun to doubt the BMI.

“Even so, there's growing debate about the accuracy of the standard method of calculating whether someone is overweight. Health officials rely on the body mass index, a weight-height ratio that does not distinguish between fat and lean tissue. The limits of that method were highlighted a few years ago when it was reported that the system would put nearly half of NBA players in the overweight category.”

Now, I don't normally like to gloat. I'm a live and let live kind of girl. But I have to tell you, I have such an urge to go back to those women and say "HAH! Now what? Huh? I was right! You were wrong! IN YOUR FACE!"

But instead, I will just be happy with knowing I was right. I will keep just live with the knowledge of my victory inside me. And tomorrow morning when I go to the gym I will enjoy looking around the room at all the skinny people in there knowing for certain that I am just as healthy as any of them.

When I'm wrong...

2008-06-22T23:33:00.005-04:00

I'm really, really wrong and I admit it.

A little while back, in March, I wrote a post about how impossible it is to find pretty bras in large sizes. I wanted to be look and feel sexy again, but I kept finding that difficult to do in gigantic bras that looked like they belonged on 97 year old women with back problems.

And then, late one night, I happened to turn on the TV and saw a commercial for Intimacy of New York. A bra store that does specialized fittings. I went on the website and saw that they carried large sizes and that the bras were very alluring. So at the first opportunity (after getting paid for a freelance gig) I headed over to the store - which just happens to be so conveniently located I can't believe I've never noticed it before.

They gave me a form to fill out with all kinds of questions about different bra problems - I checked them all. It also asked about size and the style you were looking for. Then a young woman came and took me to the back for a fitting.

I expected her to break out a tape measure, but she said that tape measures are not a good way to fit for a bra. That it was better to try on bras to find the right fit. She looked at me both with and without my current bra on and then went out and brought a bra for me to try.

The first one was black lace and was prettier and fit better than anything I'd had on in 10 years. But the young woman wasn't pleased. The bra wasn't sitting exactly where it should. She went back out and came back in with one of the prettiest bras, of any size, I've ever seen. She helped me put it on and it fit perfectly.

I mean absolutely exactly the way I'd always heard a bra should fit - but had never experienced.

The heavens parted. The angels sang. I might have blacked out for a moment - and when I looked again - there I was in this GORGEOUS bra.

I bought two of them.

I mean, I needed them, how could I not buy two?

I insisted on wearing one out of the store. I couldn't put on the hideous, ill-fitting thing I'd worn in there.

I walked to the front sitting area where my two friends - Bear Maiden and Madame President (Bear Maiden calls her One Half) - were waiting and promptly flashed them. I had to share the beauty of my new bras! I've been flashing people ever since. I just have to share how wonderful it is to find a beautiful, comfortable, effective bra with everyone I encounter.

And, of course, I would not leave you out, dear readers. I must flash you too.

The Mother of All Issues

2008-06-06T00:28:00.006-04:00

OK, I have to face it. I can go back and forth about all the reasons I'm fat. There's the lack of sex rationale - including the whole "eat not to cheat" mindset, which is so beautifully illustrated by Samantha in the very flawed Sex and the City movie . There's the I'm unsatisfied with my life excuse. There's the breastfeeding thing. And while all of them - and many other reasons I analyze and acknowledge for contributing to my persistent overweight status - are valid and true, when it really comes down to it, at the root of all this crap is my mother.

I know, I know, how cliché is it to blame it all on your mother?

The thing is, I don't see my mother very often. And because of that, I tend to forget the impact she had on me. The very many ways in which she shaped me, and warped me. So when I see her, it all comes flooding back and it takes me a while to regain my equilibrium.

I am going through that right now - and really remembering and seeing the impact she has had on me and my self-image.

My mother was in town for 5 days. She was here for the funeral of her father, whom I wasn't close to. I won't go into all of that though - because that's a whole other set of issues and I'm working on a post about that over at my other blog, Sugar & Spice.

I dreaded seeing my mother for a whole host of reasons. But one of the main ones was because of my appearance. I KNEW she'd have something to say about my weight. She always has and often it's been shocking and hurtful.

Like when Sugar was 8 months old and I flew cross country specifically so that my mother could see her first grandchild. She hugged me at the door and we went to sit on the sofa. I sat there, holding her grandbaby, and turned to her smiling face, expecting her to say something sweet about the baby, and instead I got, "You're fatter than I am!" in a school-yard sing-song.

Or the last time I visited her when she kept trying to slather me in some kind of self-tanning lotion she loved because I looked, "SO pale!" At least that time she had nothing to say about my weight because I was 5 months pregnant with Spice.

The Bull, the girls and I arrived at the church just as the service was starting - no time to talk. So I knew I at least had a couple of hours before the onslaught of weight comments. Then half-way through the funeral she needed help getting to the bathroom - and I was certain that there, alone, in that place where women tend to fuss over their looks, she would have something to say about my fat.

But to my surprise, no, she didn't say a word. And she didn't say anything after the funeral. And not at her sister's house after the funeral. And she said nothing the next day at a cookout at my father's house (yeah, that was a whole thing in itself - having to invite her to my father's).
And not the next day or the day after, and then she flew back to LA. And I thought I was safe.

She called on my birthday - the day after she flew back west - and just left a birthday message, and of course told me how sick she was (she always gets sick when she comes to NYC). But no mention of fat.

Then she called on Monday and that's when the axe finally fell. She was going on about how much she enjoyed seeing all the people on my father's side of the family. And she asked about my cousin, who I'll call SweetG - the G stands for GRUMPY because she is perpetually grumpy and has major attitude, but she's really has a good heart deep, deep down. Well, SweetG was a fat kid, a fat teen, a fat adult and she's a seriously and dangerously obese middle-aged woman. She stands all of about 5 ft tall and she must weigh close to 300lbs. Her legs are actually bending under the excess weight. Now, my mother hasn't seen her in probably about 15 years. And at first I thought that maybe SweetG wasn't quite so big back then - but now that I think about it, she was pretty hefty - I'd say within about 20 lbs of where she is now. So my mother knows how big SweetG is.

So my mother says that she wanted to see SweetG, but that she never managed to while she was here. "Is SweetG still heavy?" my mother asks. "Oh yes," I say.

"Well, is she bigger than YOU!" my mother exclaims emphatically in a tone of voice that implies that I am SO GARGANTUAN that very few people could possibly be bigger than me. She says this even knowing that the last time she saw SweetG she was bigger than I am now. So why torture me?

I'll tell you why. Because since before I ever even could conceive of women being in competition with each other over their looks, my mother has been in competition with me. She has always made it known to me - and everyone else - that I am not and will never be as pretty, as thin, as alluring, as sexy, or as vivacious as she is. Her beauty is always to surpass mine.

I can remember her pointing out flaws in my appearance when I was as young as 8 or 9 - around Sugar's age. And always in comparison to her own impeccable looks. My nose was too wide, like my father's, while hers was narrower and stronger. My chin to flat, while hers pointed. My shoulders too rounded, my feet pointed in ("pigeon toed") while her posture held her shoulders back and her feet went straight out.

The only thing she would grant me was hair - I had long, curly hair, while her own was short, sparse and rarely seen - always hidden under wigs, or later in extensions. And she kept my hair - for all my childhood - in the same style, two braids (except for very special occasions) while she spent thousands on wigs so that she could change her own style at whim.

When I think of it now, it's like the storie of Snow White or Cinderella - except my step-mother was the nice one. It was my real mother who I suspect would have loved to send me off to have my heart cut out by the woodsman so she could be the fairest in the land. And she continues to push her poisoned apple comments at me over the years that leave me paralyzed and hopeless of ever being able to attain and hold onto any substantial self-esteem.

And the thing is, I am no great beauty. So why? Why compete with me, why tear me down over and over and over again from childhood through middle age? She truly is beautiful. Has had men that other women dream of - (truly - some quite famous heart throbs) fawn all over her. So, why tear me down? Me - the one person who it was her job, her responsibility to build up?

I don't think I'll ever know. All I can do is try to gain perspective. When I look back at old pictures like this one:

I can see how much she warped my perceptions of myself. When this picture was taken I thought I was fat and ugly. I mean really I saw myself as hideous. And I couldn't understand why I couldn't take off that last 10 pounds that might make me finally look the way I wanted. I weighed about 125 lbs and I had a 24 inch waist - just how small did I think I had to get? At the time I also thought that my mother was much, much, much thinner than me. And she certainly perpetuated that. Whenever I would ask to borrow some of her clothing she would groan about how I would stretch her things all out of shape and they would never fit her again. I was fat and ugly - she was thin and beautiful.

But now I look at us in this picture, side by side and I see two pretty, thin women who look about the same size. How can that be? I was ALWAYS bigger than my mother. I thought so, she said so. How is it possible that we really were about the same size? I don't get it. And, though I still think she's prettier when I look at this picture - I don't think it's like the beautiful young mother with the ugly duckling daughter. No, I think I kind of look like her here - it's like the beautiful young mother, with her attractive daughter. Why didn't I know this back then? Why wasn't she telling me that? Why was she always telling me that I looked NOTHING like her?

And just to show how time has taken it's toll - but how, maybe things haven't changed all that much. I'll share this other picture, which I hate - but it serves a purpose and I need to face some things here.

Yes, I am fat. And here, in 2008, I really am bigger than my mother. That is not the illusion it was 25 years ago. But it is clear to me also that I am no hugely, grossly, bigger than her. Her exclamation - "She's bigger than YOU?" is unwarranted. Yes, there are plenty of people who are bigger than me. Perhaps even, if I had on a decent bra, had my suit altered so it actually fit me, rather than hanging off me, and bothered to hold my head up at a flattering angle rather than in this way that makes it look like I just have a one enormous chin instead of a neck, I might actually be half-way attractive. But, all I could think of when this picture taken was that I wanted to snatch up my baby and get the hell out of there. Nice thoughts when seeing my mother for the first time in more than 3 years.

Well, I'm on a new kick. It's called self-preservation. Anything that I feel threatens my well-being - my peace (and piece) of mind is not to be tolerated. And I think that includes my mother.

I have toyed, many times over the years, with just cutting off all contact with her. I've never been able to do it. I always felt guilty about the idea of rejecting my own flesh and blood that way. But this woman is clearly and without question just downright toxic for me. I spent much of the other night crying, tossing and turning over that one comment of hers. For a whole day every time I passed a window or otherwise caught my reflection I saw myself as 3 or 4 times my actual size. I alternately starved myself or ate crap for 2 days. And I was just miserable.

At this point my only question is whether or not to tell her I can't have her in my life. The Bull says I should say something to her. That I should tell her how hurtful and damaging her comments are. He believes that it's my silence that's really eating at me.

But I don't think that's the case. There have been many times in my life that I have confronted her. And I, like everyone else who has stood up to her and tried to make her see how hurtful and selfish she is, have paid the price for speaking out. She NEVER admits she's wrong. She NEVER allows herself to see how much she hurts others. She ALWAYS starts a campaign to prove the other person wrong. She calls everyone she knows and states her case and then starts having them call the person who got in her face. I've been on both sides of her campaigns - and they are ugly. I don't want to be involved with another one. I certainly don't want to EVER be the subject of one again.

So, I think I will quietly fade off the screen. At this point I already take forever to return calls and I've whittled our contact down to maybe once every two to four months. All I need to do is spread that out even further.

I owe it to myself.

Really BIG Boobs are not sexy

2008-03-13T22:14:00.008-04:00

I want a sexy bra. You know the kind. The ones that are lacy and sheer. They prop the girls up and make them all plump and round and the skin looks all glowing through the sheerness and lace. Bras like this:

and even this:

But guess what? Those bras - though available in sizes that would probably fit a smaller breasted woman who weighs over 300lbs are (which I think is great) are not available in my bra size.

In fact, there is very little available in my bra size. Now, I know my bra size is unusual. 38I is not your average, run of the mill size. An I-cup of any width is not typical, but, apparently, the assumption is that if your breast exceed a G-cup, then your body width should be in excess of 40 inches. The bigger the cup, the more rare it is to find it in a width in the 30s. And the larger the cup - the harder it is to find anything that even resembles lace or flowers or sheerness of any kind.

Apparently, if your breasts are big enough to need an I-cup - you must be old and decrepit and in need of bras that provide lots of support and coverage. Really big breasts are, apparently, made to hidden because this is what I found available in my size:

Now, I'm sorry, but you can give all the "come hither" looks you want, but a bra like this just says, "Run away!"

And what really grates on my nerves is this plain, unadorned, libido killer COSTS MORE than the sexy, lacy numbers.

My girls deserve better.

But, sadly, the only way they're going to get better is if I finally manage to wean Miss Spice and get breast reduction surgery. I have resigned myself to this surgery - not so I can wear sexy bras, but because my back could use the relief.

But, I can't help but wonder - just who is it that decides at what point big boobs are too big to be sexy?

The Latest in Vanity Sizing

2008-02-20T16:08:00.002-05:00

It's been a while since I've posted. I'd like to say, "I'm Back!" but who knows if that's really true. I certainly have a whole lot to write about my weight. And I had big plans for this blog for the new year - but I find it really hard to motivate myself into posting here. Maybe now that the big rush of beginning of the year resolution, commercial dieting frenzy time is over. That stuff freaks me out and just makes me want to sit in the corner with a hot fudge sundae. But as it passes, I become more interested in dealing with my weight and the issues that got me to this size. But that's not what this post is about. This post is about me trying to buy new jeans.

So, it's been a while since I've really bought new jeans. The last year or so I've been occasionally grabbing a pair of jeans while shopping for the kids in Old Navy and buying them without trying them on, only to get them home and find out they don't fit. Sometimes too big, sometimes too small - but never just right.

I never seem to want to take the time to go find a Lane Bryant (there are only a few around anyway) where I can usually find just the right pair if I take the time. Part of my reluctance is time. Part of it is this desire to hide and not face myself in dressing room mirrors. And part of it is a HATRED for stretch denim - which someone seems to have decided all women's jeans must be made from.

So I've been hanging on to the tatters of my old, non-stretch jeans. Patching and sewing and sewing patches and holes in patches - which at my age and size, probably isn't the best look. But I've always loved the look of worn jeans - and I hate giving up the last of the non-stretch jeans.

But I now have a closet filled with jeans that don't fit and jeans in tatters. No nice, well fitting jeans without holes and frays.

So, on Saturday, we took Sugar to the Apple Store in the mall to go spend the money she saved on an ipod nano. It's the first thing she's really worked for and saved for and I'm so proud of her. She added to my sense of pride by not choosing the light blue nano or the pink nano - even though these are her favorite colors. She chose the (product) red nano because she was excited that part of the cost (probably mere fractions of a cent) went to help people in Africa with AIDS. I gotta love that my kid has a social conscience.

After she bought the nano we all wandered the mall, got something to eat. Bought Sugar one of her birthday presents and bought something for Spice who was starting to get annoyed that Sugar had so much. Then we headed back to the car. As we passed a Lane Bryant I told the Bull to take the girls and go to the car so I could run into LB, grab a pair of jeans and pay for them. I figured, I've bought enough jeans in there that I know just what to grab by now without trying them on.

Wrong. I didn't know about Right Fit.

Now, at first I think it's going to be easy. They break it down. One style is if you have a straighter, more square figure. One is for the more curvy, hourglass build. And the last is for more of the bottom-heavy - wide hipped type - beyond the hourglass. I'm a pretty standard hourglass. So I figured I'd grab a pair of those in an 18 and head on to the car. I go up to the shelf and look at the sizes.

1, 2, 3, 4...huh? Am I in the wrong store? Size 1 in Lane Bryant? I pull a pair off the shelf. Yeah - these are clearly big girl jeans - but the sizes tell a different story. The sizes are small girl sizes in the big girl store. It's disconcerting. It messes with my equilibrium. I stand in the middle of the store wandering what to do. I look around. There must be a sales person. Someone has to tell me what to do. I'm an 18 - maybe a 16, but I am not a 1, 2, 3 or 4...what do I buy?

I spot a woman at the checkout counter - who points me to another sales person with a measuring tape. She measures me - declares me a red (hourglass) and hands me a size 4.

I'm a 4?

I say OK, take the jeans and walk towards the checkout. She asks if I want to try them on. No. I'm a 4. I don't need to try that on. This is the lowest number size I have ever worn in my life. Even at my thinnest at 120 lbs, with a 24inch waist and at the height of my most anorexic behavior I was a size 5. Someone hands me a 4 and tells me that's my size - I'm buying it.

I am in such shock over this new sizing system that I can't even bring myself to try on the jeans when I get them home. It takes a full 24 hours for me to pull them on - and I'm sure they're going to be too tight.

They're too big.

So what does that mean? Does that mean I'm a 3 or even further - a 2?

I know I need to take these jeans back to the store - but I don't want to. It really makes me uncomfortable, this new sizing. It's like suddenly telling me that a pound weighs an ounce, that a foot is really an inch. I feel like the whole world is skewed, off, wrong.

Now, I know it's just vanity sizing. It's designed to make big girls feel not so big. But it doesn't work that way for me. I know I didn't suddenly shrink. I might not look in the mirror too often - but I know that a new number doesn't make me a new size.

And I'd be worried about myself if this new number really did make me feel better. It would mean that I'm willing to delude myself into staying fat forever.

Could it be that is exactly what Lane Bryant wants? To create a sense of contentment for staying fat? I mean - of course, they do make their money by providing clothing for us big girls. So it is in their best interest that we feel good about staying big.

But, could this be dangerous. If I feel OK with being a "3" - might I not pay much attention to my weight and grow to be a "4," "5," "6," and on and on? At what point does it stop feeling OK to wear a size that matches the number of smaller sizes? At what point does one say - Forget what the number says - I know how BIG I am? I think for me it starts right now.

I don't care what the number on those jeans says - 3 or 18 - I'm bigger than I feel comfortable. And I can't let a clothing manufacturer tell me any different.

The Names We Call Ourselves

2008-01-26T17:57:00.000-05:00

Sometimes there's prejudice and stereotyping based on body size, but sometimes we treat ourselves worse than anyone else is treating us. We hate ourselves, loathe our bodies for their needs, and we're so caught up in our misperceptions and self-deception that we can't see how wrong we are . . . .

I recently came across a 5-year summary of my food & body issues from 20 years ago. Calling myself a "fat bitch" at 120, getting down to 111 and finding it didn't fix anything. Bingeing back up to 125, I called myself a "gross fat pig". At 130, it was "lose weight or die", and back on the bingeing/dieting cycle. Being scared because I was "so fat", hating myself, trying to make myself stop eating because if I got down to 106, I'd be Perfect. I'd binge, purge, throw away the leftovers so I wouldn't binge again, but end up getting it all out of the trash. Honestly believing I was a "huge blob" at 131. The summary ends with my bout with anorexia, dropping to 102 before threats of hospitalization made me gain some weight back. When I went inpatient for treatment for my eating disorders, the docs set my goal weight at 128. That was the mid-point of the average weight range for my height. 128. And for most of the preceding five years, with all that energy I'd put into hating my body, eating, not eating . . . except for maybe 6 months out of those five years, I was noticeably BELOW that 128. I just didn't have a clue what average looked like. All I saw was fat. So much fat that I believed I was too gross to walk the planet.

I know I'm not "normal" about food now, but damn -- at least I know I'm thin. I hope that twenty years from now, my current functioning seems as alien & unbelievable as that behavior listed in that 5-year summary seems to me now.

Bariatric surgery

2007-12-14T19:04:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine had LAP-band surgery a few weeks ago. A band around her stomach to make it smaller, and some additional surgery. She definitely qualified for it at 5'8" and over 300 pounds. But I'm afraid she doesn't "get" that it's not about the weight in and of itself, it's not about food. It's about using food as a drug, using the process of eating as an escape. And now it's hitting her hard. Before she had the surgery, her docs suggested that she cut back, lose some weight prior to surgery, start adjusting her eating habits. Instead she decided to live it up while she could and gained a few pounds. No attempt to develop new patterns.
So for two weeks after surgery, she was on broth, protein shakes, eventually Jello & some pureed bland veggies. I answered her phone calls when she was upset with her limited, boring diet. She just kept talking about when she could return to real food and how the weight was going to melt off her. I kept thinking about this blog and those of us who use food as a coping mechanism -- and how you fall apart if your coping mechanisms suddenly fail. So she's been back on real food for two days. I feel like I'm watching a train wreck. She had surgery that changed her stomach capacity to two tablespoons, surgery that removed the part of her stomach that makes an appetite-related hormone. So now she's looking at this tremendously reduced stomach capacity for the rest of her life and not really sensing physical hunger. She's already eaten more than her stomach can hold & thrown up as a result. Can you imagine having your relationship with food ripped away like that? Your way of dealing with stress, anger, loneliness? I'm not saying that it's in any way healthy to use food as a drug or as a coping mechanism. I'm just reeling at the thought of losing the option of eating more than an infant at one sitting. Sure, I have my food issues that I don't want to let go of, but also food is such a social thing. Family dinner? Going out to dinner? Cooking for company? I know there are times some of us have wished we didn't have to make our food decisions, didn't have to try to keep our intake not too much and not too little but just right, wished we had more control over our hunger. I know that it can be a relief to have those decisions taken away from us, whether it's through Weight Watchers or being hospitalized on an eating disorders unit. But for life? I'm an optimist. I plan to have a better relationship with food someday, to be able to experience eating as a sensory pleasure. I want to be able to try to "get normal" about food. And the more I think of having your stomach partially removed, banded -- of no longer ever having the opportunity to learn to "get normal" about food -- the more barbaric it seems to me. I know I've never had the experience of being obese, of even being anything above "average" -- but to have part of an internal organ removed?! Reader thoughts? Are you so desperate to lose weight that you'd have part of your stomach removed?
Anyway, I wandered from my point about my friend. She's lost her drug of choice, and she has nothing ready to prop her up.

Driving In My Car

2007-11-03T21:25:00.000-04:00

Tragedy...on Friday I forgot to bring a CD for my half hour drive to campus. I thus found myself listening to NPR...not necessarily a bad thing. But listening to Talk of the Nation's Science Friday left me annoyed. First, it was yet another show how about research shows what we shouldn't and should eat. Yeah I know carbs are bad and meat is good. So much for my political decision to not eat meat. And then second, the guy they're interviewing is not EVEN A SCIENTIST. He's a journalist. I know what's the big deal? Well personally I have no interest in talking food advice from a journalist.

But it gets worst...the excerpt from his book they include is a bunch of "evidence" from historical documents. He just lifts them from history and presents them as proof that people have been thinking Atkins for years. He does not analyze them in terms of their time periods, examine the motives of the writers...nothing. Nor does he take the time to find out if these people maintained any kind of weight loss.

Mostly though I'm just tired of these studies. Every other person in the "diet" world has a different take on what I shouldn't eat. If I took all their advice I'd just have to give up eating. It seems to me that what's really the problem is that maybe, just maybe we should moderate in everything. But that's just my crazy idea.

And is fat really the culprit? I'm thinking about studies that have shown that all meat diets really screw up the kidneys and liver. It seems that all this focus on fat have caused us to look away from other bodily problems. It's not just fat that causes problem, and hell, I wonder how much trouble fat really causes. But how ethical is it to focus on problem in terms of diet. Shouldn't we be approaching health from a more holistic approach. Shouldn't we be thinking about how eating effects the whole body. This is how we eat. We have all of Dr. Andrew Weil's book, and we view food as not only delicious but as a way of healing our bodies, and keeping our them strong. I don't just eat for my heart.

Fat Acceptance and the D Word

2007-10-27T23:28:00.000-04:00

By Ginger.

Well who knew...there's a whole movement out there for fat acceptance. And I think it's pretty cool except they wouldn't want me.

They wouldn't me because I "diet." But it was reading their stuff that made me realize that I didn't need to lose as much as I thought I did. And it also made me reevaluate why I wanted to lose weight in the first place, and to knock myself out of that "You need to be THIN." But I also found myself uncomfortable with their totally anti-losing weight stance. And I also totally hate their clannishness...I guess if you're fat (which even at my goal weight I am considered) but you dieted to be less fat, you're not going to be welcomed. Hmm...

Okay so anyway...why I diet. Well initially it was all about being fat and unhappy. I lost 44lbs, and was still unhappy so I ended up gaining 20lbs back. Then my body really went to hell. My joints hurt. I started to get the pinprick feelings on the bottom of my feet. The muscles in my arms hurt so bad I couldn't sleep. My back hurt. It was not fun. I realized that I had to eat better and exercise to counter this. And yeah some of that was really about having less weight on my body. And why did I join an international diet organization...well because I have this little thing called "food addiction." So when I'm upset, I don't go drinking, I eat four bags of Hershey kisses...yeah like the big ones. This keeps me from going nuts on food.

And this time when I found myself starting to get a little nuts about my weight, I paused. Okay at 153 I feel great. I'm healthy. My body doesn't hurt anymore. I don't need to be 140. And no matter how thin I get, it will not make loving my body any easier. This loving is taking some work but I'm getting there. I can look in a full length mirror and say "Hey body, you're looking good." So if dieting has brought me here. Made me healthier. Helped me control something I feel like I have little control over, then so be it. I'll just keep supporting my fat self and fat others. Because you know by most Dr.'s standards I'm still fat.

Through other's eyes

2007-10-20T20:06:00.000-04:00

Just as a follow-up to my own blog . . . . it's a shock to see yourself mirrored in someone else's eyes. I ran into an old friend yesterday. Not a real friend -- we worked together one summer. From previous gossip, I knew she'd been hospitalized for anorexia. That summer we bonded quickly over food & weight issues. Then we went back to our regular school year jobs, and she left our school system. We ran into each other at a conference. She looked horrible. I had to walk up to her and say, "How are you? You look really thin." We hugged & immediately started talking about our respective relapses. Cause her response to me was, "You look really thin too." She'd gotten married, had a daughter (they both had sons already) -- but her smile never reached her eyes, and she looked way older than she really is, because her face was so thin. I think looking at her was the most accurate reflection of myself I've seen in months.

It's funny how we adjust

2007-10-18T16:52:00.000-04:00

to what we see in the mirror, or how we feel in our clothes. I know Fat Lady #1 is an expert at not looking at herself in the mirror. I am too. It's been 8 months since I dropped from a healthy weight, and I've adjusted to my current size as "normal". I don't feel thin, like I felt when I first lost the weight. I'm back to feeling and seeing myself as being on the low end of average, despite needing to put safety pins in waistbands to keep my pants up. Realizing I've adjusted to this size by normalizing it, returning to thinking of myself as average, made me also realize that overweight people probably do the same thing. It's amazingly easy to stop looking in the mirror, stop thinking about how much space you do or don't take up in a seat. I was therefore completely shocked when a new coworker/friend referred to me as "Miss Anorexic". My first thought was that she was being silly. Except then I did the math and realized that in reality, I'm 12 pounds away from meeting the 25% weight loss criteria for anorexia. Feh. It would be nice to see myself as others see me.

Facing Facts

2007-10-04T00:41:00.000-04:00

Oh, do I have some bad habits. And, since I can't think of anything more interesting to write, I might as well just own up to some of them.

Let's start with now. It's almost 1am and instead of sleeping, I am up, eating potato chips and drinking iced tea. Admittedly, it's not completely because I feel like it. I tried to finish my work earlier, but Sugar & Spice were not being helpful. I actually let Sugar skip going to her after school program because I figured she would entertain Spice and I could finish up my work and then take them to the park. Instead, both of them demanded my attention - and the work suffered for it. But of course by the time I got them in bed, I was exhausted. I napped in the bed with Spice for about a half hour, then got up and tried to wake myself. Four or five small oatmeal raisin cookies, two glasses of iced tea, and a glass of soy chai latte later, I finally managed to get the work done. Of course now I'm awake, and why I'm eating the chips, I don't know.

All of that is about twenty different kinds of bad habits. OK, maybe not that many, but more than just a couple. I mean, I really have to figure out some kind of childcare arrangement that actually works. Because what I've been doing, clearly DOES NOT WORK. Driving to and from Brooklyn, DOES NOT WORK. Trying to get work done with Spice in the house, DOES NOT WORK. Working for 2 or 3 times more hours than I'm getting paid for DOES NOT WORK. Expecting Sugar to play with and distract Spice long enough for me to get something done DOES NOT WORK. I really need to figure out what does work and make it happen. Or rather I need to figure out something that works that I know how to make happen. I know that it would work for us to move to Brooklyn, but that's not going to happen soon.

But wait...I seem to have gotten off track. I was talking about bad habits, not complaining about how difficult it is to work without childcare. Of course one of my bad habits is dwelling on what's wrong with my life without DOING something about it. And that's one of those habits that I REALLY hate! I have so little patience for people who insist on being paralyzed rather than changing their situation. And somehow I've become one of those people. Either I'm going to have to start having more compassion for this type of person, or I'm going to have to stop being one. Probably both would be a good idea.

In another gleaming example of bad habits and being paralyzed, this morning I got up at 6am determined to do something good for my body. I know, that sounds like a good thing, right? Well it would have been if I hadn't decided to check my email before doing crunches or going out for a walk. It still could have turned out OK except that Spice woke up and wanted to nurse, and of course I couldn't deny her, so I wound up doing what I do way too much - sitting on the sofa with Spice on my lap, nursing, while I wasted time online.

And to come full circle, here I am still sitting here on the computer (the chips and tea are finished) instead of going to bed so I can try again tomorrow to get some exercise.

I think I have to start small. Maybe I need to do another challenge. Maybe a competition. I don't think of myself as a competitive person, but in reality I am. I hate to lose. Hmmm. Maybe this could be a thing. A weight loss, or exercise competition. It's worth considering. Anyone interested? In the name of helping me break bad habits.

I'll throw out a couple more bad habits, and then I'm going to bed. Home baked goods are killing me!!! Saint Aunt has nothing better to do with her time than to bake incessantly and she keeps sending that stuff home with me. She insists that it's for my kids - who don't need it either. But the reality is that late at night, I'm the one who over indulges. Sometimes it's cake - chocolate cake, upside down cake, pound cake. Sometimes it's cookies - oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip. Sometimes it's cobblers or crisps - apple, berry, peach. Really the worst for me are the oatmeal raisin cookies. Those are the ones I love the best and the ones I feel the least guilty eating. There really isn't much in them that doesn't go into a bowl of oatmeal. So, last bad habit confession for tonight, I have even convinced myself that it's OK for me to eat them for breakfast.

I really have to get in control of myself.

Fatter than ever

2007-09-30T17:03:00.000-04:00

by Fat Lady

OK, it's been a while. I know, it's been more than a while. It's been a month. Clearly I have been slacking. But no more. I'm making a commitment to writing something every day. I've been caught up in feeling that I have to have something to write about - some specific topic with a clear, thought out point of view. And I just haven't had time for all of that, so I haven't been writing. But right now I feel like I just want to write. I want to get in the habit of writing every day no matter what else is going on. And I want to get past thinking that something has to be complete, or perfect before I can put it down. I need to just write.

I also need to start clearing some crap out of my head. I can tell my brain is overfull because I've been having dreams. Really vivid, plot driven, movie-type dreams. Those usually happen for two reasons - one because there's too much in my head, and two because I've tapped into some psychic thing that I sometimes connect to that comes and goes. Of course I never know until time has passed exactly which thing is causing the dreams. When it's the psychic thing, I start discovering real-life connections to the dreams. When it's just that my brain is full, the dreams just continue for a while and then fade away - especially if I find an outlet for all my thoughts.

So, it will be fun to just kind of dump some of my extra brain-junk out here and on Sugar & Spice and see how it affects my dreams.

So, as to the title of this post, I am fatter than ever. I am at my high weight of 225. I think there's only been one time that I've weighed more than this - back before my first marriage ended I think I hit a high of 228. I've been this high a few times and I don't like it. I feel crappy, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. It is painful to be this big.

Today I'm wearing the Bull's clothes and they pretty much fit. I mean, they're certainly loose, but not so much so that anyone would say - hey those clothes are too big! No, they're just the loose side of normal. There's just no way that the clothes of a 6'4" 250lb man should fit me. Normally I don't torture myself by putting on his clothes. But today I just felt that I need to really own my size. I need to stop hiding from the fat and pretending it's not there. I am a BIG GIRL and I need to do something about it.

The big question though is why, when I'm feeling my lowest about my weight would I choose to spend the whole morning cooking - something I don't even like to do?

Sugar's friend, Ladybug, is staying with us this weekend. So I got up and made breakfast this morning. At first I was just going to make turkey bacon and eggs. But then Ladybug announced that she'd never had bacon and didn't know if she'd like it, and didn't like eggs. So, somehow I translated that into a need to make the bacon and eggs, and pancakes and biscuits. How is it that when my kid is a picky eater I tell her to basically suck it up or starve, but when someone else's kid is picky I decide to cook everything I can think of?

And why today when I was so acutely aware of my fat?

Maybe they're not related. Maybe they are. I'm not trying to figure anything out these days. I'm just writing.

Not the Biggest Loser - AGAIN

2007-08-23T15:40:00.000-04:00

by Fat Lady

So, I posted a while back about how bogus the whole "Biggest Loser" thing is and how all these people who won, or lost weight on that show gained it back.

So why is it that when I happened to see on someone's blog (I can't even give a link because I've become so immersed in blogs that sometimes I just can't remember which ones I saw stuff at) that a new season was starting - I just had to go and see if they're casting.

And why is it that, if I truly believe I don't need those "Biggest Loser" people, that I have been sitting here contemplating whether or not it would be worth it to let the Bull take the kids to Arthur Ashe Kids Day with my parents, so that I can drive to Philly for the open casting call?

And why is it, that even if I know that driving 2 hours to go stand in a line with hundreds of other obese people would be too depressing for words, I'm still contemplating filling out the application and mailing in a video?

Is it because I went to go put on a pair of jeans the other day and NONE of them fit? Is it because I tried on clothes in the store two days ago and when I got undressed, the sight of my stomach made me slightly queasy?
Maybe it's because I'm tired of trying to find a way to make time for exercise and the thought of running away from my family for a few weeks and having nothing but time for exercise sounds like the most heavenly experience I can imagine.

Ding. Ding. Ding. I think we have a winner.

I am stressed and tired and while I love my children more than anything I can imagine - the thought of large amounts of time completely by myself would be better than anything else I can think of. Better than sex, even. And normally I don't think anything is better than sex.

It may be, too, that I am just desperate for change. Desperate to do something different and yet I don't seem to be able to push myself towards change - I keep seeing the obstacles rather than the path.

The "Biggest Loser" represents change to me. I think that's the appeal. Maybe a drive to Philly wouldn't be so bad after all.

Skinny Girls

2007-08-16T18:51:00.000-04:00

Post by Ginger.

Today, I experienced, yet again, the uncomfortable feelings of being huge next a skinny girl. I hate that I feel this way. And I know that I'm not huge but there's something about around a girl who is really thin that just makes me feel enormous. The girl was not at all snotty or anything. In fact, she's really nice, and I felt bad for feeling bad around her. It's like when around someone who is thin I just lose all perspective of myself. So the whole time we were talking I was half thinking about how fat my stomach looked, and how big my legs were.

And then we started talking about clothes, and she said "You know I never wear skirts because I'm so embarrassed about my legs. They're like sticks they're so thin." And she didn't say with that kind of bitchy tone that lets you know that the person is really complimenting themselves. She really felt bad about her legs. And I was wearing a skirt, and I realized that during our talk she kept glancing at my legs. I think she was feeling the same way about me (I was wearing a skirt). It made me a lot more comfortable with her, and makes me realize that I need to get past this. We all have our insecurities, and the key seems to be not letting them rule us and our relationships.

On the Radio

2007-08-10T15:42:00.001-04:00

An interesting discussion on NPR right now. It's about the new food bill. The full broadcast will be up at six at this link. The discussion revolves around small farming, buying local, etc.

Making Peace With Food

2007-08-06T21:52:00.000-04:00

It's a book by Susan Kano. I'd love to tell you it's a book that will solve all your food-related problems, but I can't. It's a self-help/workbook type book. Supposed to help you overcome yo yo dieting, binge eating, food anxiety, body anxiety, and self-defeating guilt. All in only 230 pages! I found this book on my shelf this evening as I was searching out knitting books for baby patterns. I haven't opened this book in years. It was given to me in 1990 -- part of the inpatient treatment I was undergoing for bulimia. On the unit, we called the book, "Making Love with Food". If you think about it, it was pretty accurate for most of us. I never did much with the book. I was too busy being resistant. :-) I have a few things underlined, and only one workbook question answered: "Do you consider your hunger an enemy or a friend?" I'd answered, "An enemy, like all my physical needs." Thank god I'm more comfortable in my body now! But clearly not comfortable enough. Maybe I'll start reading this book tomorrow. I might be ready to hear more.

Environment

2007-08-05T20:24:00.000-04:00

By Ginger

This week's WW meeting was about environment. They have a chart that shows "the levels of change" one goes through in the WW process. The first thing one should/has to do is change their environment. It's funny how something so simple really can totally change how you eat.

In our house, there are no carby packaged snacks except for graham crackers. If I have anything else around I'll binge. This means those nifty 100 cal. packs. This means cookies. Anything really. I can handle having low fat ice cream but that's it. We load up on fruit, veggies, etc, and that's our snacky food. The kids resisted at first but now they think nothing of grabbing an apple or pear. And we do have junk but we go out to get it instead of keeping it in our home. This leads to better quality choices. Instead of loading up on Chips Ahoy, I'll share half a slice of Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake with H. The kids are learning that quality beats quantity hands down. And we're all learning that fruit and veggies fill our hunger better than processed stuff.

And it's not just food. I realized last year that a neat, organized, well-stocked kitchen inspired me to cook more. Investing in some quality cooking tools has really paid off in terms of better food, and more of it. We hardly ever eat out anymore because I can recreate most of what we eat here. And I love cooking. Changing how my kitchen looked, what tools I used, turned cooking into a hobby as opposed to a chore.

This week our leader challenged us to make a simple change in our environment. I decided that I needed to make exercise more visible. I was getting pretty bored with one of my workout DVDS so I decided this would be my change. New DVDS on the shelf to inspire me to keep moving (I've been working almost everyday since the Women's Health Challenge in May). I checked Netflix and found that they have a bunch of DVDs by the Firm (an system that kicks my butt and that I love). So I put a few in my que to try out. And come pay time, I'm going to pick up some workout outfits, and a new pair of sneakers. I'm hoping this investment will pay off as well.

The vagaries of scales

2007-08-05T06:52:00.001-04:00

by Ros

First of all, I know all the wisdom, I shouldn't weigh myself, should go by how my clothes fit, don't weigh myself every day, blah blah blah. Can't do it. I've owned a scale since 1983, and I'm not about to give it up. I DID go buy a new one recently, having acknowledged that the one I'd had since I lived at 35 5th Ave. in Manhattan (1983) was most likely not the most accurate thing any more, and I got tired of having the doctor's office numbers be different. So I went and got a lovely electronic thing from Target, one with memory, does body fat percentage after you program in your height, gender, age . . . . great toy. And it IS more accurate than my old one. Except this week, I must not have had it on even floorboards one day. In the morning, straight out of the shower, it looked like I'd finally gained another two pounds. This would be a good thing, still leaving me less than before Dork broke my heart, but numbers close to the "normal" range. And then just for the hell of it, I weighed myself that night too, and I was up another three pounds from the weight of what I'd eaten & drunk that day. This is good. Except that the next morning, I was freaking NINE pounds lighter than I'd been the night before. You know there's no way that could really happen unless I'd cut off a body part.
But it was a good experience for me to look at those higher numbers on the scale and think "healthy" instead of "AAAH".

What the World Eats

2007-07-28T10:48:00.000-04:00

by Fat Lady

I'm sorry folks. I posted this last week, when I was insanely busy (I keep thinking work will slow down, but it never does) and I made the headline the link - hoping to at least give people a glimpse of this interesting perspective from Time.

I had seen part of it in Time Magazine and then my friend Amy sent me an email with more of it, that I couldn't figure out how to forward here. So I finally just got the link to the Time website and posted that alone because I wanted to just get it out there.

It is fascinating to me to see how differently people eat around the world - and how little it is possible for people to survive on. I sat Sugar down with me to look through these images and see what people eat because she frequently claims she is "STAARRRRVVVINNNNGGGG!!!!" and I wanted her to see just how far from starving she actually is.

It was also fun, with her, to look for how few vegetables or fruits certain families were eating - we decided that we ate much more like people in Poland, Kuwait, China, and other countries where lots of fruits and veggies were displayed, rather than like either of the American families. The NC family only had a bunch of grapes and 2 tomatoes, at least the California family had some broccoli thrown in with a few oranges and bananas.

Looking at all of it made me realize how much I really need to start grocery shopping on a regular basis. As it is now, we pretty much shop the same day we cook - and that makes for poor choices. Often really bad choices, because we'll order in rather than going to the store.

I have tried, in the past, to make menus for the month and then shop each week according to the menu. It works quite nicely, but I need the time to get myself together to do that.

Another thing I realized from looking at these pictures is that children will eat what exists in their world. I know SO many finicky kids - and my kids will try to be picky eaters at times. I consider myself lucky because they love fruits and vegetables - but when I look at families who primarily only offer fruits and vegetables, I wonder how much it has to do with luck and how much it has to do with what we have in our homes and make available to our kids.

We have SO much choice here. We can eat pretty much how people eat in any part of the world. We could adopt the diets of any of the family's pictured. And we can teach our children to like those foods, just as the children of those countries like the food that they eat everyday. American baby and child tastebuds aren't different from anyone else's are they?

I think I will try to make a point of trying a new food at least every month. Something I would never have considered eating, if I can find something I never even heard of - more the better.

Just to go off on a fantasy for a moment. I would love to not have to work and be able to home school Sugar. I would teach her geography and world culture through food. We could go visit different parts of the city and try foods from all over the world and then go home and read about what life is like in those countries and why they eat the foods they do.

Part of this fantasy is inspired by the Time article, but part of it comes from our trip to the Brooklyn Children's Museum this week. When we arrived they were doing a short program on Ethiopia. They talked to the kids about where Ethiopia is, what the climate is like and what kinds of foods they eat. I even learned a new thing - that Ethiopian food is spicy because spicy food makes you sweat, and sweating cools your body off. They showed them pictures of how the food is served, in these large flat baskets. And then they did a craft of weaving construction paper into baskets. SO COOL!!! I loved this program and would love to reconstruct it for Sugar (and Spice too - if she'll sit still at all), but with my crazy and erratic schedule I don't know how I would manage to make it work.

Still, I think learning about food around the world. Learning how people eat, I think teaches about culture and also reflects on our own culture, on our habits. And I'd like to spend some time teaching Sugar and Spice about these things as part of helping them develop healthy ideas about food and eating.

*****

You know I started to post this and then I came back because my last two sentences really struck me. Learning about how the world eats, really can be a big part of developing healthy eating habits. As I wrote that, I immediately thought that when I was a kid I knew absolutely nothing about how people ate in the rest of the world. All I was told was, "Clean your plate there are people starving in China (or Africa)." That's it, that I should over-eat because somewhere there were kids without enough food to eat. What kind of eating values does that teach? I'm so happy to have the information and resources available to teach my kids about how people throughout the world eat. And the ability to look at it from a different perspective than I was taught.

Hey Fattie, Have Some Self Control

2007-07-27T09:40:00.000-04:00

Post by Ginger

I stumbled on a site called "Slate" which I suspect is satirical in nature. It's hard-edged, witty and for the most part, smart. However, I had to read a post called "Fat Lies: Obesity, Laxity and Political Correctness" by William Saletan. I don't know why I read this stuff. I know it's going to set me off but like a moth to the flame, I read and burn.

The article begins with a critique of the metaphor of contagion for reports on new research that having fat friends makes one fat. Saletan takes issues with this metaphor because he feels it excuse fatness. It lets fat people off the hook by making obesity something that infects them. Saletan says that fat is spread culturaly and thus " through the relaxation of standards of personal discipline."

Began rant: I have way too many skinny friends who sit and huge amounts of junk. One girl I know sat and ate three king size Reeces Cups washed down with a bottle of coke in one 2 1/2 hour class period. I've watched thin moms eat a bag of chips with chicken salad sandwiches. Is this self control? Do they have personal discipline just because they're thin? I don't get why the assumption is that if you're thin you have some kind of ethical sense of personal responsibility. What blows my mind is that most of the fat people I know have way more self discipline than the thin people. We watch everything we eat, we exercise every day, we go to meetings, we try new diets.l None of my thin friends write down everything they eat. They don't get up at 7 am so that they can exercise for an hour. And in addition, is it fair to suggest that fat people have no discipline whatsoever because they might lack it in one area?

Finally the conclusion of Saletan's article:

To resist a fattening norm, you need willpower. To reverse it, you need to promote responsibility, which implies blame. You almost certainly need stigma. And realistically, to add normal or underweight friends to your circle, you have to relegate others who are overweight. That may be bad for your fat ex-friends, who will lose your friendship as well as your thinness. But it's fine for you, since you'll have just as many friends as before.

Yes, lets just blame fat people. Let's ignore the irresponsibility of fast food joints, food manufactures. Let's ignore the emotional pain that most fat people carry with them. Better yet let's stigmatize fatty. Let's drop our friendships with all the fat people. Hey if we make them feel really bad about themselves maybe they'll get that will power. Maybe they'll kick themselves in the arse and start losing some weight. I get that only you can make a choice to change. But I also think that in the US we have a strong sense of "pulling oneself up by the bootstraps." We pretend that we are lone individuals and that there is no such thing as cultural influences. We have forgotten to a large extent that we live in a community, and that the community influences us. It influences us so strongly that it can even shape our bodies.

Letting myself off the hook...

2007-07-26T02:00:00.000-04:00

by Fat Lady

Which does not mean giving up - but more on that in a minute.

I had a few revelations recently. The first came when I read an article that said that 82% of African American women over the age of 40 are overweight or obese.

The second came in considering my life-long relationship with my mother compared to my relationship with my Saint Aunts and the rest of my father's family.

And the third came from looking at my life overall, including my relationship with the Bull, my position as a mother (including breastfeeding), my work situation, and my social life/life outside of motherhood and career.

Now this article had a slow and quiet impact on me. At first I just brushed it aside and didn't pay it much mind. But that 82% number kept tapping on my brain until I had to start looking at it and thinking about it.

82 percent of African-American women over the age of 40 are overweight or obese compared to the national average of 64 percent.

That means MOST black women over 40 are overweight. Not just some, or even a lot, but almost all! To me when the numbers are this large - it means that it's not an individual problem.

I mean, I remember when Sugar was born and I would read these books and articles about how to solve your infant's "sleep disorders." This confused me because I figured if almost ALL infants didn't sleep at night, then it wasn't a disorder; it was the norm. And if it's normal for infants to be awake at night, why would I want to try to train my infant to not wake up?

So, now, if the overwhelming majority of black women are overweight - then I can only come to two conclusions. Either, one - standards are skewed and the black women are not overweight, but are the size they're supposed to be, or two - there is an overlying problem that is affecting the weight of black women, almost across the board. Either way, what I don't conclude is that almost every single black woman over 40 in this country is lazy and undisciplined or otherwise lacking in will power. Which is what I've been telling myself is why I'm fat. So maybe, just maybe this is something, in one way or another, goes far beyond my own individual shortcomings.

But, if I do want to look at some of the underlying issues that I have as an individual about food and weight, than they're pretty big and obvious. I spent most of my childhood and teenage years going back and forth between my mother and my father's family.

Throughout the school year I spent the week at my mother's home and anytime I wasn't in school - weekends, summer, long holidays, etc. I was with my father or his family - usually at my grandparents' house.

When I was with my mother, food and attention were both restricted. I had to ask permission for pretty much anything I wanted to eat and my mother was generally too busy with her life to spend much time being concerned with mine. On the flip side, when with my father's family, which generally included the Saint Aunts, my grandparents - most importantly my grandmother, and a spattering of other aunts who came in and out of the house, usually with my cousins in tow, both food and attention were plentiful and forthcoming. I could eat pretty much whatever I wanted and as much of it as I wanted. I was constantly talked to, held and hugged, and continually instructed and informed. We kids had our spaces to play in (mostly the basement and the backyard) but whenever we were in the room with the adults they had an eye on us and we knew it - "Stand up straight," "Here's the right way to hold your fork," "Come give me a hug," "Let me see what you drew there," and on and on.

Whenever I would come home from extended stays with the Family, I would always be a few pounds heavier, and much happier. And I would have to pay for it, by having my food restricted even more. By the time I was a teenager, I had grown to dread spending time with the Family because I knew I would put on weight and would have to pay for it. Food was the enemy then and I would do anything...ANYTHING to be thin.

But, now, having spent years outside of my mother's influence, I can't help but consider how it is that I associate food with love, food with comfort, food with caring. The Saint Aunts still feed me an outrageous amount. I fuss at Saint Aunt #1 continually for sending me home with way too much food every time I visit with her - which is at least once a week. As I've mentioned before - the last time I visited with Narcissa - she starved Sugar by just neglecting to feed her for something like 7 hours.

There is definitely a strong, strong, strong connection in me between food and comfort and, I guess, even love. Not that I can't overcome that connection. Not that I can't find healthier ways of working through it. And I can't beat myself up because I haven't yet been able to conquer something that was many, many, many years in the making.

And then there's my life. First of all - on a physical level. I'm still breastfeeding and that alone is good for a number of pounds - at least 25. I know that many women lose a considerable amount of weight while nursing. I am not one of these women. I held onto 25 extra pounds until I stopped nursing Sugar. But as soon as she was fully weaned the weight just dropped off without me making any conscious decision to do anything about it. So, I fully accept that no matter what I do, a certain amount is staying on me until Spice decides (as Saint Aunt #1 would say) to give up the boob.

But that's a physical thing, not really about my life - which I know is a huge factor. I am unhappy and unsatisfied in so many areas of my life. My work, my home life with the girls and with the Bull, my social life, following my dreams - all of them are seriously lacking - lacking in every way and I often feel trappped and overwhelmed.

How in the world can I possibly think I can seriously change my weight - anything about my physical appearane - when there are so many other things that I don't have control over. Losing weight is not going to make me happy if everything else is messed up. But I have a really strong inclination that if I can manage to clean everything else up and be happy, that the weight will come off.

So what does all this mean? Does it mean that I give up? That there's too much in the way - physiology, happiness, society, etc - of me being thin? Should I just accept being fat and stop all this nonsense of tracking my food and diet and rambling on here about various weight-related issues?

Nope, I don't think so. I don't give up quite that easy. What it means is that I'm letting myself off the hook. I'm not going to beat myself up about it anymore. I'm going accept the fact that this is a long journey and one that is going to require me to head down many roads. I might, ultimately, wind up thin. But even if I don't, I want to know that I spent some time in my life pursuing some things that really matter rather than constantly worrying about whether or not to have dessert.

Motivation comes in all forms

2007-07-21T01:33:00.000-04:00

by Fat Lady

And tonight my motivation to get exercise came out of the need to read. To read the latest Harry Potter novel.

I walked more than 20 blocks and stood in line for close to an hour to get my hands on the book. And then walked most of the way back home.

I had Lilacblue, her Ladybug and my Sugar to keep me company. And we were lucky enough to run into another mom whose kid goes to Sugar's and Ladybug's school. I've always known I liked this person, but haven't gotten to hang out with her much. She really livened up the line and made it fun - so I've got to call her Kid at Heart.

It's 1:45 and I've got to get started reading.

Getting mad works wonders

2007-07-15T13:46:00.001-04:00

by Fat Lady

And feeling good, keeps them going.

I woke up this morning still feeling angry at the Bull for that bike ride yesterday. Which was good, because it made me determined to get out of the house. It made me want to do something for myself - spend time alone, enjoy feeling my body move.

I want to be strong and fit, not just because it's a good way to be, but as a kind of "fuck you" to him for not being a part of helping and supporting me in getting there.

Yeah, I know, it's not good to be this angry at someone you live with and love. I probably deserve to be with a man who I have more positive feelings about. But the reality is that this severe animosity towards the Bull is something that comes and goes. Next week I might love him so fiercely and feel we're so compatible that I won't be able to remember exactly why it is that I get so intensely mad at him sometimes. It's not the perfect relationship. It's not the one I always wanted. But it works more often than it doesn't these days. And it's a lot better than trying to take care of these two girls on my own and sleeping in an empty bed. And if I believe that when I'm also feeling angry and vengeful then it must not be too bad.

Anyway, I hit the road this morning with an "I'll show him" attitude. This was not easy because Spice did NOT want me to go. She tried to hang on to me when she realized I was going somewhere. We never wear shoes in the house, so as soon as she saw me with shoes on, she knew something was up. Ultimately I distracted her with food, her sister, and a movie and headed out the door. We live on the second floor of our building and I could hear her screaming her indignation even when I was in the bike room, which is a flight down and at the end of a hallway and through 3 doors. She was pissed!

There was a time when this would have had me back in the house, sitting down with he in my lap, nursing. But I'm in a different place right now. I LOVE my kids and I want to make them happy. But I'm going to lose my damned mind if I don't start taking care of me. I've done the self-deprivation thing WAY too long. I had no idea I was capable of sacrificing so much of myself and remaining sane. But it's starting to eat away at my sanity now - seriously - and I'm not giving that up anymore than it's already compromised by my naturally wacky personality.

So I took my bike and went right out the door. I stood in front of the building deciding what music to listen to - I was initially attracted to Corinne Bailey Rae, then considered Dionne Farris. Oddly, I settled on Simon and Garfunkle. Something about their old, mournful voices felt right for me. And it takes me back to my teenage years, being young and focused on myself. That felt right.

I biked over to the handball courts in the park with my tennis racket on my back. Once there I started to hit the ball. Awkward at first, the instruction I'd gotten earlier in the summer quickly came back to me and I started hitting better and better. Just when I started to get bored and tired I decided to switch to the Black Eyed Peas. I thought something a little more upbeat might help me keep going. And boy did it ever!

I started hitting with such power and accuracy that I couldn't stop. It felt so good!!! The music, my body moving with it and doing what I wanted it to do!! I remembered why the last time I lost a considerable amount of weight that exercise was such a big part of it. Exercise, when it's something fun and your body does what you want is incredible!!!

My friend Bear Maiden recently asked on the sidebar of her blog for suggestions of things that are better than sex. When I read it I laughed! NOTHING is better than sex I thought! Not even Junior's cheesecake or my stepmom's dark chocolate cake with whippedcream/cream cheese frosting or even the latest Harry Potter novel. Nothing. But today I remembered there is something. That high that comes from feeling your body do just what you want it do. That's better than sex. Better than any food.

So I got into a groove and I forgot for a little while about anger and vengeance and just reveled in feeling my body move. I know the other people on the handball courts (a skinny middle-aged man and a prissy looking elderly woman) must have thought I was out of my mind smiling like a fool and dancing my way back to the baseline whenever I missed a shot. But I don't care. I think they'd love to feel as good as I did at that moment.

Time to "Do me"

2007-07-14T18:24:00.000-04:00

Post by Fat Lady

When I met the Bull almost 12 years ago I was thin and fit. I'd just lost 75lbs and I worked out EVERY day. My stomach was flat, my legs were toned. I didn't just feel good about how I looked, I felt good, period.

As often happens when you get into a relationship, I got lazy. I would rather cuddle up next to him in the morning than jump out of bed and go rollerblading or do crunches. But, I was still on it. When I felt my energy lagging or my weight creeping up, I was right back out there, getting the exercise that I needed.

Then about a year and a half after we met, my back went out. I mean it really went out. I couldn't sit, I could barely stand, and walking was excrutiatingly painful. I did a kind of old lady shuffle. The only positions that were even remotely comfortable were flat on my back or on my stomach with about 3 pillows piled under my hips. I went to chiropractors, orthopedic surgeons and physical therapists and had all kinds of tests, including a nerve test that hurt like hell and an MRI which is just torture for someone as claustrophobic as I am. I had the choice of going through physical therapy and waiting, or doing surgery. I was not down for surgery - and all the research I did said that a year later - people who had surgery and those who did physical therapy alone were in the same condition. So physical therapy it was.

After about 4 months I was close to being back to myself. Except that I had regained about half of the weight I'd lost. And I'd lost all motivation to exercise. Well, not all of it, but a lot.

Over the next few years I kept trying to exercise with the Bull. It just seemed like the right way to go as a couple. We were both concerned with being healthy and in shape and keeping our weight down - so it just made sense to me that we should do it together. Except for one little thing.

When it comes to certain things, the Bull is a selfish bastard. There's just no way around it. He refused, time and again, to curb his exercise in any way to meet my level so that we could work together. We tried numerous times, walking or jogging together. He would always jog or walk ahead by about a quarter of a mile. Even after Sugar was born he would do this. I had a plan to get back in shape and keep post partum depression at bay - and it was exercise. Get out there and walk the pounds and blues away.

Well, the first time the Bull and I went out he had Sugar in the carrier to free me up to concentrate on walking. And I thought, now it will be different. He won't leave me to walk alone now that it's the three of us. Wrong. As soon as we hit the Reservoir he took off - gone, ahead of me, sometimes far enough to be out of sight completely. By the end of the walk I was in tears. Barely 6 weeks after giving birth I was still in that insane new mother attachment stage. Seeing someone - even the man I love and her father - walking away from me with my child just tore me up. And why couldn't he understand that? I tried a few more times, but each time he would jet ahead - even though I'd told me how much it bothered me. I finally gave up and settled in to eating Entenmann's Cinnamon Swirl Buns instead. By the time Sugar was 3 months old I'd gained close to 40 pounds. That was a real low point for me and it was the beginning of me seriously using food as a kind of salve to ease emotional pain. Before that I'd had my struggles with weight and my issues with food, but I'd never really used it in that way.

It was also pretty much the beginning of me refusing to exercise with the Bull. I knew I was just setting myself up to be hurt and upset, so I avoided it altogether. We've done little things together - the occasional short bike ride, we've played tennis together - but I hate playing with him because he thinks he's SO much better than me that he doesn't really play and hits the ball all crazy, being very exaggerated about making it easy for me.

But today I got suckered back in as I periodically do. All in the name of a "family activity." We decided to all ride our bikes together to Sugar's tennis lesson and then afterwards go for a ride. Sounds good, right? All of us together, riding along, having fun. I'd bought a bike seat last year that was supposed to be for Spice to ride on my bike, but it doesn't fit my bike well, so it goes on the Bull's bike. And Sugar is an excellent rider at 8 years old - better and stronger than me by a long shot. So we could, feasibly, take a pretty decent ride. Except we've done this before and I know that I always end up riding pretty much alone, bringing up the rear. Sometimes if I get far enough behind they will wait for me to catch up, but no one ever rides with me, near me. But I figured, what the hell, maybe today will be better. We could stop along the way, see things. Whatever.

Well, after Sugar's class everyone was hungry so we went to look for food. First we went to check out a restaurant in the park. We climb this insanely big hill to get to it and I'm proud because even though I downshift, I stay on the bike instead of walking up the hill. We get to the restaurant, but it's too pricey for us this weekend (both the Bull and I are waiting for checks that are apparently lost in the mail). So we decide to head out of the park. I'm still out of breath from the big hill and thinking I have time because the way out I'm thinking of has a long straight-away and then a steady climb out of the park. But no...the Bull makes a sudden turn and goes up a steep hill.

I curse but follow him and make it up that hill. Now I'm really out of breath and hating him for taking this harder path. But then he turns again and goes up another, even steeper, much longer hill and speeds up it out of my sight in an instant.

In that moment I flashed back to every single time he's run ahead, biked ahead, left me behind when I thought I was doing something with a companion, a partner. And I realized that though, he does provide a good deal of help, and I love him and I want him in his daughter's life on a daily basis - he is never, ever going to be a partner, a companion to me the way I want one. That anything I chose to do I had better be prepared to do it by myself. Because he's always going to go ahead and do what he does, what feels easy or right for him without a second glance back to consider whether or not it works for me.

So if I want to get in shape. If I want to exercise, if I want the time to myself to get the body I want, I had better take what I want and "do me." So, that's where I'm headed. I'm going to stop putting other stuff first - even the kids. Let him figure out how to take care of the girls while I'm gone working out, the same way as I figure it out when he goes off to play tennis for 2 and 3 hours at a time. I might not be through with him, but I'm through with putting up with this particular brand of his bullshit. And when I'm in shape and I can bike up the hills, maybe I'll be leaving him huffing and puffing at the the bottom.

In fact, considering that he's 7 years older than I am and prone to arthritis I did get this image in my head of him wanting me to walk beside him as he hobbles along holding a rocker and me saying, "Remember all those times when you ran ahead of me, well payback is a bitch!" as I run off out of his sight.

Sugar & Spice

2007-07-14T17:36:00.000-04:00

Post by Fat Lady

Sometimes I have good ideas. Sometimes my good ideas come after I've implemented my OK ideas and I have to backtrack. This is one of those times.

When I was deciding how to refer to my girls on this blog, Spice was and easy name to come up with for my youngest. She shares her name with a Spice and she is a "spicy" kind of kid. She's feisty and challenging and she adds some flavor to every situation - but if you take too big a bite of her you will definitely get burned.

For my oldest I chose MamasGirl because that's what she calls herself. For years people would see her and say, "Oh I bet she's a Daddy's girl." And we'd all kind of laugh because though her father and her are close, she's always shown a preference for me. And finally about 2 or 3 years ago she looked at me and said, "I know what I am, I'm a Mama's girl!!" So that's the name I chose for here, even though I wasn't feeling it 100%.

Then yesterday I happened to hear that old rhyme, "Little girls are sugar and spice and everything nice." And I had a big "DUH!" moment, when I thought, that's what I should have called my oldest - Sugar!!! She is sweet as sugar. So incredibly sweet. And definitely that sweetness is a contrast to my other child's spiciness (that looks SO strange, but it doesn't set off the spell check). And not only is she naturally sweet in all the wonderful ways that children can be sweet, but also she uses her sweetness in all kinds of ways, but particularly to get her way.

So, I have re-dubbed her Sugar. I hope it doesn't cause too much confusion.

Fragile Food

2007-07-12T17:57:00.000-04:00

Written by Ginger

I am a woman who loves her food. I love the taste, texture, and aroma of food. When I go to eat Indian, I have to spend a few moments savoring the spicy smells coming from the kitchen. And if the restaurant tries to block that smell...then I want to leave. There's nothing worst than a sterile restaurant.

But I am also a food addict. I use food the way some people use heroin. When I sad, angry, bored, confused, whatever, just pass the potato chip bag. A friend recently tried to commemorate with me by saying "Oh yeah I over did it today. I ate a cookie at my grandparents' house and then had another one at my mom's." Umm...girlfriend, I ate the WHOLE bag. See once I start eating I can't stop. The sheer amount of food I can consume amazes me: a pint of Ben and Jerry's (or two), a whole pack of nobake cookies from Walmart, an entire pizza, three or four candy bars, half a full size cake. And then afterwards, I lay on my bed sobbing, sick to my stomach and totally repulsed by myself.

Balancing these two things in my life is very difficult. I need to control my food intake, but I also need to do in such a way that I do not deny myself the pleasure of food and eating. I am not willing to give that up. I want to be able to keep cooking up new food creations, and to savor them. But I also have to walk this thin line between eating for the pleasure of food vs eating for the pleasure food brings. It's not easy to tell these two part. Thus every eating situations becomes fraught with emotions.

Lately these moments have become so painful and hard that I've been turned off eating. Normally I love grocery shopping. I love lingering over the vegetable, picking out exotic fruits to try, imaginings the new things I can cook. But the last few times I've been shopping I felt very fragile. I felt like any kind of food was going to send me over the edge. Cooking meals is a torture. I have to feed my kids but I'm so churned up over food that this simple act of care feels like a minefield. And feeding myself? Argh. I find myself forcing food into my mouth, quickly to get it over with.

I realize I have an eating disorder. I can no longer pretend that my size is fine (which it is really...I'm healthy) and that I don't mind my body. I do mind it but it has more to do with the emotional issues that propel me to eat then it does with my actual body (which is much larger in my mind than in the actual).

The Hate Factor

2007-07-10T00:30:00.000-04:00

Written by Fat Lady

I should go to sleep. Tomorrow is a busy day. But I'm both a little giddy and a little uncomfortable with the fact that Spice and MamasGirl are spending the night at Saint Aunt's. It's my first night away from Spice. I know she's fine, but it feels weird knowing she's not in the next room. And I'm feeling some guilt about the whole thing too - which fits in with this hate thing, I guess. So I might as well write about it.

Ros brought up in her comments about alli - how the side effects of the drug play so well into the negative mind games people put themselves through when it comes to controlling their weight.

How many times have said, or heard others say, "Well, I at that piece of cake, so I'm going to have to pay for it - it's a hundred extra crunches tonight (or 10 extra minutes on the treadmill or whatever)?" How many times have I denied myself substantial food as punishment for not exercising. How many exercise and weight-loss programs have had catch phrases that talk about how you HAVE to suffer to be in shape. FEEL THE BURN, NO PAIN NO GAIN, etc.

But, doesn't all that self-hate, self-punishment really have the opposite effect? I mean, how good can anyone treat themselves if they believe that they are bad and deserve to be punished. And just how long can anyone stick with a method of anything that requires regularly punishing oneself?

The one time in my life I lost a considerable amount of weight and kept it off for an extended period, I made a conscious decision to flip the hate factor on it's ear.

Instead of telling myself that I had to eat salad as punishment for being bad and not exercising, I told myself that I would have a salad as a treat to myself. I didn't want to make myself feel all sluggish and awful. A salad would take care of my hunger and leave me feeling energetic and ready to go. I didn't go out rollerblading in the morning as punishment for having a drink or dessert with dinner the night before. I went out because it felt good to experience the morning air on face as I skated through the park. I didn't push myself to skate the extra half mile because I'd been lazy the day before - but because I knew pushing myself a little harder would give me that wonderful endorphin high! Everything about eating right and exercising was to make myself feel good. There was no punishment, no atoning for exercise and diet sins - just a focus on making myself feel better.

And it worked!! I started looking forward to healthier foods. Started getting excited about getting out and exercising. It was wonderful!!!

So, now I have to ask myself, why is it so hard for me to get back to it? I know what to do. I know how to frame all of it in a positive, healthy light that will keep me committed to it - but I don't do it. Why?

I used to think that I was just trading in feeling healthy and good, for immediate gratification and control. Feeling down or overwhelmed or put upon - a piece of cake or a scoop of ice cream or a glass of chocolate soy milk is a quick easy, legal way to numb the feelings, distract from the worries. It put good feelings at my fingertips and I professed to myself that I wouldn't give it up until other things in my life improved.

But the reality is that my eating and exercise habits got to the point where they were making it impossible for anything else to improve. How could I make things better if I was feeling tired and sluggish all day from eating crap and not getting any exercise?

Of course, I say all this in the past tense as thought it was all so horrible and not it's better. But of course, we know it's not better. Well, not a lot better. I am not eating junkfood 24/7 like I had been for the past couple of years. I'm pretty much down to once, sometimes twice a day - and some days I skip the crap altogether. But I'm still using food as a bit of a psychological/emotional cushion. I'm still eating things I know are going to make my body feel bad. And I have to wonder why, since I certainly know better.

I think there's some self-hatred still lingering inside me. I've spent years trying to rid myself of it. And honestly I like myself a whole hell of a lot better now than I ever have before at any point in my life. But I still have those moments.

I yell at the girls, or don't manage to follow through on something for them; I feel like I didn't come through with something for work, or worse, I feel like I'm letting them take advantage of me; I feel bad that I just can't deal with Narcissa enough to call her regularly, I let too much time go by without checking in with a friend who I know could use some help - the list goes on and on. I hit these little mental and emotional fall outs all the time - and EVERY TIME I choose food to help me through it. Which I know FULL WELL, is actually making all of it worse. The food is giving me a false sense of being OK when I know in reality it's setting me up to feel worse later. But it's like I'm addicted to both the positive and the negative feelings I have when I eat crap.

I can see it clearly when I eat too much. I sit there feeling full and uncomfortable and I remind myself of how when I was healthily thin I felt much better than I do at the moment of eating half a box of girls scout cookies. But I deserve to feel this way. Deserve it for eating too much, deserve it for not being open and friendly to new people, deserve it for not being pretty and vibrant enough to make the Bull just downright passionate about me. So I will punish myself by making my body feel full and awful and, well, over-stuffed.

I don't know. Is is really so hard to just accept and love myself. I frequently feel that I'm going about all this weight-loss stuff the wrong way. That what I should be doing is focusing on loving myself and seeing my self-worth and beauty just the way I am right now. I think if I could do that the pounds would just melt away. And even if they didn't - at least I would have found a way to be happy.

My Big Fat Thoughts

2007-07-09T10:41:00.000-04:00

Written by Fat Lady

So, I'm always thinking about what I should write about next. Sometimes things just hit me and sometimes I draw a blank. Unfortunately, it usually happens that things just hit me when I don't have time to write, and when I do have time to write - I draw a blank.

So, I decided I should start writing down the ideas when they hit me, so that when I have time - I'll have a list of things to write about. But, if you know me - you know that I will easily lose just about anything. So, where to keep a list of ideas for this blog where I won't lose it? How about on the blog? So, there's yet another new section to the side bar (I might have to start looking at 3 column templates so that I have 2 sidebars) called My Big Fat Thoughts.

It's really just my way of keeping a list of ideas. But I guess it gives anyone who cares a peek at might be coming up next.

Html Challenges

2007-07-08T16:46:00.000-04:00

OK, so I wasn't sure I was feeling that woman and since most of you weren't either, I decide to get rid of her.

But, as I said, I know nothing about HTML/XML and I found it rather intimidating. I mean all those lines of what looks like random symbols and letters. But deep down I knew I could make at least a little sense of it.

So, I started last night with setting up my new blog. There are some things I still can't figure out there. Like the type in the sidebar is right up against the border, and the header isn't as wide as I'd like it. But still, I managed to tackle it a little and I know much more than I did before. So I'm pretty proud of myself.

Plus it gave me the courage to try to change the picture here.

Turns out that it really wasn't hard at all - only took me 2 tries. The hardest part was finding a picture. I'm not thrilled with this one - but it works for now, I guess, while I keep looking.

Who is She?

2007-07-07T19:16:00.000-04:00

That woman at the top of this page. I have no idea. I've been trying to give this blog a look I like. I knew I wanted something clean and open looking, but with a little flair to it. But I don't know HTML or XML or anything that would allow me to create a look I want and the standard templates just weren't doing it for me.

So I went searching for other templates. I found one I liked, but I couldn't make it work. And then I came across this template. I really like it, but there are a couple of things I don't like - there really isn't enough room for a description under the title in the header. And at first I thought I should delete the woman on the top - but it was going to be a complicated thing to do that, so I thought - eh, what the hell, I'll leave her for the time being.

After messing around with the template and putting back some things it deleted, she's started to grow on me. She's neither fat nor skinny - and I like that. Somehow, too, she seems confident and comfortable with herself. And she looks like she's thinking about something.

So, what do you all think? Should she stay, or go?

How we fit clothing on our bodies

2007-07-07T09:49:00.000-04:00

Or how we don't fit it, depending on how we see our bodies. We can start with how many of us have looser clothes for those days when we feel heavier, whether it's PMS water retention or we're just feeling fat. Some of us have two or three different sets of clothing to accommodate our weight swings, maybe that pair of "skinny jeans" tucked away in the closet. But how do those of us with body issues manage to fit clothing onto our bodies on a daily basis?
I know some of you are stuck shopping at Lane Bryant. I'm not. But it turns out I do the same dressing-room dash. You know, grab a few things, go in, only halfway look at yourself in the mirror, try to figure out what you're going to gain or lose in the near future, pick a size, leave. For a few years there, I didn't do this. I knew what brands fit me, I'd take my time looking for flattering pants that were the right length. Part of my backsliding this spring has apparently involved forgetting how to look at myself, how to be "in" my body. How else to explain my new shorts? I bought two pairs last week. I needed shorts that were long enough to wear in public, I'd gotten rid of one unflattering pair last summer, so I needed new ones. I brought two sizes into the dressing room, tried both. Picked the smaller size, left. But I must have been suffering dressing-room dissociation, because these shorts -- and the pants that I got to go with my new killer sandals -- are just too damn big. As in, I can pull the waistband out so far from my waist that I can see down the gap to my knees. Whose body was I using when I tried these on?! So not only do I not see my body size as others do, I apparently can't even pick out the right size clothing these days.

Adding On

2007-07-06T10:06:00.000-04:00

You may have noticed a new title to the blog today - and some new names in the "Contributors" list on the side.

I have asked two friends, Ros and Ginger, who also have intense relationships with food and body image to join me in "singing" about these issues.

Though Ginger and I both weigh more than we want to, she has a different perspective on food and eating and weight than I do. One of the things that I feel very strongly about weight is that there isn't one right solution out there because there isn't only one reason why people weigh more than they want to, and not everyone gains or loses in the same way. Having another contributor to this blog discussing the desire to lose from a different perspective, I think, really rounds out the discussion.

I asked Ros to join us because even though she's skinny and I'm fat, I've found that our discussions about food and diet and how we've used them are actually quite similar. I don't want this blog to be all about being fat - I want it to be an open discussion about how people use food and diet in their lives. I think Ros adds an interesting perspective and reflection from the other side of the food issue coin.

I'm excited about the shape this blog is taking.

I won't be making friends with alli

2007-07-06T10:05:00.000-04:00

For the last few weeks, whenever I go into one of the many drugstores in my neighborhood (why are there SO MANY drugstores in Manhattan - I swear there's one on every other corner), my eye is drawn to this display. The designer/marketing person in me can't help but admire it - it's clean and bright and friendly with just the right amount of bright color to catch the eye and hold it.

I find myself drawn to it every time. I always think, "What's that? That looks like something I might want to try." And then I see that it's alli - the latest diet product available on the market. Produced by GlaxoSmithKline it's the first over the counter diet pill approved by the FDA.

It's marketed, not so much as a diet pill, but as part of a program designed to change eating habits and give an extra boost to weight loss. Their tag line is, "alli. If you have the will, we have the power.™" Which means, you have to be willing to diet and do exercise on your own. But if you make the changes, alli will help you lose even more weight than you would just making those changes alone. So, according to their website, if you would lose 10 pounds through diet and exercise alone, you could lose 15 pounds if you did the same plus took alli.

Sounds good, right? They're not saying it's a magic pill. People are too savvy for that these days. We all know that it takes dietary changes plus exercise to lose weight and we're all starting to get skeptical about the idea of things that say we can do what we want and still lose. So the smart people at GlaxoSmithKline are using their brains when they tell us we have to do the work, but that their product will just enhance the results. How appealing is that? I'm ready to do the work, but your product will give me even better results? I'm ready to run out to my nearest Rite Aid or CVS and stock uphttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif.

Hold, up! Better find out about the side effects. Now here's the catch...

alli works by blocking the body's absorption of fat - and that fat has to go somewhere, so, if you take alli and eat fatty foods you can expect:

* gas with oily spotting
* loose stools
* more frequent stools that may be hard to control

Nice, huh? Further, they describe the oil that may leak out of you, "as something that looks like the oil on top of a pizza," and suggest that when you first taking this medication that you stay close to home and wear dark pants.

Is this what weight loss has come to? Taking pills that make pizza oil leak out of our asses and wearing dark pants - not to camouflage the fat, but to hide the oil stains.

No thanks. I think I would rather be fat than have fat oozing out of my body at untimely moments.

Yet, I think I am clearly in the minority because, despite these oh so attractive side effects, alli seems to be selling quite well.

I find myself thinking, have we been so bombarded with all these messages about obesity and how hard it is to lose weight that we no longer believe we can do it on our own? Do people suffer from weight loss insecurities so badly that they feel they have to resort to this?

Or is marketing THAT strong a pull? I think to some extent it is. I started this post by saying that I find myself drawn to that display each and every time I see it. It just LOOKS like something I want to buy. So I can't help but wonder how many women are buying this stuff and taking it home to sit it on a shelf. Or worse, how many are buying it, unaware of the side effects? How horrible would it be to find out about that "oily spotting" while wearing all white on a dinner date?

Blech. The more I think about it, the less I understand these products. If I can't lose weight by eating right and exercising, then I will just have to learn how to love my fat.

Food Musings by Ros

2007-07-06T09:22:00.000-04:00

I hate food. I love food. I hate having used food as a drug and realizing that I'll never fully be free of using food as a drug. All those years I called myself healed from eating disorders, called myself one of the 30% who fully recover -- BUZZ, wrong. Still there lurking, just waiting til I was completely failing to cope with life stress any other way, and there came all the old shit. Control your body when you can't control anything else, make your distress visible by losing weight, control what goes in and out, don't feel too full . . .

BLECH!!! When my weight dropped so low back in March & April, I was clearly on the edge of being anorexic again, and managed to regain some weight. But somehow I've readjusted to considering my current weight "normal" and "average", when in reality I know I'm underweight still. But I FEEL fat, I feel my thighs rubbing together, even though I know I still don't weigh what I used to because of how my clothes fit. I've tried to go back to normal eating and manage it some days. But three regular normal meals a day with a few healthy snacks? Impossible, no fucking way. OK, and I have to put this in writing. If it's a secret, I get to keep doing it and pretending I'm not, but if I tell, then it's out there in reality and I have to deal with it. Over the past month, a few times I've overeaten, fun junk food stuffing my face -- and then I've felt so full afterwards that I've panicked and thrown up. In one sense it's not a return to bulimia because I haven't started eating with the intention of throwing up afterwards, but in another sense, making myself throw up is, of course, sick and wrong.
I went grocery shopping yesterday and hated it, hated food, hated having choices about food. Nothing looked safe to eat. OK, lettuce, veggies, fruit, bagels. Chicken. But really, what's safe? What can I eat that will make me feel full and will be healthy, but won't make me feel fat or want to throw up? Not that any of this is really about food; food and weight are just so convenient to obsess on, to use to avoid what's really bothering me. I envy those of us who don't abuse food . . . .

Late Nights

2007-07-06T03:21:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to keep up here. And I'm trying to eat right. But the late nights are killing me. I manage to hang in fairly well until about midnight. But then it all goes down hill.

I want to make a commitment to not working at night or at the very least to limit it to once or twice a week. I know that's going to be difficult because I have to get the work done sometimes. And 9 times out of 10 there's just more work than I can do during the day - even when I'm not trying to keep the girls occupied too.

But the late nights have me eating too much and being too tired to get the kind of exercise I need. I have to do something about it.

But clearly, that's not happening tonight...It's 3:30 and I just remembered that I have another bit of work to do before I go to bed. *sigh*

I'm going to do better next week.

City Girl Goes to the Country - Again...

2007-07-01T22:22:00.000-04:00

OK, so I promise that after this I will return to talk of weight, diet, exercise and all things related to fat. I've slacked off on the blog (only 7 entries in June, compared to 30 in May) and simultaneously slacked off on dealing with my weight or any issues related to it. It's time to get back on it and since today is Monday and the beginning of a new month I guess today is the day to do it...

after this little tale of my adventures in camping...

A while back my friend, Madame President and her husband, VP, (Bear Maiden refers to them as Married Couple or One Half and The Other Half - but I need another name for them) invited the Bull, the girls and I to go camping with them. Now, I am a city girl, born and raised and I have a life-long phobia about bugs - so camping isn't exactly my thing. I did it a bit when I was in college because I went to school in the middle of nowhere and there wasn't much of anything else to do. But back then it mostly involved alcohol, sex or both - neither of which were likely to be aspects of this camping trip.

Also, I should mention, that I made an attempt at dragging my city-bred ass to the country alone with the girls last summer and it was a bit of a disaster.

Which is why, if it had been up to me, I would have said, "Thanks, but no thanks." But the Bull and MamasGirl really wanted to go, so how could I say no? But then the week before we're scheduled to go, the Bull gets a letter telling him he's been selected to go to his union's convention in LA. This is a great opportunity for him, one he can't turn down. So on Thursday I carted him off to the airport and sent him on his merry way to lalaland. Then went home to prepare to camp on my own with the girls.

Now, it was only a 3 day/2 night trip. It was supposed to be 4 days and 3 nights but I was sick all week and I knew I needed that extra night at home in my own bed. So Friday morning the girls and I headed upstate to the Yogi Bear Campground in the Catskills.

Madame President, VP and another couple, Rugged Campers, and their son were all there already. VP and Rugged Camper Wife immediately pulled out my tent and started setting it up for me. Which made me feel really optimistic about the trip.

I have a HARD TIME letting people help me. It is one of my personality traits that I struggle with. I have an intense need to do it all myself and it takes a lot for me to accept help - forget about asking for it. So to have people just start helping me without me having to ask them, hell, without even asking me if I need the help, was comforting, refreshing and a little scary too.

Spice and MamasGirl were immediately thrilled. Our campsite was on the edge of a huge field with a giant playground on one side of it. They ran off to play with friends without a backward glance. Spice cracks me up, because when MamasGirl was that age, not-quite 2yo, she wouldn't take more than 10 steps away from me. And I couldn't stand to let her get far from me. But Spice runs off to play with the big kids like she's one of them without hesitation. And I've learned to let her have that independence even though it scares the crap out of me.

When night fell, the temperature dropped. I've actually spent enough time upstate to know that it gets cooler at night - but I hadn't expected it to get THAT cold. Actually, it was about 10 degrees cooler than THAT cold. It was FREEZING!

MamasGirl, Spice and I huddled up together completely under the covers. I am normally claustrophobic and can't stand to have covers over my head at all. But it was SO FREAKING COLD that I was willing to endure the sense of being closed in and suffocated just for a little extra warmth.

In the morning I woke up and looked at Spice. She was so still, and her face just looked funny to me. I panicked, thinking she had hypothermia. I rushed out to the car, turned it on, cranked up the heat and put the the girls in the car to get warm. Of course Spice was fine. I've always had a vivid imagination, filled with drama - and now that I have kids, that imagination creates all kinds of fretful ideas about them.

But the sun was shining and those crazy ideas evaporated with the morning dew. As the day went on, I thought, "Hey, camping is fun. The girls get to run and play with friends. I get to hang out with grown-up friends. A little cold air isn't such a bad price to pay." I contemplated going out and getting extra blankets. But decided that just wearing extra layers to sleep in should help us make it through the second night.

Night falls again and all is well. I got the girls dressed in their first layers and thought bedtime should be fine.

Then it starts to rain.

There's a mad dash to put everything away out of the rain. I basically throw everything either in the car or in the tent and by the time we get everything put away, the rain has stopped. After a few minutes the clouds start to move aside revealing an amazingly beautiful sky filled with stars and a shining moon that lights up the field. The moon is so beautiful that a couple from one of the campsites behind us comes up to the field to take pictures it. Despite the rain, it's a beautiful night - not nearly as cold as the night before. I think, "Yeah, it's going to be better tonight."

Oh was a I wrong.

First Spice doesn't want to cooperate at all. She won't put on the 2nd layer. Flat out refuses. Amusingly, in the next tent, Madame President is having her own issues with her son, Elmo (who Spice adores). Like Spice, he won't put on a sweatshirt - he won't settle down at all.

I'm am cracking up, though, because Madame President's reaction to Elmo is exactly how I react to my kids when they push my buttons. I always think I'm the only one who would say some of these things, so it comforts me to hear MP say similar stuff to her kids.

Finally, Spice falls asleep and eventually, MamasGirl is in the tent sleeping too. And then the rain starts again. At first I think it's just the leftover rain falling off the trees. Then I think, it will just drizzle. Then I think well, when it rains this hard, it's only for a short time - a passing shower. Then I start trying to remember if I've used all the possible stakes to hold the tent down - because I'm really not into flying off to Oz. I don't think I'll look so cute in those ruby slippers.

Through the howling wind and the torrential rain, I can hear MP and VP laughing in the next tent and another friend-couple laughing in the tent on the other side of them. And suddenly I miss the Bull more than I've ever missed him. Our relationship is always so on the edge that I generally welcome it when we spend a little time apart. But, right at this moment I miss him like I'd miss a body part if I lost it. I realize that having a partner doesn't just make the work easier, it makes the scary, crazy moments better. There's something about having someone to balance you. Someone to help you look at the crazy shit in the world and laugh at it rather than running or cowering from it. Having someone to break you out of your own head is priceless.

But at that moment I'm alone in a tent with my two kids and a crazy ass imagination. And just then the fireworks start. Yeah, in the rain I hear - pop, Pop, POP! pop, pop, pop, POP, pop, Pop, POP! Over and over. And I'm thinking - "Ok, who the hell sets off firecrackers in the rain. But then I think, "Hey, CAN you set off firecrackers in the rain." So, city girl that I am, I can't help but wonder if I'm hearing gunfire rather than firecrackers.

And there goes the imagination...

I start thinking about how amazingly diverse the campers are at this campsite, and I picture some people from the area, who aren't too happy about all this diversity, raiding the camp and wiping out all the campers of color. I am truly crazy. I become convinced that they'll come for me first since I'm the only one in my group without a man in my tent. And then I see a flashlight beam outside of my tent - and I cower down under the covers and...

fall asleep...

I wake up a while later. It's still dark and raining, but no gunfireworks. But something is wrong...drip... a drop of water hits my head,

Great! The tent is leaking. Fortunately it's not much, just the occasional drip. I think I should move but before I can I...

fall asleep...

Wake up again and Spice is out from under the covers, has flipped over with her head down and her feet near my head. The comforter is covering her face. I move the comforter and start to turn her over and...

fall asleep...

MamasGirl wakes me up to tell me she can't breathe through her nose. I tell her to breathe through her mouth and...

fall asleep...

What the hell is it about this place? I'm uncomfortable. The air mattress has lost a lot of air so my butt is resting on cold, wet ground while my head is floating high in the air and a cramp is trying to sneak it's way into my leg. But neither my own discomfort or my concern for my children can manage to keep me awake. No sooner do I start to think I should do something than I pass out.

I wake again and it's light out. I can hear my fellow campers moving about. I'm happy to be alive - thank goodness no strange mountain people came to drag me off into the night. I think it must be gray and awful out and I look forward to making a great escape immediately. I open the tent and see blue sky! My fellow campers all tell me that they saw headlights in the night and were sure I'd escaped back to the city. I have to laugh, because surely I thought of it more than once - I just couldn't stay awake long enough to actually do it.

It actually took me most of the morning to pack up and head out of dodge, and by then MamasGirl and Spice were both as ready to go as I was. The three of us - ok, well, MamasGirl and I, are both exceedingly proud of ourselves - we survived the great outdoors - bugs, rain, cold and all. MamasGirl thinks we should celebrate by going out to dinner in a restaurant.

Me, I already celebrated by sleeping in a dry, clean, solid bed.

Uber Boober - Part 2

2007-06-19T12:56:00.000-04:00

At some point I'm going to have to start a separate blog for things unrelated to weight. But for now, I will continue to occasionally throw in posts that have little or nothing to do with my weight issues and struggles.

* I just tried to shorten this, but it's still outrageously long. I'm going to have to put a word limit on myself*

I've become hooked on reading several different blogs lately. One of my favorites is Black Breastfeeding. The owner of that blog, Jennifer, posts some really interesting information - including a lot of historical information about black women and breastfeeding. I've spent a lot of time thinking about why black women don't breastfeed, yet it never occurred to me to look at it from a historical perspective - so I find Jennifer's point of view really refreshing.

The last week or so, however, there has been some debate on her blog, because she was taking a stand on nursing in public that many readers, myself included, disagreed with. It all started with a picture of Maggie Gyllenhaal nursing her baby while talking to a male friend.

As I debated the merits of nursing in public, and the merits of not going to great pains to stay covered, I realized some things about myself. And ultimately the discussion brought me to a place where I found myself doing things differently than I would have otherwise. I'm always impressed and fascinated by the power of words. That the very act of putting thoughts into words and sending those words out into the world, can change things. Change the behavior, attitudes or thoughts of others, or even of the person who had the thought and put it into words in the first place.

When MamasGirl was a baby I felt, very much, that I should be as discreet as possible while nursing so that those around me would feel comfortable with it. I am not a particularly modest person - years of being in the theater when I was younger cured me of that. But I went to great pains to either nurse discreetly or go into another room, or even pump and take bottles with m - anything to not have to make others uncomfortable. Or at least I was being so discreet out of a sense of courtesy and consideration.

When MamasGirl was 18 months I stopped nursing out of the house entirely. I told her that "milky" was only for home. I could no longer handle the comments of family and friends who felt I was nursing her too long. I knew if they couldn't see me nursing her, they would assume I had stopped. But MamasGirl had no intention of stopping. Not for a very long time.

By the time Spice was born, I'd had the opportunity to meet, make friends with and spend time with other moms who nursed their children openly - some beyond the year recommended by the AAP. Just being around nursing mothers gave me a level of comfort with nursing that I never had while nursing MamasGirl. I began to realize that just being around other nursing mothers, just seeing babies nurse as part of every day life made nursing seem more ordinary, normal, comfortable. That one of the biggest obstacles to breastfeeding in our society is that it's so alien, so completely of the ordinary.

So, when Spice was born, I made the decision that I would be open about nursing. That I would nurse in public. Because I realized that simply nursing my child openly could be the most effective thing I could do as an advocate of breastfeeding.

And, it made me SO happy to see other moms nursing. My favorite was when Spice was about 15 months old, the Bull the girls and I went to this refugee camp set up by Doctors Without Borders to show people what it's like to live in a refugee camp. Spice wanted to nurse and there wasn't really anyplace for me to sit and nurse her, so I put her in the Ergo to nurse while we continued on the tour. I was self-conscious - worried that someone would be bothered by seeing me nurse, though, really the way I was doing it was pretty discreet - it looked like Spice was sleeping.

Then I looked up and saw this woman carrying a large toddler somewhere between 2 and 3 years old in a cradle hold as she walked through the refugee camp. The woman had a button down shirt on and the shirt was completely unbuttoned. One side of the shirt was draped down covering that side of her body, but the other side was pushed completely back so that the other side of her body was bare, and the toddler was nursing. I thought that was the coolest thing - and suddenly, my nervousness at nursing my baby with both clothing and a carrier covering us seemed silly.

I became completely at ease. And I thought about the fact that in parts of the world where people live in refugee camps like the one we were walking through that nursing is probably not covered up and hidden, but done openly. That in those places nursing keeps babies alive and that people have bigger things to worry about than whether or not they could see a mother's breast as she nursed her child.

And, once again, I realized how much just nursing openly can encourage other women to nurse. We NEED to SEE women nursing. Every time a woman who is thinking about nursing, or who is breastfeeding but feels awkward about nursing in public sees someone else do it, it can give her the confidence to do it too. It makes it normal, ordinary.

Well, I know all this, but I had to face, recently, that I still have my own hesitations about nursing in public and that there's something else behind them. I never would have realized these things if I hadn't been responding to Jennifer's posts - hence, my contention about the power of words and their ability to make people change their actions.

Sunday evening I found myself out in the park. There's this great Shakespeare company that performs plays in the park, using the park itself as the setting. MamasGirl loves their productions so we went to watch. Spice is not a good audience member. So eventually we decided that the Bull would stay with MG and follow the play (they move around in the park, doing scenes in various locations and the audience follows) while I took Spice in the other direction.

Spice was over-tired and after a few minutes of running around we sat on a bench and she wanted to nurse. I hesitated. I wanted to say no. I didn't want to nurse a toddler sitting on a bench in Central Park. But, then I thought about all I'd written. Why did I think it was OK for Maggie Gyllenhaal to nurse openly, but not me? I knew I had a right to nurse - as I mentioned before, I've done it. But, always with some apprehension, some hesitation. I'd always thought it was because I didn't want to make others uncomfortable, but after spending posting in defense of nursing in public, I had to finally realize that this was, at least partiall, just an excuse. So what is the real reason?

Well, I think there's more than one. First, nursing puts you in a vulnerable position. Balancing a baby on my lap, breast out of a bra - even if covered by a shirt - makes me vulnerable in so many ways. Obviously it makes me physically vulnerable, but I think the key thing is that it makes me emotionally vulnerable. Vulnerable to the disapproval of others.

Sitting there in the park I had to realize that what I was really afraid of wasn't that someone would run up and steal my purse, or even that someone would quietly cringe and feel uncomfortable. What I feared was someone thinking, and perhaps even saying to me, "What are you doing nursing that CHILD. She's too old to nurse and even if she wasn't, do you have to do it out here!" That ultimately fear of disapproval was influencing my actions.

Basically, I could talk a good game. I could write on a blog, under and anonymous name, about how women should be free to breastfeed where ever they wanted, and in what ever stage of modesty or exposure they felt comfortable with. But, when it came down to it, I realized that I was frequently too chicken to do what I wanted others to do. What I benefited from others doing, I was, all too often, tempted to shy away from.

It's hard to put ones self out there like that. So often people will say about something or another, if a person keeps something hidden that they must know it's wrong - "If you're right," they say, "then you have nothing to hide." I've always thought that was ridiculous. There are so many reasons to hide things, beyond the simplicity of right or wrong. And this is particularly true when it comes to nursing.

True modesty makes people hide, and I think that will only change way down the line when enough women expose their breasts while nursing that breasts lose their mystery and accompanying allure. I don't think this is inconceivable. Once women wore long dresses that were extremely low-cut. They wouldn't dare show their ankles, but cleavage was no big deal. I think what we cover tends to become more enticing than what we show. So if we start showing breasts, being utilized for nursing, they will become ordinary and nothing and even the modest person will think no more about exposing a breast than exposing and ankle.

Fear of judgment makes people hide all the time. Even when someone believes they're right, they will hide their thoughts and actions because they fear the judgment of someone who thinks it's wrong. I'm ashamed to say this is me. I knew I was this way when I chose to hide nursing MamasGirl once she became a toddler, but I thought I was past that. Now that I've realized I've been acting out of that fear, I am determined to behave differently.

So when Spice climbed on my lap on that park bench, even though I wanted to make her wait until we could walk home and nurse in private, I didn't. I sat there and nursed her. A couple of older women walked past with their dogs. A family with a teenaged daughter sat at the far end of the bench. A few other random people passed, but I didn't much notice them. By then I was busy gazing at my toddler. She's such a rambunctious bundle of energy and attitude that it's rare that I just get a quiet moment with her. And after a minute or two she was done and charging off up the path.

To think I almost missed that fleeting, peaceful moment with her because I was afraid of what someone else would think.

Not the Biggest Loser

2007-06-16T12:10:00.000-04:00

That show, the Biggest Loser has been a thorn in my side for the last couple of years. At one point before I was pregnant with Spice, I actually considered applying to go on it - then I got pregnant and put it out of my head for a while.

Then, last year, when Spice was about 6mo, during the January rush of weight-loss propaganda that clogs the airways for the beginning of the year - there was this Biggest Loser marathon on. And MamasGirl, not having any idea of my fragile emotional state in regard to weight, tells me - "You should go on that show, Mommy."

Yeah, kid, I know.

At around that time, I also got into a huge discussion on a message board about weight issues - and I became really frustrated that people who don't have issues with food or weight, really don't understand. I also became frustrated with our culture's obsession with weight. I mean some of the commercials that were on the air during the January, high weight-loss season had women extolling the virtues of a plan that took them from a size 6 to a size 0. So now it's not good enough to not be fat, now, we need to go from thin to emaciated! Plus, I think there's something truly disturbing about being a size 0 - I mean ZERO - NOTHING. I want to be something - to aspire to nothing is just not right. So I was also finding myself increasingly frustrated by the fact that all women in our society, no matter how thin, seem to feel like they need to lose at least a little weight. It's very rare that I meet a woman who doesn't think she needs to reduce the size of her rear end - even when that rear end is virtually non-existent. And, sadly, I even see mothers panicking as their daughters reach that time - usually sometime between 7 and 10 years old - when they put on weight as a precursor to developing curves. So, the madness spills over onto our children.

Thinking about all of this one day in January 2006, after watching a Biggest Loser marathon, is what prompted me to start this blog.

Now, I can't say that I've watched every episode of every season of the Biggest Loser, but it has definitely been a bit of a fascination for me. As with most reality shows, I tend to get into it near the end. And really - with most reality shows, if there are 15 episodes, you really only need to watch the last 5. Usually in those last episodes, they recap the whole season a few times, so you get to know a little about the people who were eliminated and you get familiar with the people who are still there, enough to pick someone to cheer for.

And, with the Biggest Loser, I always found someone to identify with, someone to cheer on. Well, really, I could identify with all of them - could put myself in each of their shoes as they stepped on the scale or faced temptation, or pushed themselves a little harder with exercise. I've been each of them, time and time again, as I've lost and regained weight over the years. But I was jealous of them as they had this wonderful experience of having a dedicated time to just focus on losing weight and getting in shape. They got to learn good eating habits and exercise tips from experts there to help them make sure they not only lost the weight but would be able to keep it off.

At least that's what I thought...

Then I read this article in Time that says that the winners of the Biggest Loser are finding their way back to fat. That, in fact, a portion of their weight was not lost healthily, but by starving and over-exercising almost to the point of dehydration - that many pounds were water weight pounds that was immediately regained.

For some reason the article refers to all these weights in in kg (which mean nothing to me) so I used a converter I found online to turn the numbers to pounds.

The first winner of this show, Ryan, lost 121 pounds. But he says that he regained almost 32 of those lbs within FIVE DAYS. Ryan, while on the show, went from about 337 pounds down to 206. Which sounds fabulous...except that now, 2 years later, he weighs around 299 pounds. He gained back all but 37 pounds. And apparently he's not the only one. A number of the Biggest Loser contestants have gained back weight.

In fact, this article points out something that I've heard and read in many places, and have certainly experienced myself - that most people who have real weight problems manage to keep the weight off when they lose it. And that the ones who are the best at keeping it off are the ones who place an emphasis on exercise.

Still, by keeping 14 kg off for more than a year, he's something of a rarity. The U.S. National Weight Control Registry, which tracks the habits of some 5,000 successful maintainers, cites a study showing only a fifth of dieters with a history of obesity sustain a loss of 10% of their body weight for a year or more. "The best predictor of the ones who are not going to regain are the ones who are doing the most physical activity," says Dr. Holly Wyatt, an obesity expert at the University of Colorado. She says most registrants exercise, on average, at least an hour a day.

That is definitely my experience. I've been struggling with my weight since I was about 11 years old. And for the first 20 years of the struggle I focused on diet. I tried every kind of diet going, and when those didn't work fast enough for me, or didn't take off enough weight, I just flat out starved myself.

For about a year in high school I lived almost completely on Tab, coffee, Dexatrim and cigarettes. Occasionally throwing an apple or cup of yogurt or a handful of french fries into the mix. Needless to say, I always gained back whatever I lost, and each time, I gained back a little more than I lost - so all that dieting gradually made me fatter and fatter.

The serious dieting started when I was around 14 - and back then I weighed around 130-135 and was desperate to get down to 120. I now weigh about 215lbs and I can't help but wonder what I would weigh now if I'd accepted myself at that weight in the 130s and never dieted.

Unfortunately, I'll never know. But what I do know is that the one truly successful weight loss I had - the one that lasted the longest and felt the best - did not involve dieting at all. At least not dieting as I think of it - though my eating habits did change some. But the reality is I committed myself to exercising everyday - making it as much a part of my daily life as brushing my teeth or taking a shower - and by doing so, I lost all the weight I wanted - 75lbs - and was in the best shape of my life. AND I kept it off for more than 2 years.

So, I guess reading this article about the Biggest Losers don't stay lost has me feeling a little but like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz - realizing that I don't have to go off to some far off land filled with dieting and exercise wizards because I have everything I need to lose weight and keep it off right here inside me.

No one else is going to be able to show me how to incorporate exercise into my everyday life. I'm going to have to do that for myself. And the more I do that - the closer I'll be to finding the the body I want.

Maybe I should borrow Spice's sparkly, red shoes, I could click them together and chant - "There's nothing like exercise."

Cooking with Gas

2007-06-12T21:32:00.000-04:00

OK, so this is not about cooking, it's just about gas - and not expensive kind that goes in cars, either. If I'm going to talk about the good, the bad and the ugly of eating habits and weight, I have to deal with the smelly too.

In recent years I have had some real problems with gas. Pretty much anything and everything has seemed to trigger it for me. Foods that are considered gassy, and those that aren't, too. I'd pretty much given up on trying to avoid anything that I thought made me gassy because everything did.

But, recently, when I started walking more and eating better the gas seems to have dissipated. No more running and hiding. No more looking for a small child or smelly dog to stand next to.

At first I thought I was just having a lucky couple of days, but then the Bull noticed and I realized that it really had gotten better.

Then I had a day or two when I drank soda and had some sweets and "phew" I was cooking with gas again. But a couple of days of drinking water and eating salad and "poof" gone again.

Unfortunately, yesterday I was stuck in a boring meeting ALL DAY and the chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies started talking to me - telling them they would keep me awake and make the meeting more interesting. And today I was stuck inside working with nothing quick and easy to grab to eat except Entenmann's marble pound cake. Hello gas.

So, it clearly seems that the ultimate culprit is sugar. But it also seems that I actually have to over-indulge to get bad results. This is good. While we know that I have an extreme aversion to giving things up - I can and have been willing to eliminate foods that cause me pain or discomfort - and gas definitely gives me physical, nasal, and social discomfort. And I don't have to eliminate sugar. I just have to cut back. I can live with that...I think.

On another note, I've been working may way through this Time Magazine Article and I hope to finish it and have comments to make about it tomorrow.

Quizzes

2007-06-09T08:05:00.000-04:00

I feel like taking a few. Mights as well put them all together.

Well, I had to add this one since I think it's the most accurate description I've gotten from one of these quizzes:

You Are a Mermaid

You are a total daydreamer, and people tend to think you're flakier than you actually are.
While your head is often in the clouds, you'll always come back to earth to help someone in need.
Beyond being a caring person, you are also very intelligent and rational.
You understand the connections of the universe better than almost anyone else.

What Mythological Creature Are You?

I was hoping for 100% on this one - but I guess caring what people think of me loses points.

You Are 85% Creative

You are an incredibly creative person. For you, there are no bounds or limits to your creativity.
Your next creation could be something very great... Or at least very cool!

How Creative Are You?

I thought I would come up as Grover or Oscar. But I guess this works:

You Are Big Bird

Talented, smart, and friendly... you're also one of the sanest people around.

You are usually feeling: Happy. From riding a unicycle to writing poetry, you have plenty of hobbies to keep you busy.

You are famous for: Being a friend to everyone. Even the grumpiest person gets along with you.

How you life your life: Joyfully. "Super. Duper. Flooper."

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Just as I suspected:

You Are 47% Feminine, 53% Masculine

You are in touch with both your feminine and masculine sides.
You're sensitive at the right times, but you don't let your emotions overwhelm you.
You're not a eunuch, just the best of both genders.

Are You Masculine or Feminine?

Changes

2007-06-07T20:21:00.000-04:00

I've felt something shifting, changing in me. I've been here before. I've waited to come around to this again, and had begun to think it wasn't going to happen. Now, suddenly, I've stepped into that place where change feels good. Where, no matter how scared I am, I can push myself past it - sometimes in a moment of complete, rash, impulsiveness - and make a change.

It feels SOOOOOO GOOOOD!!!!

The funny thing is, the last time I went through this it was kicked off by a major life change - I made the decision to end my marriage and did it. It was this change that prompted me to make other changes. Well, I haven't done anything so drastic this time (though boy have I been tempted to at times). In fact, in some ways my relationship with the Bull is stronger than it's ever been before. (Of course I say this today, but yesterday I had one of my - "What the HELL am I doing putting up with this man's crap?" moments) But even when it's bad, there's something good there - good enough that I know I'm not going anywhere - at least not anytime soon. And yet - I am feeling a freedom, a change in me, an ability to do things differently, that I've never felt while in a relationship. So maybe that's a change too.

Well, I guess it's time to reveal my most recent physical change.

So I debated on how to show this. I haven't, so far, been comfortable with showing my face on this blog (I don't know why, since I'm assuming that it's primarily read by people I know). But, how do you show off a hair cut without showing face? But as I was looking through the pictures, some taken by me in the mirror, some taken by the Bull, I realized that I actually liked this, blurry picture the best. It really shows of the cut well.

So, after 10 years of having hair down to my shoulders or past them, I have short hair again. The Bull is accepting, but not thrilled. MamasGirl is devastated. She was with me when I had it done and when the hair dresser paused to check on another customer, MamasGirl started trying to gather up the hair that had fallen on my shoulders and chest and save it. The hairdresser had cut it off in two ponytails, so I promised MamasGirl that she could keep one of them if she would leave the little, short cuttings behind. She kept looking at me for the rest of the afternoon, and made no qualms about saying that this was not right. I promised her I would grow it back eventually. Spice barely noticed. In fact I'm not sure she noticed.

The cut isn't perfect. It needs to be tweaked. It's a little too long on the top and not long enough in back. But overall I'm happy. I'm a little traumatized. The last 10 years are the longest time I'd gone with long hair since I was a kid, so I'm out of the habit, comfort level with short hair. But I love the, nothing like it, sensual feeling of air on the back of my neck.

Now I can't wait to get my nose pierced. I'm aiming for Tuesday because the next 4 days are filled up with too much for me to realistically think I could break away and go get it done. Though I had a moment tonight when I seriously considered driving past the place I got my belly ring 12 years ago (it closed up when I was pregnant with MamasGirl), but I just couldn't see carting the girls into a piercing place to watch Mama get a whole poked in her nose.

Most of all, I'm happy to have a no fuss hairstyle so I can workout, swim, bike, whatever, all summer without worrying about what to do with my hair during and after. I'm sure it will contribute to me being more active than I've been in many years.

Sleep

2007-06-06T17:34:00.001-04:00

I am just now coming to understand how important sleep is.

I ran on virtually no sleep for so long that it came to feel normal. Existing on 2-4 hours sleep a night was just standard. So standard that I didn't know that I felt tired.

And then I started to sleep. Work slowed down for 2 weeks and all I had to do was take care of the girls, play catch-up around the house for all the things I didn't get done when I was busy, start taking care of all the things I'd gotten myself involved in at MamaGirl's school and our community garden - things I could mostly handle and still get a good night's sleep. I started sleeping 6-8 hours a night - more than twice what I was getting before. And I started seeing changes.

My mood changed. I could handle the crap without feeling like it was dragging me into a bottomless pit of despair. My appetite changed - I wasn't hungry ALL THE TIME anymore. My energy level changed. Walking 3 blocks to the store didn't seem like too far to walk. Walking 3/4s of a mile to MamaGirls school didn't seem like too much either. Nor did walking the mile to the Children's Museum or the 2 miles home from the Y. In fact these walks became fun, invigorating, enjoyable. I started walking all over the place and enjoying it. I barely drove the car at all.

Sleep, wonderful sleep, had me feeling good. And then Bossman called.

And the work started pouring in again. Not as heavy as before, but not light either. And now I'm not sleeping as much. But I got out of the habit and my body is all confused. I pass out trying to stay awake and work. So I eat and eat and eat, because as long as I'm chewing I can't fall asleep.

And just as I was starting to crave healthy foods - this lack of sleep has reversed that and I'm craving junk again. I keep trying to get that energy boost from chocolate or soda. My body wants a sugar rush to keep me awake. But it all just ends up making me feel crappy and sluggish.

And I don't want to walk. I'm too tired, feel like I'm moving to slow, like there's no way I can get where I'm going on time if I walk. I've started breaking down and taking cabs or the subway and even driving more than I was before.

I have to start sleeping. But I can't figure out how to get sleep and work. I don't have anyone to watch Spice. I can't afford to pay anyone, the Bull is annoying and erratic about it and SaintAunt and the Grandparents are an hour drive away. Which leaves me having to work at night after the girls are asleep. Which means I don't sleep. Which means I am fat, tired, crazy and depressed.

Legacies

2007-06-02T22:28:00.000-04:00

I saw this girl today. You could tell she was one of those teenage/young women who always has to look "just so." Her perfectly pulled-back ponytail bounced when she walked. It was held in place by a ponytail holder that matched her belt which matched her purse, which matched sneakers. She was tall and thin and athletic and something about both her build and the way she carried herself reminded me of MamasGirl.

I can see MamasGirl getting to her teen years and being very particular about her appearance - always wanting to look, "just so." And I made a mental note to myself to make sure to continue to reinforce to MamasGirl (and eventually Spice) that what you do is more important than how you look. That's it's all well and good to care about your appearance, but no to put it above all else.

But, then I started to wonder - how much will what I say about it influence her. I mean I know that I am now, and will continue for a while, to be one of her biggest influences. But there will come a time when natural inclinations, peer opinions and media impressions will overshadow good old mom's little lectures. And certainly, these things are having their impact already. But there's something else that plays into this, I think. The past plays it's part. Not just MamaGirl's past, not just my past, but my mother's past, and maybe her mother's past as well, I don't know.

I mean, I know that my lack of attention to appearance is, in a very large part, the result of my mother's hyper-attention to it. So I have to recognize the possibility that my lack of attention is creating in MamasGirl a more intense interest in it.

I don't know, honestly, if my grandmother, my mother's mother, was particular about her appearance or not. But then, I'm not sure that it was her mother who had the greater impact on her - I think it was her father.

I do know that when my mother, Narcissa, was born she was a healthy, rather large baby and her sister, who came right behind her, was a small, petite baby. So, for reasons I will never understand, my mother's parents (again, primarily her father - from what I hear her mother really wasn't interested in the children at all) decided they would treat their younger daughter like a dainty little princess and the older one like a tomboy. Narcissa was dressed in blue and nicknamed, "Butchy Boy." Apparently, throughout her childhood she was treated like the ugly duckling, clearly told that she didn't have much in the looks department. This created a fierce desire in her to be beautiful. She became a teenager, her baby fat turned to curves, her facial features matured slightly and took on new shape as well - in essences, she blossomed. As she has said herself, she transformed from ugly duckling, to beautiful swan. And she became obsessed, truly, truly, obsessed with her own beauty. And she not only became enamored of her looks herself, it became necessary for others to worship her beauty. She need hordes of people to bow down and proclaim their delight at her appearance. This is what led her to become a Playboy Bunny.

Now, I just have to clarify, for anyone who may be confused, that there's a difference between a Bunny and a Playmate. Bunnies were the women who wore the little bunny suits - bustier, high heels, bunny tail and ears - and basically waitressed in the Playboy Clubs. Playmates are the ones who posed nude in the magazine. My mother was a Bunny from the time I was about 2 years old until I was about 12 years old. I can't tell you how many times people, when finding out she was a Bunny, have asked me what issues of the magazine she posed in.

I won't go into the whole Bunny thing here, what it was like growing up a child of a Bunny during the height of the women's movement - that's a tale (no pun intended) for another post. The point here is that Narcissa was determined to be a Bunny because she was determined to counteract a childhood of being told she was ugly, by having a young adulthood of being worshiped for her beauty.

For Narcissa, appearances were the be all and end all. She cared nothing for her own comfort or even the care of her child - these things were secondary to looking good. She wore heels that made her feet hurt, even bleed at times. She wore earrings that slowly tore her earlobes - one all the way through, so that she had to have it sewn back up again. At the height of their fashion, she wore micro-mini skirts and hot pants even in the dead of winter. She starved herself and took laxatives to stay thin. She did colonics (not for the supposed health benefits, but to keep her stomach looking a little flatter, and had some kind of treatments that put electric shocks into her breasts to help keep them looking perkier. Her own hair was thin and soft and hard to manage, so she had boxes and boxes and boxes filled with wigs of every style, length and texture imaginable - constantly dealing with the heat and itchiness of wearing them. Or she would sit up all night long having extensions braided into her hair. Anything for her appearance.

As I grew, she would encourage me to follow her in caring for my appearance - but not too much. After all, she was determined to outshine EVERYONE - including her daughter. It was clear, that I was not ever, ever, ever to be as pretty as her - not even close. There were times when my clothes were literally in shreds and she would tell me to ask my father for money for new ones because she couldn't afford to by me any, and yet her closet bulged, so full with clothes that if something fell off a hanger it would never hit the floor because the clothing was packed in so tight.

I spent many years trying to be a lesser imitation of Narcissa. But when I went away to college, and she moved across the country, it freed me to start becoming my own person - someone with very different tastes and priorities from Narcissa. And slowly, gradually, I found myself less and less concerned with appearance. For years I wouldn't leave the house, not even to go to the laundry room, without make-up on and my hair done - eventually I stopped wearing make-up altogether, except for special occasions. Now, people don't even recognize me when they see pictures of me wearing make-up.

I know I have gone to a further extreme than would probably have been my natural inclination as a way of counterbalancing years of being under the influence of Narcissa and her hyper-intense focus on the superficial.

And so, I wonder, am I passing this legacy on to my daughter? Does my extreme disregard for appearances make her even more focused on them? Will she become narcissistic as a counterbalance to me being slovenly? Is her divaness the reaction to my schleppiness?

I don't know. But I do know that I'm trying to find a balance now. I'm easing myself into caring more about appearance. But it's uncomfortable. I don't like looking closely at myself in the mirror. It feels like I escaped Narcissa's world, where appearance is everything, by the skin of my teeth. And everytime I put on some mascara, or consider wearing a heel, I step back into that world a little. It's hard for me to imagine it's a place that can be visited and left - and more like a place that sucks you in and steals your soul.

So I think, and this may be one of those break-thru, "aha" moments, that perhaps, my weight has been the way from me to keep myself away from, safe from my mothers world of appearance. Fat was always the biggest enemy - that and lack of sun. In my mother's book, the worst thing you could be was fat and pale - staying thin at all costs and baking in the sun to get some color.

Wow, and it just occurred to me that her sister - the pretty one - was not only smaller than her, but darker than her too.

And so here I've been getting fatter and paler every year. I never thought about why I had such an aversion to the sun. I just assumed that, 1. I was heeding the advice of medical professionals and 2. because I'm fat, I get overheated more easily and have been staying out of the sun to keep cool. But now, I'm pretty certain that it's been part of my insulation from the world around me - and especially from falling back into the trappings of my mother.

Big Fat Uber Boober

2007-05-30T21:05:00.000-04:00

So, I just can't resist.

Memorial day was a blast in so many ways. The Bull, Spice, MamasGirl and I piled in the car with Lilacblue and Ladybug and headed up to the rock to hang with Bear Maiden, the Moon and family. It was a perfect day; sunny, warm and beautiful. We relaxed on Bear Maiden's deck and enjoyed each other's company. A perfect, relaxing holiday. And wonderful friends that they are - Bear Maiden, Lilacblue and the Professor simulated a cake with berries, powdered sugar and a hamburger bun and sang happy birthday to me. They gave me a birthday I will always remember and left me feeling loved and cared for (to the contrary of what my melancholy birthday ramblings say). But what truly, truly made my day was having the opportunity to have my own little lactivist nurse-in.

As so often happens when there's more than one mother in the room, talk turned to childbirth and baby care. The Bear Maiden's friend, Shoefly, proudly proclaimed that she had never breastfed. The Bear Maiden warned her that she was bragging to the wrong crowd, since all the rest of us had breastfed out children. I don't think, even then, that Shoefly had any idea just how wrong the crowd really was for her comments, but she was about to find out.

Almost on cue, Spice climbed up in my lap and demanded, "MILK!" Now, I knew what kind of mood Spice was in, and I knew I could have distracted her. But some bad little voice inside me urged me to have my own little nurse-in right there. So I started nursing Spice, choosing to nurse her on my right side, closer to Shoefly, who was sitting right next to me. Of course Spice refused to let me be discreet and flipped my shirt up - giving a complete, unblocked view.

Now I know, I know, it goes against everything I've been taught about etiquette to terrorize other guests at the gathering of a friend. But it was just too tempting.

I am probably one of the least judgmental people I know. I'm basically a live and let live kind of gal. But I don't understand people who don't breastfeed. I really don't. I mean, sure, I understand that, like with anything, there are always going to be exceptions. People who've had various kinds of trauma, people who have been abused or misused - I understand these people not nursing. Obviously there are those who are on various much needed medications that don't work with nursing. And I can even sort of understand when very young mothers, teen mothers in particular, don't nurse. They are just learning about their bodies and don't know the true wonder and majesty of them.

But a full grown, mature woman who doesn't need medication and hasn't been traumatized, except in the way all women in our society are, these are the people I don't understand. I don't understand them in the same way I don't understand women who have elective c-sections. I mean, who the hell would CHOOSE to have themselves cut open when it was completely unnecessary? In both cases I believe the women who make these choices are denying the true beauty and power of their bodies. To bring a child into this world and to nourish that child! How amazing! How astounding! How miraculous and powerful! Why would anyone want to relinquish this? Give it away, reject it, toss it aside as though it were garbage.

I mean, most of the rules and constructs of society stem from man's need to get close to or compensate for women's power. We can grow and bring forth life and sustain it! Do you know what men would do if they had that kind of power? As it is, they have spent centuries trying to brainwash us into believing that our power is actually a pain - something to be avoided if possible. And it kills me that some women have fallen for this. That so many are willing to escape the wonder of childbirth and nursing in anyway they can - will proudly declare, "I didn't breastfeed!" Or will treat women who do breastfeed as though they are doing something dirty. Admonishing them to hide under blankets or lock themselves away in a separate room. It kills me, everytime I hear about a woman who was harrassed for breastfeeding in public, because 9 times out of 10 it was not a man, but another woman who did the harrassing.

Women were once worshipped for the ability to bring another life from their bodies and create food to nourish that life. Cultures all over the world, for thousands of years have created artwork featuring fertile women with large, milk-filled breasts. We are the source of human kind for crying out loud! Can you imagine what the world would be if we had continued to revel in our power rather than relinquish and deny it?

So, yeah, on some level all this goes through my mind when I hear someone, particularly a woman, deny breastfeeding. When I hear the word spoken with an undertone of disdain and disgust - I want to act out. To show off the beauty and the power of this simple and perfect act. So I staged my little nurse-in. And I know she didn't see Spice's love of the milk as either beautiful or powerful. But at least she had to see it. I refuse to hide away. I think every time someone who is uncomfortable with breastfeeding is made to see it, it becomes more familiar and less alien. I may not change anyone's mind, but I might get them to keep it to themselves.

Tattoo

2007-05-30T18:34:00.000-04:00

I've wanted another tattoo for a long time now. Pretty much since I got my first one almost 12 years ago. Back then I had promised myself that once I did something professionally as a writer - something outside of an office - I could get my tattoo. Well, I achieved that 6 years ago when I wrote a short film that was produced (by the Bull) and which appeared in film festivals, on television and on the internet. But I never got that tattoo because I could never decide what it should be.

Well, recently, the thought of a new tattoo entered my head. But, at first I dismissed it, thinking I wouldn't be able to come up with something. I decided I should get my nose pierced instead. But just as I was rolling that around in my head, my friend, the bear maiden, started talking about getting a new tattoo. And that just made the idea of really stick with me. So I started looking around for pictures and symbols that could represent my girls. And before I knew it, I had sketched out something I really like. So here it is:

The flowers represent Spice - they are a specific kind of seed pod that carries her name, and the swirls are waves that represent MamasGirl, whose name means "little wave."

Who knows when I will go get this done, though. I'll have to look into the cost - I want it as an ankle bracelet. I still think I may get my nose pierced first.

I may save the tattoo as a reward for getting through the Challenge.

Walk, walk, walk

2007-05-30T10:19:00.000-04:00

I walked almost 6 miles yesterday. In some ways it felt like a lot. In others like hardly anything. I wish I could walk like that everyday. I walked home from Spice's swim lesson - a little over 2 miles. I walked to pick MamasGirl up from school and back - a little over a mile and a half. And I walked to dinner and back a little under 2 miles.

There was a time, not long ago, when I wouldn't have walked to do any of this. I would have driven or taken a cab or (less likely) the bus or train. Anything but walk. And now I walk everywhere I possibly can. It's helping to center me a little - clear my head. I'm growing to enjoy it. And it helps me feel stronger, more confident.

I have to admit that part of the reason I used to drive everywhere I could is that I've always had this anxiety about people. I hated walking past people even one or two at a time, but walking past a group of people would make my spine tingle in an unpleasant way. For a short time, right after my first miscarriage, this anxiety, phobia, whatever you want to call it, was so intense that I could barely get myself to leave the house at all. Just the thought of having to walk outside and pass people on the street would have me breathing unevenly.

This thing has kept me from doing many things I really wanted to do. For instance, I love the HBO show Def Poetry. I don't watch it often, but when I do, I always enjoy it. It inspires me, makes me want to write in general, and write poems in particular. So, the Bull has connections with the people who create it and at one point he made it possible for us to go to a taping. I looked forward to it for weeks. Then, at the last minute, I started to panic about the idea of being in this room full of people and I couldn't do it. I tried to push myself past it, but I couldn't. I felt so out of place, self-conscious, inadequate that chest was too tight to let air in. So we didn't go.

So, it's a big accomplishment for me these days to walk outside, day after day after day, sometimes for miles and miles. Past people rushing, people walking slow, people hanging out on street corners, beautiful people and ugly people, interesting people, and plain old crazy people. And, for the most part, they don't make the air stick in my throat. Though I admit I do have to take several deep breaths when I see a group of 5 or more people gathered togethered up ahead - just in case I can't breathe as I pass them.

And I'll also admit I still would not be able to go see Def Poetry yet. But, everyday I walk in the sunshine, I think brings me closer to not letting this thing get in my way.

What the...

2007-05-30T01:16:00.000-04:00

Why? Why do I eat things I do not want? For my birthday the Bull took MamasGirl (MG), Spice and I to dinner. I wanted a salad, I ordered lemon, thyme chicken with mashed potatoes and spinach.

As an aside, I have to say that I LOVE my kids and their love for vegetables. As soon as our food came, Spice reached over and started grabbing the spinach off of my plate and putting it on hers. I gave MG some spinach too, which she polished off before she touched her food and then, by the end of the meal, the two girls were fighting over the little bit of spinach left on Spice's plate. I forget sometimes that other people fight with their kids to get them to eat veggies - I'm so lucky that mine just naturally love them.

After dinner, we considered having dessert. I didn't really want a lot, a spoonful of something sweet would have made me happy. But we every dessert in the restaurant was made with some kind of nut or nut extract - and MG has a potential nut allergy. So we decided to stop on the way home and grab something. I ended up getting a brownie from a local bakery and some vanilla ice cream from Ben & Jerry's. I got home and decided to save dessert until the girls were in bed. By then I knew I didn't want either a brownie or ice cream. Just the thought of it made me feel full and kind of sugared-out sick.

But I had to call the office and leave a message for Bossman, in response to some STUPID ASS message he left me at 5:30PM. And then I had to call Narcissa back, who had called me for my birthday. And the stress of these two calls made me pick up this brownie. I HATE THAT.

I ate about half the brownie while talking to Narcissa, who had to go into a thing about how she thought that the 29th was on Friday and that's why she hadn't sent me a card, but she hadn't forgotten my birthday the way I did hers. So clearly she's still holding a grudge from last year. Which is funny, because I forgot to send her present exactly the same way - I got my dates mixed up and thought it was earlier in the month than it was. But of course it's OK for her - because she's Narcissa - and I will have to pay the price of my mistake for the rest of her life. Anyway, so I ate that half of a brownie with every bite making me feel sicker and sicker - so why didn't I stop? That's just stupid shit. Really. Eating stuff I don't even want or enjoy. That's just punishing myself with food, or some other kind of ridiculousness.

I guess I should be happy that at least I only ate half of it, and I've followed it up with 3 glasses of water trying to flush that icky feeling away. There was a time, not long ago at all, when I would have eaten the whole thing and washed it down with root beer. Some I'm making progress...I guess.

Still stress eating is a bitch.

44

2007-05-29T09:17:00.000-04:00

They sneak up on me, these non-eventful birthdays. I tend to plan and prepare myself for the big ones - even the ones that are big in my mind, if not in other people's minds.

Like 32 was a big one for me because since I was 13 I had planned to marry at 28, have my first child at 30 and my second at 32. I had married at 28, but to a man I couldn't have children with and by my 32nd birthday, my marriage was over - in fact, at my request, he moved out my birthday weekend. But, while I dealt with the dissapointment that my life had taken a turn I hadn't planned, I was also happy to be free of stressful and tumultuous relationship. 32 was like being reborn. I lost 75lbs, became active and more physically fit than ever before. All was good, but, as I said, that was a significant age to me, as remarkable as 21 or 30 or 35 - all of which were years I prepared myself to deal with as well.

But it's the off years, the unremarkable ones that get me. I know in a few years I won't remember much of what happened for my 44th birthday, just as I don't particularly remember 24 or 34 or 38. All I may remember is that I felt a kind of melancholy today - just as I remember that for all those other unnoticeable birthdays.

Maybe, hopefully, I will remember this as the birthday I got serious about doing something about my weight. I promised myself, a few months ago, that by my 45th birthday I would have the body I want. That I would lose weight, get in shape, and get breast reduction surgery - OH GOD AM I TIRED OF THESE GARGANTUAN BOOBS. And as of today, I have exactly one year to achieve my goal. I don't tend to set goals. I've never been good at it. But I'm setting this one and I'm determined to achieve it. So maybe today won't be so unremarkable in the long run.

But I still feel this dragging sadness. Not really anything to put my finger on. But I just feel kind of...invisible, inconsequential, unimportant. Sort of just not there. I think, even on the good birthdays I feel this way - but when I'm preparing myself to deal with the other emotions of the day, I guess this sensation gets lost in it.

But today I wonder, if anyone would really notice if I just dissapeared. I mean, sure, people would notice a little. BossMan would notice his creative director was gone, the people at MamaGirl's school would notice that the pa president was gone, MamaGirl and Spice would miss their mama, the Bull might notice that he had more to do to take care of the girls, but would anyone really miss ME? Not the jobs I do, the tasks I complete, the roles I fulfill - but me. Does anyone really even know me? I think, so often, that I'm pretty non-descript, and the rest of the time I'm...what? I don't know, but I think it's really, really rare when people see the real me. I think it might be rare when I let myself even see the real me.

I mean I meet people, I remember meeting them, but days or weeks will go by and I'm introduced to them again, and I say, "Oh, we've met before," and they nod and say, "Oh? Yyyyesss..." and in their eyes I see them thinking, "I've never seen this woman before in my life." Am I that forgettable?

And those people who remember me or get to know me, what do they know? So often I hear people describe me as being so different from how I see myself. So which is right? The way others see me, or the way I see myself? I don't know. I do know that I'm not nearly as strong as others see me or even as I see myself. I am weak and vulnerable - not that those are always the same thing - but with me they tend to be connected somehow.

Blech. OK, enough of the self-pitying crap for one day. Odd how my birthday makes me a scared, little gelatinous mess. All the self-doubt comes writhing to the surface. I'm glad it's only one day and that day is almost over.

So, to end on an up note. MamasGirl is truly the light of my life. Not that I don't love Spice just as much. But MamasGirl will always be my first baby. She was so enthusiastic this morning about my birthday, bounded into my room with presents she dug up in her room and re-wrapped in elaborate confections of tissue paper. A necklace, a bell, a "good luck pretzel" (whatever that is) made from a yellow pipecleaner. Each little item was a special treasure - because she made them all special with her bright smile and twinkling eyes. There are no better presents than that. And Spice was a present all in and of herself today - with her fearless and independent nature. What I have to learn from her as she barrells along down the street, refusing to hold anyone's hand - wanting to run into life and grab it with her chubby little hands.

Even when I'm feeling insecure and melancholy and like a giant bundle of nerves and fears, I can't help but look at my girls and know that there is no one on this earth who has it better than I do.

Healthy Fat

2007-05-25T23:32:00.001-04:00

OK, since I brought up the fact that medically, I'm considered "Severely Obese," I know that there are those who would say that I'm putting my health at risk by being fat. But you know what I say to that? I say, phooey! I mean I know that being fat isn't the healthiest state. But it's also not the most unhealthy state either. I've heard people insist that being fat is basically like signing a death sentence for yourself. That by being fat you're condemning yourself to all kinds of health problems. And yes, I know that being fat raises the risk of heart disease, high blood pressure and diabetes, to name a few. But guess what? It doesn't guarantee that any of those things will come to pass.

I get a physical every year and go in for check-ups of various kinds throughout the year. My blood pressure is consistently on the low end of normal as is my blood sugar and my cholesterol. Healthy, healthy, healthy - no different than when I was thin.

What is different than when I was thin? Well, let's see...I don't eat red meat, I don't eat most dairy products, I don't drink soda, I don't drink alcohol, I don't smoke or do drugs of any kind (unless prescribed for a specific ailment and even then I don't like to take them). Yeah, I'm SO much less healthy than when I was thin. Some other difference between fat me and thin me? I walk more, I bike ride more, I chase my kids around (and carry Spice all over), I garden, I climb four freaking flights of stairs to MamaGirls school at least 3 times a week, and I play tennis. Under this fat I have a layer of muscle that's pretty rock hard. My friend, LilacBlue, touched my arm today as I was showing her that middle-aged woman tricep flap that is virtually impossible to get rid of, and was shocked at how muscular my arm was - and it was my "soft" arm - the really hard one is the right arm - my tennis arm. I didn't have muscles like that when I was thin.

I'm a much healthier fat person than I ever was a thin person. Not to say that I won't one day be a healthy thin person. But when I look at my thin lifestyle I know that I had myself at much greater risk for health issues than I do now. So it bugs me when people look at me now and want to say I'm unhealthy JUST because I'm fat. Most people choose to be unhealthy in some way or another but because people can't readily see their poor choices, they don't have to deal with getting called out on it the way fat people do. I want to tell people who like to talk about how unhealthy fat people are that they need to go find a smoker or an alcoholic or one of those flabby skinny (you know the folks who starve themselves thin, but never exercise) people to harrass about being healthy.

You know, I've done the "thin at all costs" thing and that was probably the least healthy I've ever been in my life - and it lasted for a long, long, long time - probably from the time I was about 14 or 15, until I was in my mid-twenties. I was so determined to be thin - thinner than I ever had any right or reason to be. And I would do anything to get and stay there. Or anything I could feasibly manage. I was never bulimic because I couldn't force myself to throw up and the thought of laxatives really grossed me out (my mom did that one, though). But, I starved myself. For a number of years I pretty much lived on nothing but french fries, Tab or Coca-Cola, coffee, dexatrim and cigarettes. I don't think I ate much the entire time I was in high school. And it was pretty iffy in college as well - though I added alcohol and Ramen noodles to the mix.

The way I was thin - made fat look like the height of health. And while I know I was extreme - probably borderline anorexic - I also know that there are a whole LOT of girls and women out there who are putting their health at risk for the sake of being thin. I know, for certain, that there are plenty of women who won't quit smoking or fear of getting fat (one of the reasons it took me a long time to quit). That there are even more women who regularly starve themselves to drop a few pounds. I mean, for crying out loud there is an ad for Nutrisystem that was running constantly last year where this THIN woman was going on about how she used the plan to get from a size 6 to a size 0. Her before and after pictures were ridiculous! That they now advertise dieting programs to get from thin, to SUPER thin astounds me! What the hell is healthy about that?

MamasGirl has gone through various phases already when she's been curious or concerned about weight and we've talked about it. One phase, I know was brought on by her friend, The Wild Imp, being overly concerned about her own weight. The Wild Imp held onto her baby fat for a while - that adorable little girl belly and round face and one of her friends told her she was fat - so she became obsessed with not being fat and scared her parents for a bit. And I know this thinking got MamasGirl thinking and asking questions about weight and size. So I had to reinforce what I've always told her. You try your best to be healthy, above all else. You eat in a balanced way, a lot more good food than junk and you get exercise - preferably everyday. And whatever size you are when you do those things, eat right and exercise - that's the size you're supposed to be - period. Some people are going to be rounder, some leaner looking. Some people are going to always have a little more flesh on them, some are going to be all skin and bones. But as long as you're eating foods that are good for your body and moving your body - that's what's important.

For now she still gets that message and believes it. But I know that the days when someone's ideal of body is going to threaten that message are not far off. I worry about them. Worry about how I can show her that health is more important than size - and that you can't always determine a person's health by looking at their size.

You may have noticed...

2007-05-25T14:13:00.001-04:00

That I haven't posted food or exercise for a few days. It started because I was too tired at night to sit down and post anything. Then I started having pedometer problems. Yesterday is a total loss for me - I have NO idea how many steps I took. The day before I lost a lot of steps but could at least estimate it at around 16,500. Then I kind of slacked off on food recording because it's "that time of the month" and I expected to be just atrocious about what I ate. But, oddly, yesterday I realized I've actually been eating less junk rather than more. I had a salad for dinner on Wednesday night because that's what I craved. I haven't craved salad for YEARS. And last night I had a pasta salad with chicken and green beans - again, because that's what I was craving. Go figure. I just don't want heavy, dense, sweet food - which is normaly what I crave. This morning it took me hours to find something I could stand to eat, and I wound up eating a banana (one of the few fruits I can eat without getting heartburn).

This change of eating habit is not surprising to me. It's what happens when I get exercise. My body starts desiring different foods. And even though some warped part of my brain wants junk - my body has other ideas and takes over by making me crave what I need. I knew this from the last time I lost a considerable amount of weight. But it's been long enough since then that I tricked myself into thinking I needed to focus on food. Now that I'm having this experience of craving different foods again, and remembering what it feels like to WANT to eat differently, I no longer feel like I need to write down what I'm eating. So, from here on out, the food logs will no longer appear.

I was learning some new things by writing down what I ate, so I may bring the food logs back at some point, but for now, they're on hiatus.

Today, so far, I've managed...well, dammit, I just looked at the pedometer and it says 79 steps. I had 3825 when I looked earlier today, but I don't know at what point the pedometer reset itself. I'm going out and buying a decent pedometer.

What's In a Name

2007-05-25T00:22:00.000-04:00

So many of my friends have lamented my use of the name "Fat Lady" that I guess I have to talk a little about why I've chosen that name.

To be honest, part of it is just pure creative license. I liked the idea of naming this blog by playing with the expression about how things aren't over "until the fat lady sings." Though I'm not quite arrogant enough to think that my thoughts on weight represent the definitive opinion on the issue - I still like the idea of implying I'm getting the last word on it. And so it just made sense to call myself "Fat Lady." From this point of view I'd have taken on the moniker even if I were thin.

But, I'm not thin, I'm fat. And not just by my own standards, but by the standards of the society we live in, and even health care professionals. I just calculated my Body Mass Index (BMI) and it is 35.9 - which is considered "Severely Obese." Not a little chubby, not big boned, not shapely, not even just obese - but SEVERELY obese.

Now, I admit that I take BMI with a grain of salt because it doesn't take body type into account. Some people are thicker, heavier, have more muscle or something are just more physically dense than others. MamasGirl has a cousin, Sassy, who is the same age as her. They are both tall and thin - about the same size when you look at them. But even as babies, when you would pick up Sassy, you could feel a difference - she just seemed more solid than MamasGirl. I would bet that they have very different weights, very different BMIs.

As for me, I always take my breasts into account. I mean, I have ENORMOUS breasts. Right now I'm wearing a 36I bra and I am not fully contained. Once, before having kids, when I was a DD cup, I weighed my breasts. Don't ask me what made me think of doing that - probably just the thought I'm expressing here about how different body types have different weights that are healthy for them. So, I weighed my breast and they came in at a whopping 8lbs each - a total of about 16lbs. Now, as I said, my breasts are much bigger than they were then - so I would guess they have to weigh at least 10lbs a piece. Which, according to my logic (which I admit can be pretty different) I should weigh 20lbs more than a woman who has my same build, except has small breasts. But, even if I take 20lbs off my weight I still have a BMI of 32 which is firmly in the obese category (anything over 30 is obese).

And if you want to step away from calculations and just go with fashion - well, I'm fat as far as clothing companies are concerned as well. As I've mentionied before, I primarily shop in Lane Bryant. This is not a store for thin people - it's a store for fat people. I shop here because it is less frustrating than shopping anywhere else. In any other store I am likely not to find anything in my size. In any other store, even if I find something I think is in my size, it's likely it will be too small when I try it on. In any other store the sales people are likely to look at me as though I don't belong there. And they're right, I don't belong there, because I'm fat - and the clothes there are not cut for fat people.

So, I'm not being insecure or self-deprecating by calling myself fat. I'm being honest and straight forward - approaching my size head on. I have to be willing to admit and accept that I'm fat if I want to have any hope of changing it. Saying I'm anything else leaves me in a position to delude myself into believing that it's acceptable to be this size - and it isn't. It isn't by my standards, by medical standards or by society's standards.

One of those things

2007-05-24T10:12:00.000-04:00

This doesn't describe me at all. None of the questions had anything to do with what I'd actually do, or think, or feel, so I kind of picked at random. But, it seemed like a fun thing to post, so I will

You Are 8: The Challenger

You're brave, impulsive, and gutsy - loving challenges.
You act first and think later. And you're not afraid to speak up.

You are confident, so much so that you can be a bit bossy at times.
Whether people like it or not, you always stand up for yourself.

At Your Best: You are heroic, courageous, and ready to change the rules of the world. A true leader and inspiration.

At Your Worst: You intimidate, fight, or threaten to get your way. And you won't back down.

Your Fixation: Lust

Your Primary Fear: Being harmed or controlled

Your Primary Desire: To be independent and self sufficient

Other Number 8's: Donald Trump, Courtney Love, Pablo Picasso, Fidel Castro, and Rosie O'Donnell.

What Number Are You?

The Bad and The Beautiful

2007-05-22T21:09:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the bad. I got almost NO exercise yesterday and that SUCKED. I really have decided that if I just didn't have to work I could be thin and happy! The days I don't have to go to work I just walk and walk and walk, and play outside with Spice and pick MamasGirl up from school and walk some more and life feels good. The days I have to work I'm trapped inside or driving around and I don't get to spend as much time with my girls or get exercise and it feels like crap. Yesterday was the latter.

Had a meeting at the Conservative Consumer Compound. Ugh I hate that place and those people, but they are BossMan's main client and without them, I have no paycheck. But, it's amazing to me, not only what a conservative company it is, but how many brainwashed little automatons work there. I mean I once sat in a room full of Black people there who kept talking about what a radical organization the NAACP is. I mean you would have thought they were talking about the Black Panthers or a terrorist group or something. Blech.

Anyway, old habits die hard, and even though I am broke and trying to get more exercise, I left home late and hopped into a cab to make my meeting on time. No exercise there. And then BossMan had a rare kind moment and offered me a ride home - which I gladly accepted because I was loaded down with stuff and wearing heels (well, heels for me) - which I almost never wear. Then, because I had to drive an hour to go pick up Spice from Saint Aunt and MamaGirls school is on the way, I drove to pick up MamaGirl instead of walking. I really thought I was going to get home in time to go for a nice evening walk to make up my steps - but that never happened. So I ended the day with only 4545 steps - my lowest yet - 55 steps under my goal. I felt SO bad last night.

But, then I didn't eat much. I'm having some kind of heartburn problem that's just knocking me out. More than likely I'll give the doctor a call tomorrow because it's been going on for about 3 weeks and it's not getting better. And it all started with a sip - I mean really A SIP, not a glass, not a drink, not a guzzle, but a SIP of pomegranate juice. Fruit juice just does me in! Well, last night it was so awful I could barely eat anything. So I had a turkey sandwich for lunch and a little bit of chicken and broccoli and brown rice (and a tiny piece of duck because I LOVE duck and I knew if I didn't taste it The Bull would devour it and it wouldn't be around for me to taste the next day)for dinner.

Now today was another story. Today was the Beautiful - well at least for exercise - not so much for food. I ate more junk today, but I walked so much I can't feel even a little bad about what I ate. Here's what I ate:

Banana
Turkey Burger
Some of Spice's icy, Sun Chips, pretzels (starving in the park - take what you can get)
Spaghetti with turkey meat sauce, half a hamburger bun with sauce
4 dark chocolate M&Ms (MamasGirl had them for dessert and I couldn't resist popping a couple in my mouth)

But there was a whole LOT of walking going on. Walked MamasGirl to school then walked home again, which I always estimate as being about a mile then got a ride from the Bull to get to Spice's swimming lesson, but walked home - 2 miles. Then walked back to pick MamasGirl up, hung out in the park for a couple of hours and walked home the long way. My total steps for the day more than quadruples my Challenge goal and exceeds anything I've logged so far - 22,426!!!!!!! Oh how I wish I could have days like this on a regular basis!!! I feel SO much better when I get this level of exercise.

And you know, I'm feeling pretty good this week in general (so far). I know I must be, because I got on a scale today for the first time in a few months, and it didn't mess me up at all. I admit that I was a little dissapointed to see that I'd only lost about 4 lbs since the last time I got on the scale. But I know how it works. I know that focusing on exercise more than food means that the scale doesn't move very much at first, even if the body is getting smaller. Still, even knowing that. Even knowing what I'm hoping to accomplish - a peace of mind, heart and spirit that will result in weight loss - there was a time when I would have just wanted to see the scale move. But I'm surprisingly fine with the scale doing whatever it wants to do. I probably won't look at it again for a while. I don't want to mess up a good thing.

New Jeans

2007-05-21T09:38:00.000-04:00

So, a little while back I decided to face up to the fact that a winter of sitting on my ass and getting NO exercise at all had resulted in said ass spreading too wide to fit into most of my pants. This became particularly clear to me as I was on my way to an event for MamaGirls school and split the inside, thigh seam on a pair of my favorite jeans. I realized not only that I'd put on weight, but also that I wasn't taking care of myself. Because those split jeans were at least 5 years old - probably older. And there were only 2 pairs of pants in my closet that were newer than that - and they were two years old. So clearly, I was due for new jeans.

There was a GAP next to the school event. So I left the event and headed to the GAP. Now it's been a good long while since I've bought jeans anywhere but the chubby girl's haven, Lane Bryant. It's been about 10 years since I walked into the GAP looking for anything for myself. And all I can say, now that I've been back is that they are aptly named, because there's a BIG GAP in their merchandise. I looked on shelf after shelf, rack after rack and found nothing larger than a size 6. There were plenty of 0s and 2s but no 8s, 10s, 12s. And forget about 16s and 18s. Which, stupidly, I was surprised about because on the website they have jeans and pants up to size 20. Ah, but yes, I forgot - the website caters to people throughout the country, and while no one doubts there are overweight people in middle America, there aren't supposed to be any fatties in the middle of Manhattan.

Despite this, way in the back... in the dark, around a deserted corner of the store, hanging on the farthest reaches of a sale rack buried under a plethora of size 0s was one lone pair of size 18 denim trousers. So, I bought them. They're a little too loose and a lot too long, but they're actually quite nice. Wide-legged and neither high nor low waisted which means I don't look like someones grandmother when I wear them, but I also don't have a muffin-top.

But this isn't really about those pants. It's about the jeans I bough the following week. This time I happened to be in Old Navy, buying clothes for MamasGirl. And I figured I'd look for a pair of jeans for myself - being desperate for a pair at this point. Now, I have a general problem with jeans these days - I HATE STRETCH. I don't like the way it feels, I don't like the way it looks. All the things I love about denim is killed by adding lycra or whatever it is they put in to make it adhere to every bump and bulge I possess. And most jeans are made with stretch these days, which just irritates me to no end. Or rather, I should say, most WOMEN'S jeans are made with stretch. Men's jeans are, apparently, free from this horrible invention.

I wandered into the Men's section and there were jeans - just jeans, plain and cotton. Jeans that could be broken in and worn. And guess what else I discovered? And I guess I've known this for a long time, I just forgot. They come in sizes that make sense! The size is the waist size by the inseam length!!! Well, what a novelty that is. Sizes of clothes that have something to do with the size of your body!! Not some random number that makes no sense and is constantly changing and different from place to place. But numbers with meaning!!! And numbers that allow you to buy something that actually FITS! So I grabbed two pairs of jeans - in what I thought was my size, and with no time to try them on, I bought them and left the store.

Well, what I didn't take into account is that men generally have narrower hips than women and so men's jeans are cut with less room in the hips and butt. Which means the jeans were too small when I got them home. However, they were EXACTLY the right length, which in and of itself was GLORIOUS because I haven't bought a pair of jeans that weren't either too long or too short in...well, in forever.

But I was terribly disheartened to get home and discover that I still didn't have a pair of jeans that fit. Just two more pairs that were too small. I folded them up and set them aside with the intent of returning them. But as too often happens...returning jeans gets put way on the back burner.

So, after just one full week of doing this Challenge, yesterday I decided to see if anything different was happening to me physically. I pulled out one of the pairs of jeans - the one I couldn't have returned anyway because I broke a belt loop while trying to pull them on. And guess what? They slid right on!!! No wiggling, jump, hopping or squirming. I just pulled them up!!! And they buttoned! And zipped!! As Spice would say, YEEEE HAWWWWW! Now, there is definitely some muffin-top going on - the fit isn't perfect. But they fit. I could wear them comfortably and move around and bend down to pick up Spice and all that.

Now, they don't look great to me. And when I look at this picture - the voices tell me (See, my friend Bear Maiden, I have voices too) that a) those fat thighs are nothing to be proud of and b)what the hell do I think I'm doing posting a picture that shows what a lousy housekeeper I am with that dirty, fingerprint covered mirror. But I know that I have to share my accomplishments as well as my trials, tribulations, and strange ramblings.

So, share my joy that something as simple as a little walking can make a difference! So often I think it's only the big gestures that count. I'm so thrilled to discover that little steps can make a change. It'll keep me walking.

It's not about the food...

2007-05-20T21:47:00.001-04:00

Or at least not the way I think people think it is. I post my daily food intake on this blog becaus it helps me see things about my eating patterns that are helpful when looking at it as an aspect of the bigger picture of what's going on in my life and how I'm dealing. It helps me to see how I handled food on bad days, and on good days too. What did I do when I was stressed out and had no time? What did I do on a relaxed day when I had a few extra minutes to myself? I DO NOT CARE about how many carbs or calories I ate in a day. That's not what I'm looking for because that's not what's going to help me in the long run.

What's going to help me is being more conscious of how I incorporate food in my life. Being aware of when I use it to help me get through rough emotional times. Looking at which kinds of emotions will prompt me to use food and which ones I can deal with in other ways. I'm very clear on the broad strokes of how I've used food. I am aware of all the ways in which I've made mostly conscious decisions to stay fat. But it's easy to lose sight of the finer details, the small, almost unnoticeable ways I do it everyday. Writing out what I've eaten each day makes me more aware of the little ways I use food.

So, if you're tempted to look at my diet on a particular day or week and say, "Wow, you ate a lot of X. You could lose weight if you just didn't do that," I would say you're better off keeping it to yourself. I mean, it's a free world and unless someone appears with the desire to seriously flame me I have no urge to censor comments. But I find advice on my eating habits is like a tiny, buzzing fly - it doesn't do anything but annoy me.

Does that sound bitchy? Ungrateful? Arrogant? I'm willing to accept those labels more than I'm willing to accept the implication that I don't know how to lose weight and need others to tell me how or what to eat. I have never, once failed in any serious weight loss attempt. Whether it was 10lbs or 75lbs, whenever I've decided to lose weight, I've done it. So advice on eating habits? Nope, don't need it. But thanks for caring. And, honestly, truly, when this particular advice comes from those who I know care, it takes the edge off a little. So, if you've given me advice about eating habits, I hope you're not offended by me completely disregarding it. But I also hope you won't feel the need to give me any more.

And today's menu is:

Cheese, Turkey & Crackers
Banana
Chicken, rice, green beans

Steps 7546 - I also took about a 20 minute bike ride. I know that someplace I saw a chart that estimates how many steps other physical activities like swimming and bike riding are - but I haven't found it yet. I need to do this for the Challenge I'm doing.

Tennis & Pedometers

2007-05-20T01:15:00.000-04:00

Had my tennis lesson today. Last week was my first class and it was great. This week was even better. Coach is really an amazing instructor. I've taken classes with two other instructors that I found somewhat dissapointing. I mean, with one I got some instruction - but I felt like mostly it was repetition without much direct instruction. And with the other one - there was virtually no instruction at all - he just tossed balls at us.

But Coach is different. He's really teaching us to be better players from the start. He's teaching us footwork, and strategy. He's give me specific pointers on how to improve my grip and my stroke and I'm hitting SO much better after just two lessons. And getting a good cardio workout too. These lessons are more expensive than others I've taken, but they're definitely worth the money.

I can barely keep my eyes open, so I'd better list my food and steps for the day so I can go to sleep.

Bowl of granola with soy milk
Corned Beef Hash and Cheese omelette and pancakes at IHop
1 slice of pizza

The pedometers were off again today - more than a 2000 step difference. I give up. I'm just going to use Dark Blue from now on.

7580 steps today. Which seems like so few considering I had that hour-long tennis lesson. It's hard for me to believe that with all that running around I didn't break 10000 steps again. I know I made my goal, but I'm still a little dissapointed. If the weather had been nice today I would have gone for a walk to bring that number up. But it was rainy and cold. Hopefully tomorrow will be a nice day and I can wrack up the steps!

Two Pedometers - Part 2

2007-05-19T09:38:00.000-04:00

Wore both pedometers again yesterday and still got inconsistent results - but the opposite of the day before. This time Light Blue had less steps than Dark Blue - twice. And even that's not consistent. In the morning LB registered 3847 steps and DB showed 4524 - a 677 step difference. When I went back out in the afternoon, I reset the pedometers and moved them from my right hip to my left. That time LB registerd 6351 and DB showed 6431 - only an 80 step difference. So now I really don't know what's up with the pedometers. But, the good news is, either way, I more than doubled my goal of 5000 steps for the second day in a row. I had hoped that by the end of the challenge I would consistently be doing 10000 steps. So it's exciting to me to do that much by the end of the first week.

As for food...hmm I'm not sure I remember what I ate yesterday. Which is why it's good to write it down that day. Hmmm, now I remember. My stomach was feeling funky in the morning so I actually didn't eat breakfast.

Chicken salad on matzoh cracker
Bite of a turkey sandwich that Spice and MamasGirl shared after school
Chinese Food - Chicken Lo Mein, Vegetable Fried Rice & Sesame Chicken

Proud of myself for not touching the chocolate chip cookies that I pigged on the day before. I was still feeling pretty down and wanted SO much to smother the crappy feelings under a pile of chocolate chips and dough. But even my most emotional eating can be controlled sometimes. And the sweets and crap I ate for a couple of days had me feeling so bad physically, that I had to just live with the emotional pain without something sweet to take the edge off. I don't know how I feel about this. It's hard. I've always had something to use to kind of cushion or smother, create a buffer from emotional pain. Cigarettes, alcohol, sex, food. Well I've stripped these things away one by one, either voluntarily or involuntarily.

Food was all I had left. And I resisted taking that away because I really felt like I'd just have nothing. I'd just be alone with my pain - and there's no way that sounded like something good. I'm still scared. I mean right this second, just thinking about it, has a giant, rock rolling around in my stomach and tears welling up in my eyes. It doesn't feel good at all, this idea of having nothing, no resources at all, to cope with the emotional crap. But, at the same time, I can't keep gorging myself with sweets. It's killing me. And, of course, it adds to the emotinal crap too.

Hmm. Better to just keep my focus primarily on the exercise - and let the food stuff do what it will for now. I know I won't eat as many sweets as I was for a long time - but it's going to be easier if I don't tell myself I'm giving them up. At least not until I find a better way to deal.

A Tale of Two Pedometers

2007-05-18T01:36:00.000-04:00

So, I have two pedometers. And I thought I was getting different results from them. One, Light Blue, seemed to be showing less steps than the other, Dark Blue. So, knowing I'd be doing a lot of walking today (class trip to the beach with MamasGirl)I decided to wear them both and see what kind of result I got.

It turns out that Light Blue actually registers A LOT more steps than Dark Blue. So my results were the opposite of what I thought they'd be. But the pedometers were very inconsistent. By lunch time Light Blue was registering around 7000 steps while Dark Blue was only showing a little under 5500. My guess is that Light Blue was correct - not because I would rather believe that walked more than less. But because generally, walking MamasGirl to school and back registers as just under 5000 steps - usually in the 4600-4800 range. So it doesn't seem plausible that chasing 7 and 8 year olds up and down the beach for 2 hours would register only 1000 more steps than walking home. I could be wrong, but I don't think so.

In any event, I will wear them both again tomorrow to see what happens. I'm tempted to add a third pedometer into the mix, but that just seems excessive.

Well, I got lots of exercise today (either 10413 steps or 8746 steps - depending on which pedometer you believe) but I ate pretty terribly again. Here's the food stats:

1 piece of pineapple

Turkey, egg and cheese on a roll - half the bread gone

Turkey sandwich (lettuce, tomato, mayo, on a roll)

Handful of sun chips

Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich (The school packaged lunches and the teachers asked us to carry extras in case some kid lost theirs or something. I'm not supposed to eat peanuts or peanut butter because I'm still nursing Spice and MamasGirl is allergic. But the temptation got to me and I ate that sandwich - hoping that whatever is in it that might cause an allergy would be out of my milk by the time I nursed Spice 8 hours later)

Small slice of homemade cake with chocolate frosting

Chicken, noodles, broccoli, gravy

6 small, homemade chocolate chip cookies

I don't know what was worse, the cake, the cookies or the pbj. Either way, I'm an idiot for eating them and I'm paying for it. My stomach does NOT feel good right now. And I was starting to feel really good from those days I skipped the sweets. Seems like I always have to go through a little physical pain with a direct association to a food before I'm ready to let it go. Maybe the way my stomach feels right now will encourage me to stay off the sweets for a while.

Beauty and the...well Fat

2007-05-18T01:11:00.000-04:00

I don't know why I just thought about this. But, I suddenly got this urge to talk about the difference between being fat and being pregnant. So many women complain about their size and weight when they are pregnant, "Oh I'm so fat!" they will exclaim as though they got to that size by eating french fries and ice cream rather than because they are growing a human being inside of them. Even before experiencing pregnancy myself, I always thought this was an odd concern.

I mean I have NEVER met a pregnant woman who didn't look amazingly beautiful. Pregnancy is it's own separate and beautiful state. I wish that all women could embrace how beautiful they are during pregnancy rather than mourning the loss, however temporary, of the figure they enjoyed before pregnancy. And I think it's indicative our society's tendency to have this really narrow ideal of beauty. There are SO many ways to be beautiful. And women have to, have to, have to learn to accept ourselves and find the beauty in our various stages of life - rather than only being able to see beauty in being young and thin.

The most beautiful I have ever felt was during my pregnancies, both with MamasGirl and Spice. Here I am while pregnant with Spice, just feeling about as beautiful as I ever have in my entire life, pregnant or not.

Looking back at that picture always makes me feel good. Because now I'm not pregnant I'm fat and if you don't think there's a difference, look at this picture taken at the beach today (while on a trip with MamaGirl's school). I weigh about the same amount today as I did in that pregnancy photo (annoying because a couple of weeks after giving birth I weighed almost 20lbs less). THIS is fat - and it's not anything like pregnant. I don't know how people confuse the two at all.

So, next time you're pregnant and tempted to call yourself fat - take a look at these pictures and know there's a big difference between them.

Off the Deep End

2007-05-17T16:44:00.000-04:00

OK, so first of all yesterday - I was so worn out by the end of the day that I just couldn't keep my eyes open to write. I'm not sure what I ate all day. I know I had cereal in the morning, and some Trader Joes canned turkey on crackers for lunch. OK I know, I know, canned turkey sounds nasty. But just think tuna without the mercury - that's basically what it tastes like. I'm kind of freaked out by the mercury in tuna, especially since I'm breastfeeding. So I've been substituting. It's pretty decent. And I had spinach, mushroom lasagna for dinner. I may have snacked in there - but I don't remember. I didn't have dessert, unless you count the crumb I stole off MamaGirls's plate as I handed her dessert.

I also don't know an exact count on my steps for yesterday. At somepoint my pedometer reset and I'm not certain how much I walked. In the morning when I got back from taking MamasGirl to school I checked he ped and it said 4932 - so since the majority of my walking for the day was to go back and get MamasGirl and walk her home, I'm going to double that - so 9864 for the day.

Now, I'm still running behind 'cause I started this post last night, talking about how tired I was the night before, and I dozed off in the middle of writing it. So here it is yet another day gone by. Hopefully I'll be able to keep my eyes open enough to post about today tonight.

So, I just went off the deep end yesterday as far as eating goes. It just goes to show, that when I have more time and more sleep, I am much better at taking care of myself. The less sleep I have and the more rushed I am - the more neglectful I am about caring for me.

Yesterday was one of those crazy days that used to seem almost normal to me. I was up at 6:15, so were The Bull and MamasGirl, but Spice was still kind of knocked out until almost 7am. Somehow managed to get all of us dressed and out the door by 7:30. Dropped MamasGirl off at school and made the more than an hour long trip to the next boro to drop Spice off with my parents(Dad & Stepmom), D&B. Amazingly Spice was in a wonderful mood. She never hesitated for a second about staying there and simply waved goodbye to me when I had to go. I had to borrow D&B's car because TheBull was using our car for work. Made the 30 minute drive to the office - a place I rarely have to visit - thank goodness and spent the morning and early afternoon in a meeting with PapaBoss and his minions. I won't even start in right now on my whole work situation - let's just say it's been convenient, but it's not pretty. Of course that meeting ran late and I had to drive like a maniac to go pick MamasGirl up from school. Picked her up and headed home to email a couple of freelance scripts for an assignment I'd gotten out of the blue at about 9pm the night before. Then drove back to D&B's to return the car. By then Spice was down the block at SaintAunt's so MamasGirl and I headed there to wait for The Bull to pick us up. He didn't manage to get there until about 9:45 because he was working late, which means it was 10:30 before we walked into our apartment and after 11pm by the time I had the girls asleep in bed. LONG DAY!

And because I was so on the run I grabbed food rather than thinking about food. And it was bad. And my tiredness and frustration (at my life situation that has me running all over the city and beyond - as well as other crap)led me to eat more of the crap than I normally would have.

Now, all that could be interpreted as a big, fat excuse - and fine, if it's an excuse, then please come to my house and spend one of those kinds of days with me and show me how to make better choices - but come sleep deprived, sex deprived, life deprived and with the mindset that goes along with all of it - and I will follow your lead exactly. Yeah, I got attitude - I'm tired these days.

So here was my menu yesterday - and it is UGLY:

1 banana
#10 Meal from McDonalds - Filet of Fish, fries & Sprite
2 Snack Wraps from McDonalds
4 Oatmeal Raisin cookies (homemade by SaintAunt)
1/2 Chicken breast and piece of bread

And, while I did manage to meet my walking goal for the day - I didn't exceed it to the extent I have every other day this week. I manage 6347 steps. Reasonable - but not what I wanted.

TMI

2007-05-15T11:28:00.000-04:00

You know I tend to think of myself as a very open person - someone who doesn't worry about whether or not something is "too much information." I try to say what's on my mind. I believe in sharing a good deal of even very personal stuff - because I think there's too much that people don't talk about and I think we could all be saved a whole lot of heartache and pain if we knew that others go through many of the same things we do. For instance, I'm pretty open about telling people that I've had 4 miscarriages. I felt so alone and so damaged when I had those miscarriages. And there wasn't much people could say or do to make me feel better. But one thing that did help was when someone said, "I know what you're going through. I've been there." And I was SHOCKED by how many women said that to me. I mean before I had a miscarriage I would have said I didn't know anyone who'd had one. Turns out I knew LOTS and LOTS of people who'd been through it. But everyone keeps it to themselves. Stays quiet as though it's a secret shame. I really believe that if more of us spoke about it, it would be easier to deal with. Just knowing how common it is, takes away that sensation of being some lone freak who can't carry a baby to term.

Another thing I'm pretty open about is breastfeeding. I was kind of quiet about it with my first child. But again, it was something I struggled with and thought I was the only one going through the things I was. MamasGirls didn't want to wean and so I nursed her until she was 3 years old. I was a "closet nurser" pretty much keeping it hidden from everyone because all my family and friends started getting on my case about weaning as soon as MamasGirl turned 1 years old. If they'd known I continued to nurse her for TWO MORE YEARS - they might have had me committed. But over the years, as I've grown more comfortable with myself - OK, since I got my "Over 40, I don't give a fuck what you think" attitude - I've been more open about admitting to people how long I nursed. And guess what? 3 years old ain't nothing!!!! I've met people who admitted to me, albeit very quietly, that they nursed their kids until as old as 6 or 7. Well boy do I wish I had known them when I was struggling with continuing to nurse a 14mo!! And so, I'm very open about continuing to nurse Spice as her second birthday approaches. If even one mother who is struggling with nursing past one gets a sense of comfort or not feeling alone because she saw me nursing Spice or heard me talk about it, well, then it's worth it for every person who says to me (like someone said to me today) "I really think you should wean her NOW."

OK, well that was two long tangents on my way to talking about how while blogging I've become concerned that there actually is such a thing as TMI and how maybe I'm not as open a person as I thought. If part of my purpose in writing this blog is to deal with the underlying issues related to my weight, then it would make sense to write about those issues openly and honestly. And yet, I am hesitant to do so. Hesitant to put my thoughts, feelings and experiences about certain aspects of my life on public view in general - and to people I know specifically. Some of this has to do with the fact that some issues are just embarrassing or uncomfortable.

But it also has something to do with the fact that I've become really, really comfortable over the years with not sharing my tougher, sadder feelings with people. It's been many, many, many years since I've called a friend up crying, or asked someone close to me to sit and listen to me babble my way through a decision.

During my first marriage (well, really my only legal marriage - The Bull and I have never walked down the aisle)I discovered that when it comes to a long term relationship with a man, and family and friends - that the best thing is not to go crying to your family and friends unless you're pretty much ready to walk out on that man. Because if you're just working through how to deal with some stupidity from that man and you're not ready to leave him for it - you end up looking like an idiot to family and friends. This is particularly true if you have a difficult relationship and go through changes on any kind of regular basis. So, with The Ex I learned how to deal alone. Sometimes talking to myself or just going through changes until I got past them, or was ready to move on. But, the thing is, what ultimately helped me be ready to move on was finally talking. Talking to a rooms full of strangers who understood what I was going through when I started going to al-anon meetings.

I've fallen back into that pattern of keeping things to myself. Mostly, now, because I don't have time to sit down and share with friends. But also because, I think, it's a familiar and comfortable place. Burying stuff, pushing it aside to get through the day, or the week, or the month.

And now I've put myself in a position to put myself out there again. To share with friends and strangers what's going on in my head and in my relationship - honestly, brutally honestly, in a no holds barred kind of way. But I don't know if I'm ready for that. So, suddenly, just about everything seems like TMI - except what I ate and how much I've walked each day.

Just Another Day

2007-05-14T23:40:00.000-04:00

Not much to say today. As usual I got caught up in something for someone else and let something I was going to do for myself go. I was supposed to go hit the ball for a while after dropping MamasGirl at school. But, instead I hung out at school until it was too late.

Still, I managed to get all my walking in and then some. I'm amazed at how easy it is to meet my walking goal. It's just a matter of getting OUT OF THE HOUSE.

It's amazing how something that should be so easy, has become out of the ordinary for me. Since Spice was born I've allowed myself to become trapped inside. Working and caring for Spice simultaneously had me inside for days on end - for months and months and months and now I'm just discovering what that did to me. I'm so happy to be getting out and moving more. I'll gladly do what I need to figure out how not to get caught back in that horrible cycle.

Food:

Turkey, egg and cheese on a roll - half the roll removed on half the sandwich
Chicken Quesadilla
Lamb, Egg Noodles, String Beans and gravy
1/2 Slice of Homemade cake (from scratch)with dark chocolate icing

Exercise:

9382 Steps

Mother's Day & The Challenge

2007-05-13T23:37:00.000-04:00

Happy Mother's Day!

Mine wasn't too bad, as these days go. It had it's major ups and downs. The ups were MamasGirl sneaking in to wake up The Bull so they could gather up presents for me. The Bull really came through, not only with the iPod he knew I desperately wanted, but also with gorgeous orange roses and a card with a picture of the girls and Spice's fingerprints as her signature.

But, then as soon as the girls were up and bouncing around, he laid down in the bed and went to sleep. He slept in for most of the morning while I took care of the girls and eventually got them dressed and their hair done to visit his mother. So much for taking it easy on Mother's Day.

Just as I finished getting the girls ready to go, I got a call from Narcissa. This is precisely what I dreaded. I wanted to call her before she called me, but she beat me to the punch and started in on how horrible it was to be alone on Mother's Day and she hadn't even heard from me. I quickly cut her off by letting the girls get on the phone and wish her Happy MD. And in doing so discovered the best way to have a civil conversation with her. Everytime she would start on one of her guilt trips I would change the subject by asking her about something else I knew she'd want to talk about. I feel like it's taken me almost 44 years, but I finally figured out how to deal with her without driviing myself insane. Just keep distracting her.

Unfortunately, I'd been hoping to have an afternoon to myself, and that was blown by staying on the phone with Narcissa for more than 3 hours. But I felt like I owed it to her. She's been calling me for weeks and haven't called her back. I just wasn't feeling strong enough to deal with her. And while I regret letting so much time go by in some ways, I'm glad in others. If I'd spoken to her sooner I'd have probably blown up at her, which would have been worse than not speaking to her at all. I think it's only by taking the time off from her I needed that I was able to deal with her so well. I felt oddly detached from her, which is something I've need forever.

When I start dealing with the underlying reasons for my weight, believe me there will be plenty about Narcissa - growing up with a bulimic, narcissistic, alcoholic mother leaves some wounds. In some ways I guess I'm lucky that food is all I use to soothe them. of course that sounds a little more pathetic than I feel - but, she's had her impact on my weight, none-the-less.

After all that time on the phone with her, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed with a hot fudge sundae. But it was the first day of the WOMAN Challenge, an 8 week challenge to encourage women to increase physical activity. I signed up, and my goal is that by the end of the challenge I will be consistently working out for 1 hour everyday.

The last couple of weeks I've been good about increasing my physical activity - but this is extra incentive. And I made it even more encouraging by starting a team for the challenge. So now I'm accountable to others as well.

I tried to talk myself out of exercising today. I convinced myself I would make it up another day. I told myself that NO ONE would be trying to get their workout in today - it's Mother's Day! But in the end, I decided that what I needed to shake off the conversation with my mom was to go out, enjoy the sunshine and listen to my new iPod.

I took a nice long walk through CP, then stopped at a handball court in a street playground and hit the tennis ball (with a tennis racket) for about 30 minutes. I can tell that the tennis lesson I took Saturday really worked me out because, for the first time ever, my arm was really sore (in that good way you get sore from a hard work out).

So here's my menu and exercise for the day:

Food:

2 slices of french toast
1 Chicken Quesadilla
Cheese and crackers
Mexican Food Combo with rice and refried beens plus chicken enchilada and chicken burrito
half-bowl of granola with soy milk

Exercise

1/2 hour of "tennis" (hitting the ball against a wall)
8077 Steps

Skipped a Day

2007-05-13T09:19:00.000-04:00

I was in a FOUL mood yesterday thanks to some idiocy The Bull pulled the night before. So on edge that even an intense tennis lesson and running through the playground in the sunshine with the kids couldn't shake it. I was so grumpy I forced MamasGirl to go to bed at exactly her bedtime even though it was a Saturday night and one of her favorite movies was on TV. I hate it when being a person gets in the way of being a mom. I know it's not right to let my moods affect my kids, but sometimes, I just can't help it.

I debated between posting my food and exercise here and going to bed early. I opted for going to bed early. So, a little late, here's my food and exercise for the day.

Food:

Half matzoh cracker with Olivio
6 (5 Teriyaki, 1 Barbecue) Chicken Wings and half a small waffle (Harlem Wing & Waffle - YUM!)
5 Stone Ground Crackers & 1 slice of Cheese
Chicken, Rice, Broccoli, Carrots
2 Biscuits

Exercise:

1 hour of KICK ASS tennis class
1 mile of walking

My big accomplishment for the week

2007-05-12T01:14:00.000-04:00

Last night as I was getting ready to go to bed, I realized that I went all day yesterday without eating any sweets. I mean, I had my granola and krispies in the morning, but for me, that doesn't count. I had no cookies, cake, candy, sorbet, pie or chocolate. I can't remember the last time that happened. I've thought about cutting out sweets for a short time - like a week - just to break me of the habit of having something sweet everyday. But I've resisted it. I do a lot of emotional eating and I'm not yet ready, emotionally to give up my "candy crutch." Yet, yesterday I did it without thought. I'm too happy about that for words.

Sadly, I did not stick to that today. Here's my menu for today.

Turkey egg and cheese on a roll with half of the roll removed (not trying to cut back on the carbs, but it was just too much and the turkey, egg and cheese tasted better than the roll.

Matzoh cracker with butter

A few small pieces of cheese

Matzoh cracker with butter and grape jelly

A chocolate dipped cookie

Quiznos Turkey sub, but I picked most of the turkey out and gave it to spice.

Another Matzoh cracker - I don't know they just tasted SO good today.

A cup of Pirate Booty

Iced tea, Vitamin Water, water

Exercise:

Walked 2.22 miles

For the record

2007-05-11T23:32:00.000-04:00

My friend bear maiden suggested to me today that I cut down on carbs. I think I must have been waiting for someone to suggest this to me when I decided to start keeping a log of what I'm eating. I know I eat a lot of carbs. And I know it's still very popular these days to cut or eliminate carbs. But that's just not going to happen for me, for a number of reasons.

But, it made me realize that there are certain limitations to my diet already that I don't put out there very often. So, for the record, here are the limits I already live with.

No Red Meat - No beef or pork. Occasionally lamb - but I will probably pay for it. I don't know why I can't eat red meat. I didn't make a decision to limit this food, my body made it for me. In my late 20's I suddenly found myself unable to eat ground beef. I would be sick, sometimes for days, from one hamburger. By the time I hit my early 30's this reaction extended to all beef and pork as well. For a while it was so bad that if I went to a restaurant and ate a turkey burger that was cooked on a grill immediately after a hamburger I would get sick from it. It's equally confusing to me that for some reason my body's ban on beef is lifted when I'm pregnant. I crave beef while pregnant and can eat it without any problem. But within a year of giving birth, I'm back to getting sick again.

Limited Dairy - MamasGirl reacts to dairy something awful. She had horrendous eczema as a baby and toddler. When she was around 2.5 we decided to try taking dairy out of her diet. Within 2 weeks the eczema disappeared and has never been seen again. Of course, it's much easier to cut something out of your child's diet if you cut it out of your own as well. So we eliminated dairy products from our household. After about 6 months like this I had some ice cream at a friend's house. I felt awful - bloated, gassy, just nasty. I realized then, that I had always felt this way when I had dairy - I just thought it was normal. So I decided then that I wasn't just cutting out dairy for MamasGirl, I was doing it for me too. Since then I've allowed some cheese back into both of our diets without problems - but no milk, ice cream, butter, etc.

No Nuts - MamasGirl is allergic to peanuts. She doesn't seem to react to them the way most allergic people do, though. Her reaction looks like a severe seasonal allergy. When she is around peanuts or peanut butter her eyes get red and watery, she starts sneezing like crazy and her face gets puffy. It's strange. If she eats peanuts or peanut butter she complains that it burns her mouth. Because of the way her allergy works, I can't have peanut products in the house. Also, because of MamasGirl's allergy, I've been extra cautious about eating nuts while still nursing Spice.

Limited Fruit and No Fruit Juice - Just as I developed a problem with red meat in my late 20s, I began to develop a problem with fruit in my late 30s. It took me a long time to figure out that fruit was at the source of my problem. For years I would periodically get this annoying pain in my chest and I had no idea what it was. Sometimes I would wake up with it and think that I had slept in an odd position and pulled a muscle in my chest. Other times I would fear I was having heart problems. I finally, after a really long time, figured out that I would get the pain within 24 hours of drinking fruit juice. I guess it's a kind of heartburn - though, no heartburn medication I've tried alleviates it. Recently, it seems that many fruits create the same result. I've never been much of a fruit eater - mostly because fruit tends to be too inconsistent for me. I hate that you can pick up a piece of fruit that looks beautiful and smells wonderful and it tastes like crap. It's just not right that something that has the potential to taste so good can sometimes taste so bad - and there's no way to tell except to bite it. Still, I enjoy many summer fruits and am disspointed to know that I'm risking days of pain and discomfort if I eat even the smallest piece of it.

As mentioned in a previous post, people love to give me weight-loss tips. I've had people tell me that I should cut out dairy, and when I tell them I don't eat dairy, they say to cut out red meat, when I tell them I don't eat that either they just look at me perplexed - as thought they want to say, "How can you be so fat if you don't eat any of that stuff?"

Really, if my body hadn't decided for me that I had to give up the foods I have, there's no way I would ever make a conscious decision to give up any one food. I don't believe that's a healthy way to lose weight AND keep it off. I don't give anything up to lose weight unless I'm prepared to give it up forever. Because as soon as you start eating whatever it is you gave up - your body will go crazy and start gaining weight - even if you don't eat a lot of it. And, chances are, even if you don't eat it ever again - the body will adjust and put the weight on anyway. I lost weight when I gave up red meat and again when I gave up dairy - but clearly, I didn't keep it off.

Also, I just have this kind of silly reason for not wanting to give up carbs. The dieting craze that immediately preceded low carbs was low fat. Everyone was all into staying away from fat - to the point where a lot of people were just drying up and making themselves sick because they weren't getting enough fat in their system.

During the low fat phase I remember eating lunch with a friend who jumps on whatever diet bandwagon that's going. She is a beautiful woman with a knock out body. She's tall, long-legged and curvy and those curves work both when she's very thin, and when she has a little meat on her bones. So during the low-fat craze we were eating lunch and she picked up a piece of bread fromt he breadbasket on the table and told me that bread was great for dieting. That she could eat as much as she wanted and it was filling - she just didn't put butter on it, to avoid the fat. Instead she slathered her bread with mustard. Seemed a little extreme to me. I thought why not just eat a small piece of bread with a little butter. But she insisted that filling up on bread with mustard was better so she could eat less of the meat in her dish when it came.

A year later the no-carb craze hit hard and I was back in the same restaurant with the same friend. She ordered something that had a lot of fat to it, I can't remember what, but you know, something like, butter sauteed steak, but when the waiter put the bread basket on the table she asked him to take it away. She then went on to tell me that fat was ok, that carbs were the real enemy. She could have all the butter she wanted as long as she stayed away from the bread. The exact opposite of what she was saying a year before.

This contradiction has always stuck with me. People will believe whatever to feel like they are in control - even if what they believe today is the exact opposite of what they believed yesterday.

I think maybe too many carbs are not great (and I probably eat too many) but I think low or no carbs are just as bad - as is low or no fat.

Eating in a balanced way is good - no matter what the latest craze is.

I have given up so much in the last decade. In addition to the foods I was forced to give up, I've also denied myself alcohol, smoking, and the sex life I want (I won't even begin to elaborate on that) I'm not giving up one more thing unless my body forces me to - no way.

Standing firmly in my own way

2007-05-10T22:34:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I'm still getting in my own way. Today wasn't a good day for food or exercise. Not a horrible day for food - but not good. And just a ridiculous day for exercise. I had some good ideas - but no motivation. I just continually let the morning get away from me - and that just sends me down a bad path for the rest of the day.

Spice and I just lazed around this morning. That child will just sit and nurse for hours in the morning if I let her. And I tend to get so sapped by the contact of nursing that I just get too tired to stop her. It's a bad cycle. I think I'm going to have to get up and out and moving in the morning to keep us from sinking into that lethargic nursing thing. That's going to be hard for me. I'm not a morning person. But I think it has to be done.

So, today, I let Spice and I lie around until almost 10am before I got moving around productively. And nothing I did had exercise built into it. Sorted clothes for Spice and MamasGirl - pulling out summer, putting away winter and putting aside stuff to give away. Took 4 big bags of clothes to my friend, Toast, who lives cross town and has two daughters who are each a year younger than each of mine. Then Spice, The Bull and I went to a nursery to get flowers for our garden plot. I guess I could count planting the flowers as some kind of exercise - but it wasn't much. Mostly today was just a lot of driving around - which I guess is fine - but if I know I'm going to have that kind of day, I think I have to make sure I get some exercise in early to balance it out.

So, anyway, not a great day - and I didn't make any effort to make it better. So there isn't much more to say about it. I guess I'll just post my food for the day - no exercise, cause I didn't get any.

Bowl of half granola half krispies with soy milk
Turkey Burger and Fries, Coca-Cola
Piece of Chicken, with rice and carrots, iced tea
Pirate Booty - too much - NEVER eat straight from the bag!

Contemplating a soy chai latte but it's almost midnight and I know if I drink it I won't hit the bed before 2am.

Fat not Stupid

2007-05-10T02:39:00.000-04:00

I HATE it when people treat me as though I know nothing about weight loss, or weight related health issues. Do people really think that just because I'm fat, I must be stupid too?

A few weeks ago I took Spice to the playroom with open playtime at the Y. It's one of the perks of membership I hadn't taken advantage of yet. It was really cute - but lots of pushy, slightly older kids there with their nannies. I won't go into it now - but kids with nannies are always a little wilder than kids with their parents (and I'm not saying it's necessarily any fault of the nannies). So after a few minutes I was tired of that scene. I mean it gets old real fast explaining to kid after kid why they need to move the huge stack of blocks off the slide so your toddler (and all the other kids in the place) can slide down. So, I took advantage of Spice's rare good mood and high-tailed it out of there.

I decided to stop off at the membership desk to sign Spice up for a swim class. I've been pretty lazy about getting her out and around other kids her age, so I figured it's time - and she LOVES the water. While I was there, the manager at the desk recommended this PersonalFit program where you workout in a private room and have intermittent consultations with a trainer for 12 weeks. And it's free for members. Sounded good, so I went upstairs to make an appointment with the trainer.

Now I was a little surprised to see this woman who is at least 10 years my senior and about 20-25lbs overweight. But hey, that's cool for me - at least I won't be as intimidated to work with her as some 20 year-old hardbody. And she seemed nice. I made my appointment and headed out of there, feeling good.

When I go in for the appointment Miss Trainer is personable and chatty - maybe a little to chatty - and little more personal than personable. She starts giving me tips on how to lose weight. Did I ask her for this? Did I give her any indication that I don't know how to lose weight - other than the sight of my fat ass? No.

In fact, I she asked me about my history and I was very clear that I've lost weight both effectively and stupidly in the past. But she still keeps saying things like, "You know it really works to just take a piece of whatever it is you want, and then throw the rest away." Or other simple dieting tips - all of which I know backwards and forwards. So, every time she starts to give me a tip, I cut her off and tell her that I know the tip and tell her 3 different variations on the tip, including how I've made it work for me in the past. I tell her, over and over, that my most successful weight-loss was 75lbs - and I did it without dieting, and by using ALL of the tips she's trying to give me and then some. I tell her I've done every diet in the book and know what works and doesn't work with most of them. And yet, SHE KEEPS GIVING ME THESE STUPID-ASS TIPS.

I know, I know, people think that if you know WHY you should lose weight and you know HOW to do it, then there's no reason for you to be fat. Of course that's so logical. But, you know, there are plenty of people out there who know WHY you shouldn't be an obnoxious, rude asshole, and HOW not to be an obnoxious, rude asshole, and somehow...they just continue to be obnoxious, rude assholes - but I don't treat them like they're stupid.

And I know people really think they're being helpful. They really think that if I just knew how well this one thing or the other works, then it'll be so easy for me. But that's just not how it goes.

The other one that gets me is when people start rattling off the health risks associated with being fat. "You know, obese people are at greater risk for high blood pressure (heart disease, and my all time favorite - diabetes," people say as though this information has not been plastered all over every news report, magazine cover, and commercial for every product from Special K to the Ab Bender Deluxe 3000. Yes, I know, I know, I know - being fat is NOT healthy. I get it. And I suppose, again, that people think that if I know it's not healthy, then I will stop being fat. Listen - smoking cigarettes isn't healthy - but I smoked them for 20 years. Drinking alcohol isn't healthy, but I've certainly over-indulged in that enough in my younger years. Lots of things aren't healthy.

And you know what really isn't healthy? Living on cigarettes, coffee and coca-cola isn't healthy. Starving yourself for a week or two at a time isn't healthy. Taking half a pack of Dexatrim a day isn't healthy. Eating nothing but cabbage soup all day cannot be healthy. But no one felt compelled to tell me that as though I was too dumb to know it. My eating, exercise and lifestyle habits while I was thin were much less healthy than being fat could ever be. Not to mention, that studies have shown that yo-yo dieting is much less healthy than being even morbidly obese.

But the point isn't really that I'm actually much healthier now than I ever was when I was thin. The point is that I know all about the health implications of being overweight, just like I know all the approaches and tips there are for losing weight. I'm not fat because I'm stupid.

I get in my own way

2007-05-09T22:33:00.000-04:00

I contemplated going to the gym today. Spice would have gone to the gym babysitting. She has never been in any kind of daycare situation. Has only been watched by family - Grandma and Grandpa (or Panpa, as she calls him) and my Saint Aunts. So I wasn't sure how she'd handle it. We stopped by there the other day after her swim lesson, so she could check the place out. She loved it and didn't want to leave - but that was with me there. No telling how she'd react to me leaving. But I thought if I walked there and back that's about 4.5 miles - so even if I didn't get to work out, I'd still get exercise.

It was a good plan. But I got in my own way. I procrastinated and putzed around until almost 11am. Then I told myself it was fine - I'd walk down, get there around 11:45 or 12, depending on whether Spice would stay in the stroller or insist on walking at times, finish and walk back by 1:30 at the latest. Sounded good to me, until I got about 7 blocks from my apartment and remembered that babysitting is only from 9-12. Well, it would be pretty silly to get there just as it was closing - WHAT WAS I THINKING? I just love it when I sabotage myself like that - I'm such a putz.

Of course, I could have decided to walk on down there and back anyway, but I flaked on it and just took Spice to the playground. Her fearlessness amazes me. She just goes for whatever it is she wants. She will climb any ladder, will make her way to the top of the biggest slide and just goes down without hesitation. She's so her own person. I adore her beyond words - even when she's standing in an elevator with her head against my knees mumbling, "I no wanna talk to you," to whoever happens to be in the elevator with us. My girl speaks her mind.

Getting back to food and exercise, despite my flakiness, I did manage to get 2 miles worth of walking in today. I guess just walking to do errands and chasing Spice around two different playgrounds (one in the morning and one in the evening) is enough to add up.

As usual, getting out of the house keeps my hands out of the food. This was helped by me having some weird heartburn thing going on. For some reason I don't understand I can't drink any kind of fruit juice. Monday night I took the smallest sip of sparkling pomegranate and have been paying for it dearly since Tuesday morning. Horrible, stabbing, squeezing pain that feels just like how I've always heard heart attacks described. But it's on the right side and I've had it enough times now that I know what it is. Broke down and took some over the counter crap for it. I guess I should see the doctor - but I seem to remember asking him about it before and him thiking it wasn't a big deal. Maybe my next physical I'll bring it up.

So being out and having less appetite made today better than most others and I also found that knowing I was going to write it down here influenced my eating choices as well.

I'm not sure it made me eat less - but it did make me aware of just how much I was eating. More than once I stopped to count how many of a particular item I was grabbing to eat. And maybe, knowing just how many did make me stop when I normally would have grabbed more.

So here's the menu:

1/2 bowl of granola/krispies mix
10 stone ground wheat crackers with one slice of turkey and 2 pieces of extra sharp cheddar.
A handful of tortilla chips - I actually tried to keep count at one point - but c'mon, they're chips - if I really start counting chips I might have to have myself committed.

1 small turkey burger and fries
1 piece of chocolate chip cake

Water (not enough), Green Ice Tea (too much)

And Exercise Too

2007-05-08T15:58:00.000-04:00

I guess if I'm going to keep a log of the foods I eat, I should also keep track, in writing, of how much I exercise. I think that exercise is actually more vital to weight loss, at least for me, than diet. So if I think that writing down what I eat is going to make a difference - then writing down when I exercise HAS to help.

I've been working at incorporating exercise into my everyday life more and more. Of course the easiest way to do this is to walk more. Life has slowed down for me a little of late, so I'm not always rushing to get from one place to the next - which gives me time to walk more places. One day last week I walked everywhere I needed to go and ended up putting in almost 5 miles by the end of the day. Most days it's only a mile or two at most. And some days it's not even that.

Today I walked home from Spice's swim lesson - 40 blocks and 2 avenues, so a little over two miles. I'd planned to walk to pick MamasGirl up from school, which would have added another mile - but I was too tired (up all night worrying - which is another post) so I lazily drove instead - which is good because I ended up picking up two other kids in addition to my own. Which is fine because I adore these kids, a brother and sister (who I think I'll call Elmo and Zoe because they both remind me of Muppets in their cuteness and craziness), and their parents. And also this giant tent that MamasGirl made in class and of course wants to display somewhere in our way too small apartment (also another post).

So here's my menu for today and my exercise.

1 Matzoh cracker with olivio and 1 slice of cheese

1 Slice of Pizza

1 Snapple Lime Green Tea

1 1/2 pieces of chicken with rice and string beans

1 piece of choclate chip cake

One added advantage of all the walking is that I was out and about and had no time for snacking.

Walked 2 miles
Pool Time - wading through water, lifting Spice up and down.

That was pretty light.

Fatism

2007-05-08T02:28:00.000-04:00

Took MamasGirl to tennis lesson last Wednesday and noticed this kid there that The Bull worked with when he was coaching tennis last summer. He's a young, white boy, probably about 14yo. He's probably about my height - around 5'4" or 5'5" and he must weigh at least 250 to 275. I mean this is a BIG boy. He gets out there and plays tennis and runs laps and he must be sticking to it, because the coaches in this program are pretty hard on the kids and don't let anyone slack off. I watched this kid both on and off the court and he's personable, funny, even charming.

I asked The Bull about him and he said that he really connected with the kid last summer. He said that he did have to push him, that the kid would try to get by doing as little as possible, but that he was really a good kid - interesting and funny. He said, though, that even though this kid is from this really privileged, Upper East Side world, that he suffers because he says he's frequently teased and ostracized because of his weight. The Bull was pretty incredulous about this, "Is it really possible that he gets so much flack for it?" he asked me. I had to ask him if he was kidding. I was surprised that he was really unaware that fatism, discriminating against people because of their weight, is about the only universally acceptable discrimination left.

People can, and do make statements about fat people that they could never make about any other group of people. It's ok to make jokes, and outrageous statements about fat people, to ostrasize, demean, and generally look down on anyone who's overweight in ways that it isn't ok to do the same about anyone else. Take any fat joke that everyone laughs at and replace the word fat with black, or woman, or gay and I guarantee people will be up in arms. I hate to say it, but if the Rutgers women had been overweight and on a non-athletic team and Imus had called them "fat-assed ho's" no one would have even blinked.

I know why this is. It's obvious. There is an assumption that, at best, people make the choice to be fat - are unwilling to do what they need to lose weight, and at worse, that they are fat because they simply lack self-control. Either way, the assumption is that fat people are at fault for their condition. Eat right and exercise people say. It's simple - amazingly simple to be thin. And anyone who can't manage to follow such an incredibly simple path to societal acceptance must be deserving of contempt, disdain, and an endless litany of bad jokes.

As my friend, the bearmaiden, says people suck. Though, most times I think that people are mostly just scared. Scared of their own crap, scared that they don't measure up in one way or another and so they take it out on others. Somehow it helps them hide from their own crap to look down on others. Sad. But then I guess you could say that being fat is my way of hiding from my baggage. Still, I'd rather be fat than be an asshole.

More Food

2007-05-07T23:10:00.000-04:00

Ok, well, it's time to fess up for today. I don't know that I have much else to say beyond listing my eats for the day.

1 piece of toast with olivio (MooGirl can't have dairy, so we eat butter substitutes)
1/2 bowl of granola/rice krispies
1 matzoh cracker with olivio
slice of honey turkey with 5 stone ground crackers
slice of pizza
2 1/2 chocolate hazelnut wafer cookies
1 1/2 bowls of spaghetti with sauce (marina with extra lean ground turkey)
1 piece of chocolate chip cake - with a chunk ripped off by the Bull

I'm finally having that iced chai latte I kept saying I was having yesterday but never got to. It's SO good.

Write it Down

2007-05-06T12:56:00.000-04:00

Well, I've made the decision to take a pretty big step on this journey to have a body I feel comfortable with. I've decided to start keeping a food journal - writing down what I eat everyday. I don't know exactly what this will accomplish. I know it's supposed to make me more aware of just how much I'm eating, to be clear about where I need to make changes in my eating habits.

But, honestly, I don't think keeping an eating journal will have that effect. I'm pretty aware of what I eat. I'm pretty conscious of all the times I go down paths that lead to the land of fat. I doubt that writing it down will make a difference. But it's been recommended to me so many times, I guess I should give it a try. At least it's not a diet.

Mostly, I think that how it will help me is that it will force me to write at least something here everyday. I think this blog may just help me face the underlying issues to my weight - and that's where the real secret to being thin is hiding.

So, here's today's menu so far - at 1pm on a Sunday afternoon:

1 bowl of cereal (half granola/half Rice Crispies) with soy milk

1/2 of a turkey & swiss wrap - lettuce & tomato, no mayo

Handful of cinammon and sugar pita chips.

I haven't had it yet, but I'm on my way to the kitchen to make:

An iced soy chai latte.

Editing to finish my food for the day.

I didn't have the iced soy chai latte but I think I will before bed, so it stands for now - I'll edit again if need be.

Extra sharp cheddar cheese and mini stone ground wheat crackers. I'm not really sure how many - maybe ten crackers each with a small, thinly sliced square of cheese.

Two pieces of smothered chicken with macaroni & cheese and collard greens

Which was really too much. I could have been satisfied with one piece of chicken, yet I put two on my plate. And sadly if there were two on the plate, two were going to be eaten.

Finally had a piece of apple streudel. Again, it was too much. I could have done without it - but it was put on a plate and handed to me, so I ate it.

Now, with this too-full feeling I have to wonder what in the world it is that makes me eat more food than I need or even want.

A City Girl in the Country 2006 - Or How I Lost the Battle of the Bug

2006-08-23T23:25:00.000-04:00

Let's remember that I am truly a city girl. Forget about the fact that I think that growing up in a wooded area of the Bronx makes me a little less city than people who grew up on the concrete island of Manhattan. Forget about the fact that I live across the street from a pond and see all kinds of water fowl and frogs and turtles and dragonflies and other harmless bugs. All that counts for this story is that my life-long phobia of bugs, that I thought I had under control was trotted out big time in the last 24 hours.

So, some friends have a bungalow on a lake not far from the city (about an hour's drive). And while they were away in Maine they offered the use of the bungalow to us. So MamasGirl, Spice and I went up there for what was supposed to be a relaxing 3-day trip. The Bull couldn't go because he had to work. And I really needed time away from him, so all the better.

Now we've been up there before and I've seen that there are lots of bugs up there. No big deal. I've worked really hard to control my bug phobia in trying to help MamasGirl overcome hers. So, I might have to kill a beetle or shoo away a daddy long legs. I figured I could handle that.

So MamasGirl and Spice are in the bungalow while I'm unloading the car and I hear a blood curdling scream. I run up to the bungalow and MamasGirl is in hysterics over an admittedly large horned looking beetle. I'm a little freaked by it, but I manage to squash it and convince MamasGirl to stay. Saying, "I don't let little things like bugs keep me from doing what I want to do." Boy, did those words come back to bite my ass!

We unpack, have lunch, change into bathing suits, going swimming in the lake, come back, read books (there's no tv - Yeah!) eat dinner, and then lie down to put Spice to bed. I promised MamasGirl after Spice was asleep we could play cards. But we all fall asleep. I wake up and get on the computer to play and catch up on work.

About 12pm the biggest bug I have ever seen in my life walks out of the kitchen area and across the floor. I mean this thing is about half the size of my foot. About three inches long with legs twice as long as it's body. I freeze and watch it. It walks away from me to the other side of the bungalow over by a window. I pray that it knows it's way out and go back to the computer.

About 1:30 I'm thinking about this bug and I email my friend, Ros, and ask her to tell me that I can survive with this bug around. I hit send and look down and the giant bug is on the floor about 5 feet away from me.

I get up, run to the broom closet, grab the longest brooom I can find and come back to whack the thing. But it's so big that I'm afraid the bristles of the broom won't crush it. So I slide one of my sandals on to the end of the broom and bring it down on the thing. I know I hit it, but it just bounces back and leaps away.

Ok THIS THING FUCKING LEAPS!

I grab my sandal and throw it at it. It leaps again and is now under a desk. Now I know I'm not getting close to it because it could leap on to me and that would send me over the deep end. So I grab a towel and throw it over it and start pounding on the towel with the broom. ANd the thing LEAPS out from under the towel - TOWARDS me. I back-peddle fast and start whacking at it. I know I hit it a couple of times, but it still doesn't die. It leaps off into the other part of the bungalow - away from me, away from the bedroom. So I leave the lights on and go to bed. I sit up for as long as I can, looking to make sure it isn't coming for me. Really, part of my phobia of bugs is that I'm always convinced they're coming after me. But, I know this irrational. And eventually at around 3:30 I fall asleep.

6:30am, MamasGirl gets up and goes to the bathroom. I fall back asleep. A few minutes later MamasGirl says, very calmly, "Mommy?" I wake up, she's calm so I think she's going to tell me she's hungry or bored or something, "Yes, MamasGirl?" "There's a giant bug in here." I sit up, OMG, the thing DID follow me into the bedroom - why wasn't I more vigilant? I ask MamasGirl where the bug is and she points to the wall by her side of the bed and THERE IT IS. Sitting on the floor. I grab the broom from my side of the bed and start whacking over and over. I hit it at least 6 or 7 times. And it hops away behind a bedside table.

OK, now I'm thinking this thing has to be dying back there. It must be mangled. I've beat it more times than I can count. At least a few of the last times I pushed down on the broom really hard after each whack, trying to grind the thing into the floor. I'm convinced it's going to die behind the table and then I can drag out the carcass, throw it away and enjoy the rest of my vacation.

MamasGirl and I cuddle in the bed and start to talk and wait for Spice to wake up. And that's when the other thing comes out. The humongous moth that already landed on me once yesterday when I first went into the bedroom. Now I know that moths are harmless and I'm not completely afraid of it, I just don't want it touching me again. But with the giant bug in there too - it's just too much for such a small space. So I grab the brooom and go after the moth. It flies to the other side of the room, behind the curtains. I figure to hell with it and turn around, and there's giant bug on the floor on the other side of the bed. Then the moth flies back out and lands on my side of the curtain.

OK, so there I am at 7am on a Tuesday morning, standing in the middle of the bed in a tank top and underwear, a big, silver handled broom in my hand. Spice is asleep still and MamasGirl has thrown the blankets over both of them and is hiding there under me. On my left is a big, black moth almost the size of my hand, and on my right is something I have never seen before half the size of my foot. In a lifetime of having bug related nightmares I've never come up with anything as freaky as this.

I slam the broom into the moth and it drops dead. Spurred on by this victory I charge at the giant bug and whack it over and over. And the DAMN THING HOPS AWAY behind the bed.

That was it for me. I uncovered MamasGirl, picked up Spice and got out of there. I packed all our bags and groceries back up, got the girls dressed - with MamasGirl perched as the look out on top of a bunk bed to make sure the bug didn't come back out and I start taking everything outside.

The last thing is my laptop. Before I go I'm starting to feel a little braver. Mostly feeling ridiculous for letting a bug get the best of me. So I bravely decide to sit down and check email before I go. I'm really hoping Ros has written me back to say something that will make me feel like I can tackle this bug.

And she does. Her words are comforting. It's not a flesh eating bug, how bad could it be? And I start to think, yeah, it's probably harmless - just big and ugly. I look up, determined to bring everything back inside and get through this - and THERE IT IS - sauntering out of the bedroom and walking towards me. COME ON! Is it kidding me? I grab the broom and the towel, figuring if I can just get the towel thing right and trap it I can kill it. I throw the towel and miss and the thing starts hopping up and down against a wall and then lands and scurries under a bed. That's it! I've had it. I can take no more. I pack up my laptop and get the hell out.

I imagine the bug is sitting on the sofa, reading a book and laughing about how it managed to get the bungalow back for itself. How dare those silly humans believe they could disturb its vacation. I may never be able to set foot in this bungalow again.

So that's my adventure. And why city girls - or at least this city girl - don't belong in the country.

Just another addict

2006-07-27T12:33:00.000-04:00

I keep avoiding this blog. I know it's because I don't want to work on all these fat issues. So I posted once and then ignored it. Let's see if I can push myself a little harder than that.

So, I realized recently that I am a diet junky. I know for the past 10 years or so I've been petrified of dieting. I self-righteously denounce diets all the time and I do think my logic in doing so is right. But I knew it was more than just plain logic keeping me away from diets. And one day, sitting in the playground, talking with other mothers I realized what my fear of dieting is all about. I'm just another addict. Like alcoholics or people who get hooked on drugs. I take a diet and latch on to it and get high off it. Fortunately some defense mechanism buried deep inside my brain decided that had to stop.

I mean, just thinking about dieting gets me a little scared, but all tingly. That sensation of lying in bed, feeling my stomach growl and knowing that empty feeling means I'm losing weight is better than the buzz from a glass of wine.

So just like an alcoholic can't have even one drink, I think I can't go near anything that even looks a little like a diet. Not that I can't modify my eating, but I have to be careful with it because it's a slippery slope. One minute I'm telling myself that I just need to get out of the habit of eating something sweet every day and the next thing I turn around and I'm really believing that 5 olives is a fulfilling dinner.

Does that mean I'm doomed to be fat forever. Well, I hope not. I don't think so. I do believe that dieting is not the key to being thin. I recently read an email from a friend that said if any diet really worked all the others would go away. And that makes much sense to me. I don't think there's any ONE diet that has the answers - long term. I just have to find out what my non-dieting answer is.

The Fat Life

2006-01-31T10:53:00.000-05:00

My name is Julie and I'm fat. I've dealt with issues about my weight since I was a kid - maybe 10 or 11 years old - and I'm 42 now, so that's more than 30 years of weight issues. I have been every size from a 5 to an 18. Right now I'm somewhere between a 14 and a 16, though for some reason I enjoy wearing my beat-up falling off my hips, baggy 18s.

I've been on just about every diet anybody thought of between 1976 and 1993. I've been on the "Stewardess" diet, the "Cabbage Soup" diet, the "Fast and Cleanse" diet, the "Grapefruit" diet and everything in between. I've tried eliminating fats, carbs and sugar individually and in various combinations. And I have even done the diet of all diets, the one everyone says works, the one "sensible" one that no one dares to criticize - Weight Watchers! I've also taken the other, plain and simple approach to weight loss - eat less and exercise more. Right now I am not dieting and I don't plan to diet ever again - though I am sure my eating habits will change. The thing is, all those diets helped me lose weight to varying degrees. But none of them, not one, has helped me keep it off long term. I am resigning myself to the possibility that I may be fat for the rest of my life.

That doesn't mean I'm giving up. It does mean that I've accepted that dieting and exercise alone are not the answer for me. Because if I am compelled to not follow through on these things long term, then every time I do them I am setting myself up for ultimate failure. And everytime I lose weight and gain it back I end up a little fatter than I was before. So it's time for me to stop getting fatter by trying to get thinner. And time for me to start looking at all the reasons why I am fat and dealing with them one by one.

There's a lot of them I'm aware of and I'm sure a few I have no idea about - but that I will hopefully discover. Maybe if I deal with all these things, one day I will be able to shed the fat and keep it off. Or it might just take me the rest of my life to get through this and I'll be fat until the day I die. Either way, at least I'll know that I was making the effort to do something real rather than just playing into the external messages telling me to be thin at all costs that I've spent most of my life struggling with.

Any one who wants is welcome to come along for the journey. It'll all be documented here with pictures, articles and of course my thoughts. I have a lot to say about weight, beauty, food, eating habits, emotions, and all kinds of other stuff. This path is important to me, not only for my own well being, but because I have two daughters who will have to deal with weight and body image and I want to help them navigate all that much healthier and happier than I have.