Anyone else watching the premiere of The Office?
Did anyone else find the "love your body" scene awesome?
If Michael Scott had told me to eat when I was restricting, well ... I probably wouldn't have, but it would have been much-needed levity.
I'm also enjoying the parody of workplace "wellness programs."
And that was the best TV engagement ever.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Dilemma'd
In about 40 minutes, there will be an Eating Disorders Anonymous Meeting on the third floor of the student center. I'm sitting in the center's (admittedly awful) coffee shop, debating a) getting a latte and b)whether I should go and check it out.
Truth be told, I'm worried about how I'd react. My anorexia has a wide, messy competitive streak (think an eighth-grader's at-home highlights). Despite my progress of late, there's a part of me that still longs to be as thin as she is, to have the willpower she must have. Even if that person is very obviously sick - sicker than I ever was - there's that tiny voice that tells me to do better, to stop being so lazy, and don't you dare get that latte. Dr. M once said that with my tendencies, all I'd learn from a group therapy program would be how to be a really, really good anorexic. So confronting a room full of skinny people might be ... itchy.
On the other hand, I have made progress. I don't want to toot my own horn, but what if I could help somebody? If I get over my damn self and just tell my story, it might do somebody good. Tell them that it really can get better, it really is possible to have a semblance of what you had before. It'll never be quite the same - no experience of this magnitude can leave you unchanged. But the person you've become - you can make peace with that person. You can enjoy food again. It might be the damned hardest thing you've ever done, but you can.
I think I might be too chicken to go tonight (my shit-ton of work is another excuse). But I think I will get a latte.
Truth be told, I'm worried about how I'd react. My anorexia has a wide, messy competitive streak (think an eighth-grader's at-home highlights). Despite my progress of late, there's a part of me that still longs to be as thin as she is, to have the willpower she must have. Even if that person is very obviously sick - sicker than I ever was - there's that tiny voice that tells me to do better, to stop being so lazy, and don't you dare get that latte. Dr. M once said that with my tendencies, all I'd learn from a group therapy program would be how to be a really, really good anorexic. So confronting a room full of skinny people might be ... itchy.
On the other hand, I have made progress. I don't want to toot my own horn, but what if I could help somebody? If I get over my damn self and just tell my story, it might do somebody good. Tell them that it really can get better, it really is possible to have a semblance of what you had before. It'll never be quite the same - no experience of this magnitude can leave you unchanged. But the person you've become - you can make peace with that person. You can enjoy food again. It might be the damned hardest thing you've ever done, but you can.
I think I might be too chicken to go tonight (my shit-ton of work is another excuse). But I think I will get a latte.
Sweating the small stuff
I've written before about my Epidemiology professor. He's not the best lecturer, but I wasn't too frustrated with him.
Until today, when we were discussing different types of immunity. There are two main types, natural and acquired. Natural immunity is "passive" and short-lived, usually lasting for less than six months. The antibodies in breastmilk and the placenta that are passed from mother to offspring offer natural immunity. Acquired immunity comes from the body's' response to pathogens. Chicken pox immunity is one example. Additionally, active immunity can arise from incoluation - in this case, the exposure is intentional and therapuetic. Acquired immunity is long-term.
I wasn't arguing any of this. I wanted to know whether inheriting a relatively stronger immune system was passive or acquired immunity - you get it from your parents, but it's long-term. Like genetic resistance to malaria, I said. Epi Prof is from Nigeria and talks about native African's resistance to malaria pretty frequently. He also talks about his son, who has sickle-cell anemia. Since the two are related, I thought, surely he'll know what I'm talking about.
He looked at me like I was nuts. He said that malarial resistance is entirely due to environmental factors, like developing "thick skin" so mosquito bites couldn't penetrate. I knew that wasn't the whole story, but he wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise. It was so frustrating to be completely shut down like that. But then, he's from Nigeria; how could I possibly know more about malaria?
Well, I was right, not that any of this is particularly important (just frustrating as hell). Here, here, and here are sources backing me up.
Until today, when we were discussing different types of immunity. There are two main types, natural and acquired. Natural immunity is "passive" and short-lived, usually lasting for less than six months. The antibodies in breastmilk and the placenta that are passed from mother to offspring offer natural immunity. Acquired immunity comes from the body's' response to pathogens. Chicken pox immunity is one example. Additionally, active immunity can arise from incoluation - in this case, the exposure is intentional and therapuetic. Acquired immunity is long-term.
I wasn't arguing any of this. I wanted to know whether inheriting a relatively stronger immune system was passive or acquired immunity - you get it from your parents, but it's long-term. Like genetic resistance to malaria, I said. Epi Prof is from Nigeria and talks about native African's resistance to malaria pretty frequently. He also talks about his son, who has sickle-cell anemia. Since the two are related, I thought, surely he'll know what I'm talking about.
He looked at me like I was nuts. He said that malarial resistance is entirely due to environmental factors, like developing "thick skin" so mosquito bites couldn't penetrate. I knew that wasn't the whole story, but he wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise. It was so frustrating to be completely shut down like that. But then, he's from Nigeria; how could I possibly know more about malaria?
Well, I was right, not that any of this is particularly important (just frustrating as hell). Here, here, and here are sources backing me up.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Today ...
... is my birthday. But there are still other interesting things going on, too:
Administrative support jobs are the most dangerous for women?
I question whether it's really necessary to redesign the penny.
Don't think I'll be seeing this today. Or this.
Disaster Cleanup Watch: Cincinnati
The 2008 MacArthur Grants have been announced.
Twenty-two is an odd year. Am I officially a twentysomething now?
Administrative support jobs are the most dangerous for women?
I question whether it's really necessary to redesign the penny.
Don't think I'll be seeing this today. Or this.
Disaster Cleanup Watch: Cincinnati
The 2008 MacArthur Grants have been announced.
Twenty-two is an odd year. Am I officially a twentysomething now?
Monday, September 22, 2008
Normalcy
This weekend I ate ... normally. In that because I was starving after the wedding, I had seconds of the green beans (it helped that they were delicious) and two rolls. In that I, Lisa, recovering anorexic, ate wedding cake. I worked at Kroger - I know quite well the nutritional facts on buttercreme frosting. And I ate it anyway. At Jim's house, I devoured pomegranate salsa, chunky guacamole, pretzels, cheese and crackers. I didn't have the pizza they ordered, but that was mainly because I would have exploded. I even had a couple of toasted marshmallows and two Woodchuck Ciders. I wasn't Jim's Oddly Skinny Girlfriend Who Doesn't Eat - I was just Jim's Girlfriend, Lisa, who has a healthy appetite and laughs appropriately.
Writing down everything I ate makes me anxious, as it always does. It was a lot. But it's not out of the ordinary for a (very-soon-to-be) 22-year-old college student to eat more on the weekends than she does during the week. It's not out of the ordinary for her to exercise and eat healthfully most of the time and splurge once in a while. Concave stomachs and hollow cheeks, I've learned, are NOT normal.
I'm normal, or at least approaching it. And you know what? People still like me. I don't have to prove that I'm somehow superhuman and don't need to listen to and feed my body. I can have a belly and people will. Still. Like me.
But the question remains - will I like myself?
Writing down everything I ate makes me anxious, as it always does. It was a lot. But it's not out of the ordinary for a (very-soon-to-be) 22-year-old college student to eat more on the weekends than she does during the week. It's not out of the ordinary for her to exercise and eat healthfully most of the time and splurge once in a while. Concave stomachs and hollow cheeks, I've learned, are NOT normal.
I'm normal, or at least approaching it. And you know what? People still like me. I don't have to prove that I'm somehow superhuman and don't need to listen to and feed my body. I can have a belly and people will. Still. Like me.
But the question remains - will I like myself?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Tired
Thankfully my body-image issues let up before I got to Columbus on Friday (and mucho thanks for the encouragement, brave commentators). Jim is wonderful, as he tends to be. Eventually I'll put of pics of his presents, which are probably the nicest things I've ever received. Even I can be a sucker for sparkly things.
The wedding and reception were nice, but I had even more fun at the after-party. A bunch of Jim's aunts/uncles/cousins came to his parents' place Saturday evening (the wedding was in the afternoon) and we sat around and stuffed our faces and talked. I think - fingers crossed here - I think they like me. I didn't make a bad impression, at least.
... now I have to pay for a week of doing basically nothing. Ah well.
The wedding and reception were nice, but I had even more fun at the after-party. A bunch of Jim's aunts/uncles/cousins came to his parents' place Saturday evening (the wedding was in the afternoon) and we sat around and stuffed our faces and talked. I think - fingers crossed here - I think they like me. I didn't make a bad impression, at least.
... now I have to pay for a week of doing basically nothing. Ah well.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Oh dear
Today is not a good body-image day. It's one of those days when everything you put on accentuates every lump and jiggle; when you feel bloated and puffy, when you skip exercising and then feel guilty. The mirror is not my friend today, folks.
Tomorrow I'm going to Jim's cousin's wedding. I love my dress, but if tomorrow is like today I'm going to feel like a sausage encased in dark blue cotton. Icky.
Tomorrow I'm going to Jim's cousin's wedding. I love my dress, but if tomorrow is like today I'm going to feel like a sausage encased in dark blue cotton. Icky.
Read this
This week in Sociology of Inequality, we read Knockemstiff by Donald Ray Pollock. The title is the name of the Southeast Ohio town - a ghost town, really - in which the short-short stories take place. The author lived most of his life not far from there until starting at MFA program at the Ohio State University when he turned 40.
To call it "gritty" is an understatement. The second story slaps you with some brother-sister incest; drug use, domestic abuse, and sheer wracking poverty are close behind. There are events that are so bizarre that they have to be true - an alcoholic drinking from an ashtray when he forgets to bring a cup to the drive in, huffing Bactine, a woman who stashes fish sticks in her purse. Not light bedtime reading by any means, but solid, visceral writing about marginalization in Appalachia.
I felt almost ashamed at my periodic shock. The book is fiction, but the conditions exist. Knockemstiff is reality for so many people, and not just in Appalachia. There are sectors of American society that are profoundly disconnected from the relatively happy mainstream that most of us bloggers occupy. And they are much closer than you think. The book is difficult to get through, but certainly worth it.
To call it "gritty" is an understatement. The second story slaps you with some brother-sister incest; drug use, domestic abuse, and sheer wracking poverty are close behind. There are events that are so bizarre that they have to be true - an alcoholic drinking from an ashtray when he forgets to bring a cup to the drive in, huffing Bactine, a woman who stashes fish sticks in her purse. Not light bedtime reading by any means, but solid, visceral writing about marginalization in Appalachia.
I felt almost ashamed at my periodic shock. The book is fiction, but the conditions exist. Knockemstiff is reality for so many people, and not just in Appalachia. There are sectors of American society that are profoundly disconnected from the relatively happy mainstream that most of us bloggers occupy. And they are much closer than you think. The book is difficult to get through, but certainly worth it.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
You CAN wait, Miley
I've written (somewhat hysterically) about Miley Cyrus before, back when the infamous Vogue spread hit the airwaves. I realize that Hollywood is even more hysterical than I am and that this probably isn't true. However, if Miss Cyrus really is dating Justin Gaston, that is a problem. Even if this young man is attending church with Miley's family, there's still the matter of his being TWENTY YEARS OLD. DATING A FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD. Where I come from that will get you time in the pokey and a righteous ass-whupping. I find it odd that none of the articles mentioned this little legal hindrance.
This is a sticky issue - freedom to choose who to date/love/sleep with/tie up is important to me. However, adults are equipped mentally and emotionally to make decisions like that. If I'm any indication, fifteen-year-olds are idiots.
This is a sticky issue - freedom to choose who to date/love/sleep with/tie up is important to me. However, adults are equipped mentally and emotionally to make decisions like that. If I'm any indication, fifteen-year-olds are idiots.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Monday random
1. Today my Epidemiology prof actually did say "copulation." Two minutes later he said "calculation." I know the difference only through context clues.
2. Saturday my roomies and I had a "pink drinks" party, and I caved and bought a Cosmo magazine when I made the ingredients run. I was reading one of the "articles" which quoted a psychology professor. The next one quoted a sociologist. I'm just wondering - if you're a professional academic, what do you do when Cosmo calls? I understand that exchange between the "academic" and real worlds is important, but what if someone Googles you and finds that? What if someone on the tenure committee sees it?
2. Saturday my roomies and I had a "pink drinks" party, and I caved and bought a Cosmo magazine when I made the ingredients run. I was reading one of the "articles" which quoted a psychology professor. The next one quoted a sociologist. I'm just wondering - if you're a professional academic, what do you do when Cosmo calls? I understand that exchange between the "academic" and real worlds is important, but what if someone Googles you and finds that? What if someone on the tenure committee sees it?
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Until I Find Serenity
I accept a lot about other people. People are marvelously different, and while there are most definitely things I do not accept, on the whole I have an open mind. Or so I like to think.
For all that highfalutin talk, there are things about me that I have trouble accepting. Things about my own body, my person, my personality that are wrong, bad, simply not okay. I make efforts to change the things that make me unhappy, but at a certain point those efforts are more painful than their intended target. And then you have to accept less than perfection, less than unblemished happiness.
And so:
1. I do not have a very thin body type. Thanks to Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, etc. I can be thin, but it's not the way my genes have intended me to be. To be perfectly honest, I look better. As I've been gaining weight, I see this and I accept it. Starting now.
2. I am obsessive-compulsive. I worry and I can't stop. This isn't an admission of defeat - far from it. It's acceptance that this is a long-term problem that requires persistent effort. Fair? of course not, but that's how the cookie crumbles.
3. I have an eating disorder. It may be, as Laura says, "in remission," but it is still there and it is still a struggle. As with the OCD, I'm not giving up. But I am being easier on myself about it.
4. It sucks to be far away from someone you love. It's okay to be sad about it. It's even more okay to know that he misses you too, and to trust that you're tough enough to make it through the time apart. Additionally, being sad sometimes does not preclude being tough.
This is a short list. I'll think of other things later.
For all that highfalutin talk, there are things about me that I have trouble accepting. Things about my own body, my person, my personality that are wrong, bad, simply not okay. I make efforts to change the things that make me unhappy, but at a certain point those efforts are more painful than their intended target. And then you have to accept less than perfection, less than unblemished happiness.
And so:
1. I do not have a very thin body type. Thanks to Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, etc. I can be thin, but it's not the way my genes have intended me to be. To be perfectly honest, I look better. As I've been gaining weight, I see this and I accept it. Starting now.
2. I am obsessive-compulsive. I worry and I can't stop. This isn't an admission of defeat - far from it. It's acceptance that this is a long-term problem that requires persistent effort. Fair? of course not, but that's how the cookie crumbles.
3. I have an eating disorder. It may be, as Laura says, "in remission," but it is still there and it is still a struggle. As with the OCD, I'm not giving up. But I am being easier on myself about it.
4. It sucks to be far away from someone you love. It's okay to be sad about it. It's even more okay to know that he misses you too, and to trust that you're tough enough to make it through the time apart. Additionally, being sad sometimes does not preclude being tough.
This is a short list. I'll think of other things later.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
A conversation
Setting: anywhere
Cast of characters: Lisa, OCD Thought
Lisa begins to worry.
Lisa: That's an OCD thought. I need to distract myself so I don't dwell on it.
OCD Thought: Wait, what? How do you know I'm from your OCD? C'mon, you aren't exactly the most objective person to be judging this.
Lisa: Stoppit, I'm trying to label you.
OCD Thought: You can't label something if you don't know what it is.
Lisa: But I do. I know what you are.
OCD Thought: You can't be sure. I might be a legitimate worry. I might be important.
Lisa: No, you can't be. You're completely irrational, you don't make sense, and you have no basis in reality.
OCD Thought: Who are you calling irrational?
My eating disorder definitely had obsessive and compulsive elements, but it's been a long time since I had worries that were rooted solidly in my OCD. I forgot how fucking miserable they are.
Cast of characters: Lisa, OCD Thought
Lisa begins to worry.
Lisa: That's an OCD thought. I need to distract myself so I don't dwell on it.
OCD Thought: Wait, what? How do you know I'm from your OCD? C'mon, you aren't exactly the most objective person to be judging this.
Lisa: Stoppit, I'm trying to label you.
OCD Thought: You can't label something if you don't know what it is.
Lisa: But I do. I know what you are.
OCD Thought: You can't be sure. I might be a legitimate worry. I might be important.
Lisa: No, you can't be. You're completely irrational, you don't make sense, and you have no basis in reality.
OCD Thought: Who are you calling irrational?
My eating disorder definitely had obsessive and compulsive elements, but it's been a long time since I had worries that were rooted solidly in my OCD. I forgot how fucking miserable they are.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Drained
I must be getting old. Back in the day, I could handle six hours of class and homework. Today, though, I'm far more tired than I have the right to be. One of the classes was the introductory lecture, for pete's sake.
Notes from today:
1. I switched to another section of Epidemiology and now have no classes on Fridays. Hooray! That was also why I had six hours today - the other section is Monday-Wednesday; the one I had been in was Wednesday-Friday. I had to come back in the afternoon so I wouldn't be behind.
2. My Epidemiology prof is from Nigeria and doesn't strike me as the best lecturer. This morning we were treated to a long tale about the birth of his oldest daughter. The material should be interesting - provided we get through it.
3. In addition, every time he says "calculation" it sounds like "copulation."
4. Between Epidemiology and Class & Inequality, I'm going to spend a lot of this quarter feeling sad.
5. The Epidemiology prof appears to have a "stop eating junk food and start exercising" mindset about treating obesity. Also, he talked a lot about "spiritual health." On the plus side, he said "holistic" about seven times.
6. (Which has nothing to do with classes) I am hyper-aware of my stomach and I'm not comfortable with that.
Notes from today:
1. I switched to another section of Epidemiology and now have no classes on Fridays. Hooray! That was also why I had six hours today - the other section is Monday-Wednesday; the one I had been in was Wednesday-Friday. I had to come back in the afternoon so I wouldn't be behind.
2. My Epidemiology prof is from Nigeria and doesn't strike me as the best lecturer. This morning we were treated to a long tale about the birth of his oldest daughter. The material should be interesting - provided we get through it.
3. In addition, every time he says "calculation" it sounds like "copulation."
4. Between Epidemiology and Class & Inequality, I'm going to spend a lot of this quarter feeling sad.
5. The Epidemiology prof appears to have a "stop eating junk food and start exercising" mindset about treating obesity. Also, he talked a lot about "spiritual health." On the plus side, he said "holistic" about seven times.
6. (Which has nothing to do with classes) I am hyper-aware of my stomach and I'm not comfortable with that.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Dropping some eaves
Remember when I went to Forever 21 and hated it?
Well, something good came out of that.
Well, something good came out of that.
Monday, September 8, 2008
All is not well
The Fatosphere is undergoing a rough patch. It's difficult to tell when it started, but the "infighting" has gotten too much and some bloggers are taking themselves out. There are some nasty issues bubbling away here - racism, classism, ethnocentrism. The Fatosphere is a diverse, complicated place (a recent excellent post on Babble discussed this in more detail). The lesson: conflict is bound to happen - and it can be a very good thing. It can also be bad. Personal attacks, sniping, rudeness, etc are not productive.
So here's my plea - try to keep it together, y'all. You're all different; your political leanings, colors, and various allegiances are many. However, there is one thing, at the very least, that unites you: you want people to like their bodies, just as they are; you're tired of people telling you how you "should" be*. Whatever else you might enjoy, be it protesting large gatherings of Republicans or hunting or collecting Victorian-era etiquette books, is part of what makes you you. It's part of what makes the Fatosphere, ideally, a vibrant, interactive place.
That message - it's okay to like your body, even if it doesn't comply with arbitrary social standards - is an important one. It's helped me immensely, albeit unexpectedly. I can't imagine all the other people - yes, of varying colors/political parties/sexualities/genders - who have also heard something valuable in your voices.
I'm not asking your to stop expressing your opinions; far from it. Just be respectful of others' as well.
*I'm really killing my AP English teacher.
So here's my plea - try to keep it together, y'all. You're all different; your political leanings, colors, and various allegiances are many. However, there is one thing, at the very least, that unites you: you want people to like their bodies, just as they are; you're tired of people telling you how you "should" be*. Whatever else you might enjoy, be it protesting large gatherings of Republicans or hunting or collecting Victorian-era etiquette books, is part of what makes you you. It's part of what makes the Fatosphere, ideally, a vibrant, interactive place.
That message - it's okay to like your body, even if it doesn't comply with arbitrary social standards - is an important one. It's helped me immensely, albeit unexpectedly. I can't imagine all the other people - yes, of varying colors/political parties/sexualities/genders - who have also heard something valuable in your voices.
I'm not asking your to stop expressing your opinions; far from it. Just be respectful of others' as well.
*I'm really killing my AP English teacher.
Monday
First, a bigass happy-birthday to my younger sisters. You are now seventeen and I am more terrified than ever.
Second, this may be the quarter during which my eyes jump out of my head in protest. I have a lot of reading to do. I'm starting my thesis - it's on abstinence-based sex ed and the anthropology of the body - and, well, there are a lot of books with odd titles and small print in my room now. Which is already a mess after fewer than three days of residence.
On the other hand, I got up early and went to the gym. Kath Eats Real Food was right when she said a morning workout revs you up for the rest of the day. Also, my first impression of the Class and Inequality course (the five-book class) is a good one. Though it might be a sort of race-to-the-bottom scenario in which everyone competes for the title of "least privileged." However, the prof is not politically correct and I don't think she'll tolerate students being so. We'll be discussing the relationship/conflict of liberty and equality, which will give me plenty of things to bother Jim about.
Second, this may be the quarter during which my eyes jump out of my head in protest. I have a lot of reading to do. I'm starting my thesis - it's on abstinence-based sex ed and the anthropology of the body - and, well, there are a lot of books with odd titles and small print in my room now. Which is already a mess after fewer than three days of residence.
On the other hand, I got up early and went to the gym. Kath Eats Real Food was right when she said a morning workout revs you up for the rest of the day. Also, my first impression of the Class and Inequality course (the five-book class) is a good one. Though it might be a sort of race-to-the-bottom scenario in which everyone competes for the title of "least privileged." However, the prof is not politically correct and I don't think she'll tolerate students being so. We'll be discussing the relationship/conflict of liberty and equality, which will give me plenty of things to bother Jim about.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Dammit
During the whirlwind that was May and June, I received some documents from the person whose job I'm taking over. I kept those items in a file folder on the very computer I'm using to write this post.
And the file is gone. Or something - when I clicked on it, it said the folder had been moved and was actually linked to another folder (?). Those docs are just gone. So I've managed to drop the ball before my job even officially begins. Go me.
Okay. I can look at this one of two ways. In the first, I'm a horrible irresponsible degenerate who doesn't even deserve her $7/hour job. I'll have to spend the rest of the quarter bowing and scraping or kissing ass to make up for the loss of the files.
Alternatively, I'm someone who doesn't entirely understand what happened to her computer while it was sitting idle over the summer. I did what I thought was necessary to securely save the files, and somehow it didn't work. This is something that happens to everyone. With any luck, those were not the only copies of the files and we won't be sunk. I'll apologize and move on.
I'm going to try to go with scenario #2. Because, dammit, I'm going to have an okay senior year.
And the file is gone. Or something - when I clicked on it, it said the folder had been moved and was actually linked to another folder (?). Those docs are just gone. So I've managed to drop the ball before my job even officially begins. Go me.
Okay. I can look at this one of two ways. In the first, I'm a horrible irresponsible degenerate who doesn't even deserve her $7/hour job. I'll have to spend the rest of the quarter bowing and scraping or kissing ass to make up for the loss of the files.
Alternatively, I'm someone who doesn't entirely understand what happened to her computer while it was sitting idle over the summer. I did what I thought was necessary to securely save the files, and somehow it didn't work. This is something that happens to everyone. With any luck, those were not the only copies of the files and we won't be sunk. I'll apologize and move on.
I'm going to try to go with scenario #2. Because, dammit, I'm going to have an okay senior year.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
More omnivore
For those of you who read my Omnivore's 100 post a while back, here's an illustrated version from FoodProof. Do you see now why I was horrified by headcheese?
Friday, September 5, 2008
At the objectification Olympics
Axe Detailer Commercial
I'm not sure where to begin with this one. Men are mindless hunks of metal without the capacity to bathe? Women are equally mindless bots whose purpose is to do the bathing of which men are incapable?* And WTF to the "Blow Dry" bit? I know if I were a member of Axe's target demographic, I'd be a little insulted. As a woman, I'm offended, but I can also laugh at how ridiculous it is.
*Somewhere, my AP English teacher feels a sudden chill.
I'm not sure where to begin with this one. Men are mindless hunks of metal without the capacity to bathe? Women are equally mindless bots whose purpose is to do the bathing of which men are incapable?* And WTF to the "Blow Dry" bit? I know if I were a member of Axe's target demographic, I'd be a little insulted. As a woman, I'm offended, but I can also laugh at how ridiculous it is.
*Somewhere, my AP English teacher feels a sudden chill.
Note to self
Yep, you ate a lot last weekend. And you figured the worrying would hit you right about now. Stop pinching your stomach and remember how GOOD it all was. You tried Thai food and had a mango daiquiri with it. Jim cooked his amazing flatiron steak. His roommate and his roommate's girlfriend grilled chicken and onions and veggies for you, and they bought mochi for you to try. Oh, and then there was the brunch with UNLIMITED MIMOSAS. And stir-fry and oatmeal, your comfort foods. You enjoyed it while you were in D.C. It did not suddenly become poisonous when you returned to Ohio.
What's more important is the company you had while you ate. You got to eat with people who you genuinely like and care for, and who genuinely like and care for you, too. Your boyfriend cooked for you. So stop neurosing (it's annoying) and remember how wonderful it is to combine good food and friends.
What's more important is the company you had while you ate. You got to eat with people who you genuinely like and care for, and who genuinely like and care for you, too. Your boyfriend cooked for you. So stop neurosing (it's annoying) and remember how wonderful it is to combine good food and friends.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Very cool thing
Another dicking-around-the-interwebs discovery: Roundshape links to this amazing slideshow on Shapely Prose that matches pictures to BMI numbers. Interesting and thought-provoking.
EDIT: My sister Kathy watched the slideshow and informed me that she is "overweight." You can see a picture of her a few posts down. She's an amazing volleyball player and happens to kick ass. One of her spikes sent an opponent to the hospital.
EDIT: My sister Kathy watched the slideshow and informed me that she is "overweight." You can see a picture of her a few posts down. She's an amazing volleyball player and happens to kick ass. One of her spikes sent an opponent to the hospital.
Irony
One of my fall quarter classes requires 5 textbooks.
Had I bought them all at list price, they would have cost me $153.56. Buying them used on Amazon Marketplace set me back $106.45.
The class, Sociology 331, is called Class and Inequality.
Object lesson learned.
Had I bought them all at list price, they would have cost me $153.56. Buying them used on Amazon Marketplace set me back $106.45.
The class, Sociology 331, is called Class and Inequality.
Object lesson learned.
Thursday News
Time just put out an article about why disasters seem to be getting so much worse. It's not climate change, it's our increased vulnerability - we're living in areas that are inherently more dangerous. I've met Kathleen Tierney, who's quoted in the article. She's ... well, she's crazy. But smart.
The Drexel theater in Columbus is closing.
Sometimes, people do things that are just stupid. Like attempt to skydive over Mt. Everest.
Sometimes I agree with Walter Williams, sometimes I don't. I agree with him here.
Apparently Cincinnatians don't agree with me on the Bodies exhibit - over 300,000 of them have attended.
The Drexel theater in Columbus is closing.
Sometimes, people do things that are just stupid. Like attempt to skydive over Mt. Everest.
Sometimes I agree with Walter Williams, sometimes I don't. I agree with him here.
Apparently Cincinnatians don't agree with me on the Bodies exhibit - over 300,000 of them have attended.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
I don't shop at Victoria's Secret
During a recent foray into my younger sisters' room, I discovered that they have cuter bras than I do.
So I did this.
I'm such a good example.
However, you can see in these pictures that my own bra is neon green and also pretty cute.
Best picture ever, even with cursed eyeglasses glare. From left, Kathy, Sarah, moi, Christie.
So I did this.
I'm such a good example.
However, you can see in these pictures that my own bra is neon green and also pretty cute.
Best picture ever, even with cursed eyeglasses glare. From left, Kathy, Sarah, moi, Christie. Monday, September 1, 2008
Five days
My visit to D.C. has become more of an actual vacation than a long weekend. I got here Thursday evening and I'm heading back to Ohio tomorrow morning. Seeing Jim has been so good. Call us boring, but there's nothing better than sleeping til noon, eating a pot of oatmeal, then goofing off for the rest of the day - YouTube videos, The Office on DVD, Scrabble battles - followed by a night out with friends (I'm broke, but I figure I won't be doing this again for a while). I'm a long way from being a buxom Irish lass, but I think Woodchuck cider and Thai eggplant are going to get me there.
Classes start entirely too soon.
Classes start entirely too soon.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Sunday
Big-time disaster watch, people: Gustav kicked the crap out of Cuba and is now heading for the Gulf. I guess it doesn't like being called Katrina's little brother.
And about that "mandatory evacuation," Mayor Nagin, what are you going to do about the people who can't afford to leave?
All right, this is getting Biblical: massive floods in India and yet another quake in China.
Neat: WHO's Commission on the Social Determinants of Health.
That was depressing.
And about that "mandatory evacuation," Mayor Nagin, what are you going to do about the people who can't afford to leave?
All right, this is getting Biblical: massive floods in India and yet another quake in China.
Neat: WHO's Commission on the Social Determinants of Health.
That was depressing.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
A conundrum
This summer I've been reading blogs by people who, like me, have issues with food. Too little of it, too much of it, and some who are just damn tired of being told what their bodies "should" be. It's interesting as hell from an anthropology standpoint, but on a personal level the FA/Size Acceptance/Health At Every Size blogosphere (aka the Fatosphere) has been incredibly helpful. Writers offer a critical perspective on media, health communication, and social pressures to adhere to an arbitrary ideal. They focus on what their bodies do, not how they appear. It's refreshing.
When I was at my thinnest, I realized that once your body is a few ticks to either side of the bell curve, it becomes public property. I got stares, frowns, rude questions, comments. But my life was peaches compared to what people at the other end have to face. Read this post and comments at Shapely Prose if you don't believe me.
Sometimes a FA/SA/HAES writer will describe a situation with which I can identify. For example, one writer posted about the blood-pressure cuff not fitting during a recent ER trip. Once my own BP was so low that the nurse thought I was septic - until she realized the cuff was too big and retrieved the children's cuff. I felt REAL cool, lemme tell you.
My cuff didn't "fly off" as did the other blogger's, which is way more difficult to deal with. I was going to comment about the indignity that sometimes accompanies one-size-fits-all medical equipment - but I didn't. I was afraid the writer would be insulted. How could I, skinny in a society that worships thin, possibly understand how she felt? From a social standpoint, our experiences were different.
So here's my question - is the Size Acceptance community going to accept me? People make comments about my body; they assume I'm a "skinny bitch." Am I just fooling myself that a recovering anorexic could ever empathize with a fat person?
When I was at my thinnest, I realized that once your body is a few ticks to either side of the bell curve, it becomes public property. I got stares, frowns, rude questions, comments. But my life was peaches compared to what people at the other end have to face. Read this post and comments at Shapely Prose if you don't believe me.
Sometimes a FA/SA/HAES writer will describe a situation with which I can identify. For example, one writer posted about the blood-pressure cuff not fitting during a recent ER trip. Once my own BP was so low that the nurse thought I was septic - until she realized the cuff was too big and retrieved the children's cuff. I felt REAL cool, lemme tell you.
My cuff didn't "fly off" as did the other blogger's, which is way more difficult to deal with. I was going to comment about the indignity that sometimes accompanies one-size-fits-all medical equipment - but I didn't. I was afraid the writer would be insulted. How could I, skinny in a society that worships thin, possibly understand how she felt? From a social standpoint, our experiences were different.
So here's my question - is the Size Acceptance community going to accept me? People make comments about my body; they assume I'm a "skinny bitch." Am I just fooling myself that a recovering anorexic could ever empathize with a fat person?
Whew
I got up the gumption to go weigh myself. And ... I'm okay. It was about what I'd expected. My fragile self-image is safe for the time being. If only I could come to terms with my stomach. I gain weight there first - in fact, a lot of recovering anorexics do* - so I have a bony back an a flabby midsection. Not lovely, but it's temporary. I think.
*The first author of that study is "M. Zamboni." Coolest surname ever.
*The first author of that study is "M. Zamboni." Coolest surname ever.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
The VGT Omnivore's 100
I was dicking around the Internet (as I am wont to do) and came across Very Good Taste’s Omnivore’s One Hundred (I first found it on this site). It’s an admittedly arbitrary list of foods that a “good omnivore” should taste at least once in her life.
The instructions:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) My additional step: put an asterisk by ones you want to try.
What’s fun is the memories that arise as you go over the list. And you learn a lot.
1. Venison – tastes like corned beef
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare -
5. *Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue – I can’t help but feel that fondues are inevitably dangerous. Either you’re all going to get each other’s infections, or someone’s going to get burned by molten cheese.
8. Carp
9.* Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari – I’ve only had it once, and at an excellent restaurant. I doubt it’s as good at Olive Garden or someplace like that.
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich – I’ve definitely had more than my share of these.
14. *Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart – Never eaten one, but I love the way hotdog carts smell when I go downtown.
16. Epoisses – I had to Wikipedia this. It’s unpasteurized cheese from France.
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes – not yet, but I’ve got a bottle of cranberry wine in the pantry.19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries – I ate a wild strawberry and got scolded for it.
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese – I used to work at a deli. When I saw this stuff for the first time, I turned to my co-worker and asked, horrified, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” It provided much amusement.26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters – On a cracker with hot sauce. It tasted like a cracker with hot sauce, so not too bad.
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda – Had to look this up, too. It’s a hot dip from Italy made with garlic, anchovies, olive oil, and red wine vinegar.
31. Wasabi peas – These will put you in intimate touch with your sinuses.
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl – I’ve had both of these, but not at the same time. I’m counting it anyway.
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar – Jim loves the stuff; to me it’s a little cough-syrupy.
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O – I’m guessing this is a Jell-O shot.
39. Gumbo – A family friend makes this every so often for food competitions. It’s amazing.
40. *Oxtail
41. *Curried goat
42. Whole insects – I ate a cricket for a school assignment. I was trying to convince people that world hunger could be eliminated if we started eating insects on a large scale. It tasted like nutty hamburger.
43. Phaal – This is a hot-ass curry dish.
44. Goat’s milk – does goat cheese count?
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. *Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut – This was another life, people.
50. Sea urchin
51. *Prickly pear – I had a chance to have these and went for a salad instead. Dang eating disorder.52. Umeboshi – sour, salty, pickled fruit from Japan. Based on that description, I’m striking them out.
53. Abalone
54. *Paneer55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle57. Dirty gin martini - I hate olives.
58. Beer above 8% ABV – woohoo fruit lambics!
59. Poutine – this dish consists of French fries topped with gravy and cheese curds, and yes, I have tried it. It was DISGUSTING, and not just because it is an ultimate fear food.
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads – tried Jim’s. Actually pretty good, though the texture was a bit odd.63. Kaolin – no desire to eat clay.
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. *Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake – Beignets – oh my god, beignets. Like an orgasm of fluffy, melt-in-your mouth dough.
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho – I’d rather have salsa
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost – Norwegian whey cheese.75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu – clear beverage distilled from sorghum or rice. It’s about 40-60% ABV. Jim should know about this. 77. Hostess Fruit Pie – there are some fear foods I’m okay with avoiding.
78. *Snail
79. Lapsang souchong – Smoky-tasting black tea.
80. *Bellini – cocktail made with sparkling wine and peach puree. I think I need to try this.
81. Tom yum – tasty-sounding spicy Thai soup made with prawns, mushrooms, chili peppers, and lemongrass
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef86. Hare
87. *Goulash
88. Flowers89. Horse – fuck no, I love horses. Plus I’ve read accounts saying that it’s really disgusting.
90. Criollo chocolate – rare and expensive type of chocolate made from a specific species of bean.91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. *Rose harissa – spicy chili pepper sauce from North Africa.
94. Catfish
95. *Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox – I’ve had both, but not at the same time.
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. *Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake
Friday, August 22, 2008
Bodies
California recently passed legislation that would ban the controversial BODIES ... The Exhibition from being presented in the state. A version of this exhibit is currently on display at the (otherwise wonderful) Cincinnati Museum Center. I've refrained from attending (here and in Columbus) for the same reasons that California lawmakers have decided to say hell with it: the exhibition's company, Premier, doesn't have proof that every body was obtained with the informed consent of the deceased person or next of kin.
In an interview for 20/20 in February, former Premier Chairman Arnie Geller, who resigned following the report, told ABC News he was appalled at the allegations that some of the bodies from his Chinese suppliers might be those of executed prisoners.
He said his own medical staff had seen no such evidence and that his suppliers have assured him that "these are all legitimate, unclaimed bodies that have gone through Dalian Medical University."
That they might be political prisoners is important, but it's not even my main concern. That these were "unclaimed" bodies indicates to me that a) they were indigents or b) their relatives were unable to pay for funeral expenses and chose not to claim them. If either case is true, then these individuals occupied the extreme lower end of the socioeconomic scale. Is it somehow okay to use their bodies this way? Absolutely not - there's no way of knowing what their wishes would have been. Absence of refusal does not signify consent. Furthermore, it seems to me that the unnamed "suppliers" are taking advantage of a relatively powerless population.
If done correctly, these exhibits are a valuable educational resource. However, displays should be limited to the bodies of informed, consenting adults.
The wall
I've hit it. I went for two weeks feeling good about my body, exercising, enjoying food, and then I got up from the table after lunch and was just disgusted with myself. Look how much I ate! Look at that person - she only ate soup. You ate a GIANT turkey-feta-spinach-cranberry salad and TWO ROLLS. With NON-LOW-FAT dressing. Oh my god you are a tub.
This line of thinking continued for ... about four hours. I'm doing better now, and I'm really going to try hard not to restrict my eating. What's worse is that today's lunch was with a wonderful friend of my mother's, someone I haven't seen since I graduated to pullups. An otherwise lovely meal was shadowed by fear and anger every time I took a bite.
I will feel better about this by the time I go to D.C. next weekend. I will, dammit.
This line of thinking continued for ... about four hours. I'm doing better now, and I'm really going to try hard not to restrict my eating. What's worse is that today's lunch was with a wonderful friend of my mother's, someone I haven't seen since I graduated to pullups. An otherwise lovely meal was shadowed by fear and anger every time I took a bite.
I will feel better about this by the time I go to D.C. next weekend. I will, dammit.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Reading is sexy
My sister recently had to purchase A Streetcar Named Desire. This is what her copy looks like:
Jeepers, beefcake much?
This got me wondering if other newer editions of the summer-reading standbys are promising titillation they don't deliver.
Here's Wuthering Heights:
Hit that, Heathcliff!
Pride and Prejudice:
This isn't really misleading, but I have a problem with putting movie stars on book covers.
Another iteration:
Jane Eyre:
David Copperfield:
Not really about a magician.
The Awakening:
She doesn't get naked until the end, and it's not at all what you think.
The Red Pony:
Oh, how cute! Or, you know, brutal and tragic. I read this in the third grade and was definitely unprepared.
Lolita:
Well, okay, this one does deliver.
I mean, really, what's next - the Bible?
Oh, wait.
This one's for guys ...
This one's for girls:
And this one's for the surfer in all of us:
Jeepers, beefcake much?
This got me wondering if other newer editions of the summer-reading standbys are promising titillation they don't deliver.
Here's Wuthering Heights:
Hit that, Heathcliff!
Pride and Prejudice:
This isn't really misleading, but I have a problem with putting movie stars on book covers.
Another iteration:
Jane Eyre:
David Copperfield:
Not really about a magician.
The Awakening:
She doesn't get naked until the end, and it's not at all what you think.
The Red Pony:
Oh, how cute! Or, you know, brutal and tragic. I read this in the third grade and was definitely unprepared.
Lolita:
Well, okay, this one does deliver.
I mean, really, what's next - the Bible?
Oh, wait.
This one's for guys ...
This one's for girls:
And this one's for the surfer in all of us:
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Bobble
I haven't weighed myself in over a week. At this point, I'm a little afraid to. My body is changing - I can feel differences. I have more muscle, especially in my legs. But I also have a little more ... give, I guess you would say. I can grip skin where I couldn't before. Lately I've been unconsciously rubbing my stomach, like I'm anticipating its eventual expansion.
Oh, the vagaries of body image. Do I even look thin anymore? I don't think so - not unnaturally so, at least. And as much as I hated the concerned or sidelong looks, the very sickest part of me took those as vindication, as reassurance. All my efforts were paying off! And now that I'm getting better, that sick part - it's smaller now, but it's definitely still there - doesn't want to see that go to waste.
There's always that tug-of-war. I like the things that are happening to my body. At least the rational part of me does. But there's still that piece of me that looks in the mirror and sees something revolting and out of control.
Oh, the vagaries of body image. Do I even look thin anymore? I don't think so - not unnaturally so, at least. And as much as I hated the concerned or sidelong looks, the very sickest part of me took those as vindication, as reassurance. All my efforts were paying off! And now that I'm getting better, that sick part - it's smaller now, but it's definitely still there - doesn't want to see that go to waste.
There's always that tug-of-war. I like the things that are happening to my body. At least the rational part of me does. But there's still that piece of me that looks in the mirror and sees something revolting and out of control.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Abuse of evolution
This article in the Washington Post discusses several studies on the different investing behaviors of men and women. Overall, women are more risk-averse, choosing to keep more of their wealth in more secure assets. Men also tend to trade more frequently, sometimes to the point of "overtrading." In the long run, that can actually lead to lower returns.
All of this is very interesting, but the reasons why these gender differences exist is far more exciting to me. There are several conjectures, but the one that grated especially hard was the one from Emily Chiang, an investment advisor, who thinks that "evolutionary psychology" is responsible for the gap:
Okay, people. While the "man hunt, woman gather/cook/take care of babies" concept dominates high-school science textbooks, evolutionary science can't make definitive statements about early human division of labor. Fossil evidence is interpreted through the lens of modern society - today's standards are unwittingly applied to the past. Ethnographic analogues - modern-day hunter-gatherers - are practically nonexistent; but research done in the 50s and 60s suggests that a) division of labor varies between societies and b) in some cases, men and women shared many "gendered" tasks.
Relying on "caveman" stereotypes sells modern humans short. We're far more complicated than that.
All of this is very interesting, but the reasons why these gender differences exist is far more exciting to me. There are several conjectures, but the one that grated especially hard was the one from Emily Chiang, an investment advisor, who thinks that "evolutionary psychology" is responsible for the gap:
"Men are hunters, she said. "Women are more like gatherers."
Okay, people. While the "man hunt, woman gather/cook/take care of babies" concept dominates high-school science textbooks, evolutionary science can't make definitive statements about early human division of labor. Fossil evidence is interpreted through the lens of modern society - today's standards are unwittingly applied to the past. Ethnographic analogues - modern-day hunter-gatherers - are practically nonexistent; but research done in the 50s and 60s suggests that a) division of labor varies between societies and b) in some cases, men and women shared many "gendered" tasks.
Relying on "caveman" stereotypes sells modern humans short. We're far more complicated than that.
Teach a kid to garden ...
Last week I wrote about a borderline offensive ad on childhood obesity and the group that created it. I want to emphasize that the Center for Closing the Health Gap is actually a great organization. Today's Cincinnati Enquirer ran an article about the Center's Do Right! Campaign. The group got kids involved in planting a garden in a vacant spot near the YMCA. The article described Harvest Day, when the kids finally got to pick the veggies they'd planted and nurtured. They were understandably proud of their produce.
Gardening projects like this are a great idea. Kids can learn so much from growing a garden - botany, biology, meteorology. It's stealth teaching. Gardens aren't like a puppy, but there's still responsibility involved (witness the wilted, neglected flowerbeds of my childhood). Teamwork comes in handy. And if kids grow their own carrots and zucchini, they'll be more likely to eat them.
Unfortunately, these programs are hard to sustain. As energetic as they are, there are some gardening tasks that kids can't (and shouldn't) do. Finding a suitable and safe spot isn't easy, and supplies can be expensive. A good idea might be to match gardeners - maybe retirees with some extra time - with a YMCA or day-camp program. That doesn't address the money issue, though. I doubt gardens of this size would produce enough surplus to sell.
Gardening projects like this are a great idea. Kids can learn so much from growing a garden - botany, biology, meteorology. It's stealth teaching. Gardens aren't like a puppy, but there's still responsibility involved (witness the wilted, neglected flowerbeds of my childhood). Teamwork comes in handy. And if kids grow their own carrots and zucchini, they'll be more likely to eat them.
Unfortunately, these programs are hard to sustain. As energetic as they are, there are some gardening tasks that kids can't (and shouldn't) do. Finding a suitable and safe spot isn't easy, and supplies can be expensive. A good idea might be to match gardeners - maybe retirees with some extra time - with a YMCA or day-camp program. That doesn't address the money issue, though. I doubt gardens of this size would produce enough surplus to sell.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Saturday news
Disaster watch: Tropical Storm Fay is headed for Haiti. This is going to be ugly.
Teachers in a small Texas district are now permitted to carry guns in the classroom. Those kids are going to be on their best behavior, I imagine.
In Casselberry, Florida, a group of women ran for office and started a "revitalization" project - by kicking out all the strippers. Girl on girl politics?
So I wasn't scrimping all those other years?
I would not want to be Manhattan's emergency manager, especially during a tornado warning.
It's one thing to poison pigeons in the park; it's another to paint them purple (note to PETA - shut up).
Teachers in a small Texas district are now permitted to carry guns in the classroom. Those kids are going to be on their best behavior, I imagine.
In Casselberry, Florida, a group of women ran for office and started a "revitalization" project - by kicking out all the strippers. Girl on girl politics?
So I wasn't scrimping all those other years?
I would not want to be Manhattan's emergency manager, especially during a tornado warning.
It's one thing to poison pigeons in the park; it's another to paint them purple (note to PETA - shut up).
Friday, August 15, 2008
I was doing so well
And then today. I tagged along to my sisters' doctor appointments so I could go shopping (combining trips y'know). And they took forever. I was so hungry that other people in the waiting room were looking at me when my stomach growled. Surely the Recovering Anorexic can handle a little hunger, right? That's the thing - I couldn't. You used to be so good at this! Control yourself. I thought. Not healthy. I had a granola bar with me, but if I couldn't eat that and lunch- too many calories! The inevitable crankiness that comes from hunger didn't help my mental state, either. I think my mother wanted to swat me - I would have deserved it.
So we finally ate lunch (mall food court - thank God for Chik-fil-a) and commenced shopping. Note - Forever 21 does have great bargains, yes. But the store has no perceivable layout. It's like all the closets in OU's sorority houses threw up in a giant white room. And then there are the clothes - more notably, the sizes. Unless you actually want to look like you were Saran-wrapped into your outfit, you're going to need a large. And good luck finding those - a salesperson told me "we only get like one or two larges" with every shipment. Trying on such body-conscious clothes ... makes you body-conscious. Every bulge, every lump was screamingly obvious.
Most of the clothes are crap anyway. I don't have to try that hard to be ugly.
So we finally ate lunch (mall food court - thank God for Chik-fil-a) and commenced shopping. Note - Forever 21 does have great bargains, yes. But the store has no perceivable layout. It's like all the closets in OU's sorority houses threw up in a giant white room. And then there are the clothes - more notably, the sizes. Unless you actually want to look like you were Saran-wrapped into your outfit, you're going to need a large. And good luck finding those - a salesperson told me "we only get like one or two larges" with every shipment. Trying on such body-conscious clothes ... makes you body-conscious. Every bulge, every lump was screamingly obvious.
Most of the clothes are crap anyway. I don't have to try that hard to be ugly.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Things that are awesome
1. After literally years of research and analysis, The Boy - henceforth known by his true name, Jim - and his co-workers at the Center for College Affordability and Productivity have had their alternative college rankings report published on Forbes.com. Frankly, it kicks ass.
2. After my diagnosis, I saw the excellent nutritionist Jennie Wade, MEd, RD, LD. Now she and Amy Bellamah-Daniel, RD, RN, LD have started the Body Truth Center in the Cincinnati area. It's an "intensive outpatient program" designed around the idea that recovery is a process - it's going to take a while, and you need to go on living while you work on it. The ten-week program costs $600/week, but they'll work with you and/or your insurance provider. I'm really glad to see her doing this.
Article at the Cincinnati Enquirer
2. After my diagnosis, I saw the excellent nutritionist Jennie Wade, MEd, RD, LD. Now she and Amy Bellamah-Daniel, RD, RN, LD have started the Body Truth Center in the Cincinnati area. It's an "intensive outpatient program" designed around the idea that recovery is a process - it's going to take a while, and you need to go on living while you work on it. The ten-week program costs $600/week, but they'll work with you and/or your insurance provider. I'm really glad to see her doing this.
Article at the Cincinnati Enquirer
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Sugar and spice
In a past life - okay, in high school - I worked in the deli/bakery at Kroger. I started out in the bakery, where I actually was pretty good at decorating cakes. In fact, I learned how to make frosting roses so fast I earned the title of "prodigy." We technically couldn't do anything freehand, but I fudged the rules on occasion.
It is with great excitement, then, that I share this link with you: Cake Wrecks.
Oh yes. Yes.
It is with great excitement, then, that I share this link with you: Cake Wrecks.
Oh yes. Yes.
From the archives, part III
From a journal entry dated November 28, 2005:
I weigh 103 pounds. I know that's not enough and I know I have to gain weight. But now I have to drink these fucking Ensures that have 360 goddamn fucking calories - one every day in addition to what I've already eaten. Mom wants to lock me up. I can't exercise. I'm not "allowed" to have a salad. I'm going to get so fucking fat, oh my god ... And now, Mom's going to make tacos - I usually put beans and salsa on lettuce, but we conveniently don't have any salad greens even though I've been telling her to let me know when she wants to make tacos, so I'll be able to get a bagged salad at work. Nice. She's just trying to sneak around me*. She knows I won't say no, because then she'll just say, "well, you aren't even trying, you need to be in a program." Like fuck I'm not trying. Goddamn. I swear, if she tries to make me drink an Ensure tonight, I going to flip out. I can only do so much in one day. It's so hard not to hate everyone. Happy fucking holidays. Welcome the fuck home.
*My mother is a wonderful person who was understandably terrified by her Incredible Shrinking Daughter. Our relationship survived anorexia, which I know is pretty lucky.
I weigh 103 pounds. I know that's not enough and I know I have to gain weight. But now I have to drink these fucking Ensures that have 360 goddamn fucking calories - one every day in addition to what I've already eaten. Mom wants to lock me up. I can't exercise. I'm not "allowed" to have a salad. I'm going to get so fucking fat, oh my god ... And now, Mom's going to make tacos - I usually put beans and salsa on lettuce, but we conveniently don't have any salad greens even though I've been telling her to let me know when she wants to make tacos, so I'll be able to get a bagged salad at work. Nice. She's just trying to sneak around me*. She knows I won't say no, because then she'll just say, "well, you aren't even trying, you need to be in a program." Like fuck I'm not trying. Goddamn. I swear, if she tries to make me drink an Ensure tonight, I going to flip out. I can only do so much in one day. It's so hard not to hate everyone. Happy fucking holidays. Welcome the fuck home.
*My mother is a wonderful person who was understandably terrified by her Incredible Shrinking Daughter. Our relationship survived anorexia, which I know is pretty lucky.
From the archives, part II
From a journal entry dated October 7, 2005 (I'd been in college for about a month):
I don't know what to do. I weigh 106 pounds - close to the lowest I've ever been. I'm so bony that I can't sit in an unpadded chair for more than 20 minutes. I have no energy. I feel fuzzy - I space out a lot. I feel like I can't hold a conversation. Things don't seem as funny as they used to. I'm worrying Mom and I'm starting to scare myself. Every time I think about it, I just feel like it's too much trouble; I don't want to deal with it. I don't know what to do.
*Note to self - your mind and body work better when you feed them.
I don't know what to do. I weigh 106 pounds - close to the lowest I've ever been. I'm so bony that I can't sit in an unpadded chair for more than 20 minutes. I have no energy. I feel fuzzy - I space out a lot. I feel like I can't hold a conversation. Things don't seem as funny as they used to. I'm worrying Mom and I'm starting to scare myself. Every time I think about it, I just feel like it's too much trouble; I don't want to deal with it. I don't know what to do.
*Note to self - your mind and body work better when you feed them.
From the archives
The following is from a journal entry dated June 19, 2005:
... the thought of gaining weight scares me. Food scares me - french fries, pastries, cakes, cookies. Sometimes I know this is irrational, but other times I can't even consider any other way - I can't eat that cookie; I can't have that slice of pizza, because it'll be the beginning. That one little donut hole will be the first thing, then something else, then something else, and all my good habits will go out the window and I'll be back at 145, flabby and unhappy.
I was trying to figure out where it started ... I guess a few things happened at once. I started feeling flabby, and then people started talking seriously about going to college - and how the "freshman 15" was a real possibility, how you'd gain more like 20 pounds. If I looked and felt that bad at 145, how would I feel at 160? 165? How would I look? How would I be able to afford new clothes? After that, I started looking around at other people, especially at work (note - I was working in a deli/bakery at the time). If I didn't change something, it was only a matter of time before I was one of the people in the scooters, so obese that I can't shower or wash my hair. It scared me shitless (note - I can't believe I once wrote that. I'm actually ashamed).
I weigh 110, 112 pounds. My shoulders are bony. My hips jut out. You can see my vertebrae and some of my ribs. I have cheekbones for the first time in my life, and my double chin is mostly gone. So are my tits and ass, incidentally. And I'm terrified, absolutely terrified, of gaining weight.
The irrational part of me thinks this is fantastic. I looked so good at prom, so good and graduation. It's good that I can cope with the hunger ... I'm sabotaging myself. When Mom was making me eat a serving of almonds a day, I'd figure out a place to throw them away. At work, I chew gum to keep from eating the stuff we have lying around. I eat fruit, veggies, low-c al breads, salads, oatmeal, grilled chicken, tuna. No rice, no potatoes, no pasta. No tacos, no chili, no pizza. No cakes, no cookies. No more cappucinos or frappucinos.
This is exhausting. I can't say I have an eating disorder - then we get into Lifetime-movie territory. There's something wrong, but I'm not certain that I want to fix it, because that would entail gaining weight -something I am too scared to do. And part of me keeps saying, you're fine. I look at TV, or at a magazine - how did I not notice how thin all these women are? Whenever Mom says my bony shoulders and collarbone are gross, I just look at the screen - collarbone, hipbones, knees. These women are thin - why can't I be? Why can't I just be left alone to do what I want?
... the thought of gaining weight scares me. Food scares me - french fries, pastries, cakes, cookies. Sometimes I know this is irrational, but other times I can't even consider any other way - I can't eat that cookie; I can't have that slice of pizza, because it'll be the beginning. That one little donut hole will be the first thing, then something else, then something else, and all my good habits will go out the window and I'll be back at 145, flabby and unhappy.
I was trying to figure out where it started ... I guess a few things happened at once. I started feeling flabby, and then people started talking seriously about going to college - and how the "freshman 15" was a real possibility, how you'd gain more like 20 pounds. If I looked and felt that bad at 145, how would I feel at 160? 165? How would I look? How would I be able to afford new clothes? After that, I started looking around at other people, especially at work (note - I was working in a deli/bakery at the time). If I didn't change something, it was only a matter of time before I was one of the people in the scooters, so obese that I can't shower or wash my hair. It scared me shitless (note - I can't believe I once wrote that. I'm actually ashamed).
I weigh 110, 112 pounds. My shoulders are bony. My hips jut out. You can see my vertebrae and some of my ribs. I have cheekbones for the first time in my life, and my double chin is mostly gone. So are my tits and ass, incidentally. And I'm terrified, absolutely terrified, of gaining weight.
The irrational part of me thinks this is fantastic. I looked so good at prom, so good and graduation. It's good that I can cope with the hunger ... I'm sabotaging myself. When Mom was making me eat a serving of almonds a day, I'd figure out a place to throw them away. At work, I chew gum to keep from eating the stuff we have lying around. I eat fruit, veggies, low-c al breads, salads, oatmeal, grilled chicken, tuna. No rice, no potatoes, no pasta. No tacos, no chili, no pizza. No cakes, no cookies. No more cappucinos or frappucinos.
This is exhausting. I can't say I have an eating disorder - then we get into Lifetime-movie territory. There's something wrong, but I'm not certain that I want to fix it, because that would entail gaining weight -something I am too scared to do. And part of me keeps saying, you're fine. I look at TV, or at a magazine - how did I not notice how thin all these women are? Whenever Mom says my bony shoulders and collarbone are gross, I just look at the screen - collarbone, hipbones, knees. These women are thin - why can't I be? Why can't I just be left alone to do what I want?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Provocation
I saw this ad on a bus stop shelter yesterday. It upset me - another caricature of a fat kid chowing down. The sponsoring organization, the Center for Closing the Health Gap, has been taken to task by the National Association for the Advancement of Fat Acceptance.
I'm siding with the NAAFA about the ad, but it's not a condemnation of the CCHG, either. Their mission:
Article in today's Cincinnati Enquirer. Don't read the comments.
I'm siding with the NAAFA about the ad, but it's not a condemnation of the CCHG, either. Their mission:
To lead the efforts to eliminate racial and ethnic health disparities in Greater Cincinnati through advocacy, education, and community outreach.Nothing wrong with that. The Center is doing good, needed work in the face of plenty of challenges. The ad was part of their "Do Right" campaign, which includes fitness demonstrations, nutrition workshops, and a community garden. The ad appears to be a misstep. I hope they come up with a better one soon - they need good press, not negative.
Article in today's Cincinnati Enquirer. Don't read the comments.
In the closet
I cleaned out my closet today. By that I mean I arched awkwardly over my sister's overflowing laundry hamper and sorted through storage containers. I was pretty ruthless - stuff that I've hung onto for years for "sentimental value" is currently sitting in the trash.
Then I found my old journals. My first day of high school, my first boyfriend, my first kiss. My first breakup, the SAT, college mail, my second boyfriend. Homecomings, prom. I thought about myself a lot. I'm also surprised by how virulently I hated myself sometimes. I really wasn't that bad.
I kept reading. There was the first time I listed what I'd eaten that day. When I first admitted to myself that I didn't know when or how to stop dieting. I wrote about fighting with my mother, throwing away the almonds she tried to make me eat. It was so weird to be diagnosed! How could I, as smart as I was, possibly have anorexia?
The entries go downhill from there. Those first weeks of treatment were brutal - and this wasn't a residential program; I was seeing three doctors a week. Things that should have been exciting were shadowed by how sick I was - going on vacation, starting college, meeting friends. And I said the ugliest things - about my mother, my doctors, myself.
The entries are saddening - but they're a reminder of how far I've come. I still struggle - and I will for a long time - but I've made this much progress.
Then I found my old journals. My first day of high school, my first boyfriend, my first kiss. My first breakup, the SAT, college mail, my second boyfriend. Homecomings, prom. I thought about myself a lot. I'm also surprised by how virulently I hated myself sometimes. I really wasn't that bad.
I kept reading. There was the first time I listed what I'd eaten that day. When I first admitted to myself that I didn't know when or how to stop dieting. I wrote about fighting with my mother, throwing away the almonds she tried to make me eat. It was so weird to be diagnosed! How could I, as smart as I was, possibly have anorexia?
The entries go downhill from there. Those first weeks of treatment were brutal - and this wasn't a residential program; I was seeing three doctors a week. Things that should have been exciting were shadowed by how sick I was - going on vacation, starting college, meeting friends. And I said the ugliest things - about my mother, my doctors, myself.
The entries are saddening - but they're a reminder of how far I've come. I still struggle - and I will for a long time - but I've made this much progress.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Politic Olympic
I was pessimistic about the Olympics. It's not about politics? Please. When you have that many countries in one place, in competition with each other, of course it's going to get political. And then there's the human rights issues swirling in China - Tibet, religion, etc. I didn't think I was going to watch.
And then ... I did. And damned if I wasn't hooked. Maybe it was latent national pride; maybe it was the sheer physical and mental prowess; maybe it was that damn Coke ad with the Special Olympics kids. But just for a second, I thought maybe the Olympics were somehow special, above the backstabbing and hubris of global politics. Call it suspension of cynicism, if you will.
And then ... I did. And damned if I wasn't hooked. Maybe it was latent national pride; maybe it was the sheer physical and mental prowess; maybe it was that damn Coke ad with the Special Olympics kids. But just for a second, I thought maybe the Olympics were somehow special, above the backstabbing and hubris of global politics. Call it suspension of cynicism, if you will.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Saturday reads
My mind can't grasp this yet: Bernie Mac passed away.
Wait - now we have "swing counties"?
Thanks, but I already knew I was going to be poor.
Gift cards to talk about safe sex? Hey, whatever works.
Dear UK Department of Health: BMI measurements are crap.
Fair trade coffee: yer doin it rong.
Wait - now we have "swing counties"?
Thanks, but I already knew I was going to be poor.
Gift cards to talk about safe sex? Hey, whatever works.
Dear UK Department of Health: BMI measurements are crap.
Fair trade coffee: yer doin it rong.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Endings
I can't believe I'm heading home tomorrow - has it really been nine weeks?
I've met some amazing people. Remember how worried I was about the other interns? Completely unfounded fears. The group was funny, energetic, intelligent. Before I came here, I didn't have a clue about the "disaster field," and now I'm thinking of maybe emphasizing my that when I go for my MPH or even getting a degree in disaster or emergency management. My mentors have been helpful, and I've been extremely fortunate to have been able to travel so extensively.
But now ... I had wanted to use my summer work in the thesis I have to do next year. However, I can't take the data back to OU with me, and without it, I don't think I'll be able to expand my work into a real anthropological thesis. In fact, one of my mentors told me I was "pretty much done" and I'd done a great job. I feel like what I accomplished here only scratched the surface. Had I known that I wouldn't be able to do my thesis out of this, would I have chosen to do something else with my summer? Honestly, I don't know. I think I'll be able to use some of my research to do a disaster-related thesis, so it hasn't been a total wash. Far from it, given everyone I've met (and the nice stipend).
I've still got almost a month before classes start. I'll see what I can put together before then.
I've met some amazing people. Remember how worried I was about the other interns? Completely unfounded fears. The group was funny, energetic, intelligent. Before I came here, I didn't have a clue about the "disaster field," and now I'm thinking of maybe emphasizing my that when I go for my MPH or even getting a degree in disaster or emergency management. My mentors have been helpful, and I've been extremely fortunate to have been able to travel so extensively.
But now ... I had wanted to use my summer work in the thesis I have to do next year. However, I can't take the data back to OU with me, and without it, I don't think I'll be able to expand my work into a real anthropological thesis. In fact, one of my mentors told me I was "pretty much done" and I'd done a great job. I feel like what I accomplished here only scratched the surface. Had I known that I wouldn't be able to do my thesis out of this, would I have chosen to do something else with my summer? Honestly, I don't know. I think I'll be able to use some of my research to do a disaster-related thesis, so it hasn't been a total wash. Far from it, given everyone I've met (and the nice stipend).
I've still got almost a month before classes start. I'll see what I can put together before then.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
News roundup
Two disasters: Tropical Storm Edouard and a nasty (6.0) quake in Sichuan, China.
And the ultimate emergency management challenge: clear a baseball stadium.
Disaster of a different sort: primates are in trouble.
Or not: 125,000 lowland gorillas live in the Congo region. What we have here is a failure to communicate ...
And the ultimate emergency management challenge: clear a baseball stadium.
Disaster of a different sort: primates are in trouble.
Or not: 125,000 lowland gorillas live in the Congo region. What we have here is a failure to communicate ...
Monday, August 4, 2008
A note on triggers
I want to clarify a bit on my last post. Anthony Bourdain has every right to say what he wants about obesity. Free speech is a freedom I'm very glad to have. So I don't want anyone to think that he "shouldn't be allowed" to say those things, because of course he should.
That said, I was definitely affected by that rant: I've been disgusted by my (fat, "depraved") body for most of the day. It's happened before - I'll see something, hear something, and it creeps under my skin and into my head. Sometimes it happens because I am stupid. For example, when my Women and Health Communications class covered pro-ana websites, I thought I'd check them out - I was so much better, they wouldn't get to me. Cue two weeks of hating food and myself.
Just because I vehemently disagree with what Mr. Bourdain and Mr. Nugent said doesn't mean their comments don't have an impact. For me, being thin was a way to be "good," to be a better person when I lost control of other ways to measure my self-worth. Eating too much or gaining weight was a sign of personal failure, a sign that I wasn't good enough. Hearing those two demonize obese people echoed the very darkest thoughts I used to have.
I can't ask those two to please shut up - even if I could, someone/something else would crop up with the same message. Much of American society is fat-phobic, and that's something I have to deal with. Thankfully I have other voices to counteract those messages - my family, the boy, my friends, and some really amazing bloggers and writers. I'm hoping soon I'll be able to flip past the celebrity weight-loss tips without issue.
That said, I was definitely affected by that rant: I've been disgusted by my (fat, "depraved") body for most of the day. It's happened before - I'll see something, hear something, and it creeps under my skin and into my head. Sometimes it happens because I am stupid. For example, when my Women and Health Communications class covered pro-ana websites, I thought I'd check them out - I was so much better, they wouldn't get to me. Cue two weeks of hating food and myself.
Just because I vehemently disagree with what Mr. Bourdain and Mr. Nugent said doesn't mean their comments don't have an impact. For me, being thin was a way to be "good," to be a better person when I lost control of other ways to measure my self-worth. Eating too much or gaining weight was a sign of personal failure, a sign that I wasn't good enough. Hearing those two demonize obese people echoed the very darkest thoughts I used to have.
I can't ask those two to please shut up - even if I could, someone/something else would crop up with the same message. Much of American society is fat-phobic, and that's something I have to deal with. Thankfully I have other voices to counteract those messages - my family, the boy, my friends, and some really amazing bloggers and writers. I'm hoping soon I'll be able to flip past the celebrity weight-loss tips without issue.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Et tu, Anthony?
Note to the Travel Channel: this exchange between Ted Nugent and Anthony Bourdain is not a "discussion" about obesity. It is a hateful, cruel diatribe.
I'm so angry. I liked you, Anthony Bourdain. Your acerbic, sarcastic wit and bellyaching got me through a raging UTI this past New Year's Eve. My father even thought you were funny.
But you're not being funny here. You're being cruel, stereotypical, and hateful. You don't seem to realize that "curing" obesity isn't simply a matter of eating your fruits and veggies. How often do you, flying in first class, have to deal with someone "spilling" into your seat? I'd wager not very often. And yet you don't seem to grasp the relationship between poverty and obesity. Come ride a Greyhound bus with me, bitch.
And Ted, your statement about "mentally deranged" people is downright offensive. My eating habits are pretty fucked up, but I'd prefer not to be called "deranged."
I'm really upset about this. I enjoyed Mr. Bourdain's show quite a bit - now I don't think I can stomach (haha) watching it again.
Thanks to Womanist Musings for the link.
I'm so angry. I liked you, Anthony Bourdain. Your acerbic, sarcastic wit and bellyaching got me through a raging UTI this past New Year's Eve. My father even thought you were funny.
But you're not being funny here. You're being cruel, stereotypical, and hateful. You don't seem to realize that "curing" obesity isn't simply a matter of eating your fruits and veggies. How often do you, flying in first class, have to deal with someone "spilling" into your seat? I'd wager not very often. And yet you don't seem to grasp the relationship between poverty and obesity. Come ride a Greyhound bus with me, bitch.
And Ted, your statement about "mentally deranged" people is downright offensive. My eating habits are pretty fucked up, but I'd prefer not to be called "deranged."
I'm really upset about this. I enjoyed Mr. Bourdain's show quite a bit - now I don't think I can stomach (haha) watching it again.
Thanks to Womanist Musings for the link.
Biological Determinism
Meredith Small, the author of "How Birth Control Brings us Down," is an anthropologist. I am vaguely ashamed of my chosen path.
Dr. Small used a study out of the Brain & Mind Research Institute in Sydney, Australia. The authors injected 69 male participants with either oxytocin or a placebo. Subjects were then shown faces with "happy, angry, or neutral" expressions. When the subjects returned the next day to review the faces, the ones that had received the oxytocin shot were more likely to remember the "happy" faces then the angry ones. From this - just this - the authors extrapolated to say:
So there are some problems with this. First, cultures with no chemical birth control usually practice other methods of reducing births. Granted, one of these is prolonged nursing, but others include taboos on sex and (this is controversial) polygyny. Second, I agree that hormones and brain chemistry are physical processes mostly beyond our control. However, the way one expresses the effects of these chemical surges are culturally and socially shaped. When your brain starts sending you "hungry" signals, you're either going to go to the fridge or grab your bow and arrow - depending on your enculturation into a given system. Third, Dr. Small's claims are completely anecdotal. Does she have evidence that women on chemical birth control are generally angrier, less emotional, more "manly?"
My hormones are part of my behavior, yes. But they don't define it.
Dr. Small used a study out of the Brain & Mind Research Institute in Sydney, Australia. The authors injected 69 male participants with either oxytocin or a placebo. Subjects were then shown faces with "happy, angry, or neutral" expressions. When the subjects returned the next day to review the faces, the ones that had received the oxytocin shot were more likely to remember the "happy" faces then the angry ones. From this - just this - the authors extrapolated to say:
"the administration of oxytocin to male humans enhances the encoding of positive social information to make it more memorable. Results suggest that oxytocin could enhance social approach, intimacy, and bonding in male humans by strengthening encoding to make the recall of positive social information more likely."
I think the authors are pushing it. However, they don't go as far as Dr. Small. She says that since oxytocin is heavily involved with childbirth and lactation, women in cultures with "no birth control" are usually "awash" with it. This, she claims, is the reason that women have "traditionally" been "the keepers of positive social interactions." Because women in Western societies use birth control and thus aren't "under the influence" of as much oxytocin, they're more likely to "never forget an angry face" or "hold a grudge." For Dr. Small, these are synonymous with "manly." So there are some problems with this. First, cultures with no chemical birth control usually practice other methods of reducing births. Granted, one of these is prolonged nursing, but others include taboos on sex and (this is controversial) polygyny. Second, I agree that hormones and brain chemistry are physical processes mostly beyond our control. However, the way one expresses the effects of these chemical surges are culturally and socially shaped. When your brain starts sending you "hungry" signals, you're either going to go to the fridge or grab your bow and arrow - depending on your enculturation into a given system. Third, Dr. Small's claims are completely anecdotal. Does she have evidence that women on chemical birth control are generally angrier, less emotional, more "manly?"
My hormones are part of my behavior, yes. But they don't define it.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Birthday?
I will be twenty-two in September.
I have no shame in asking for Under the Umbrella Tree on DVD.
I have no shame in asking for Under the Umbrella Tree on DVD.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Mountains
In the past couple of days I've stumbled upon two accounts of eating-disorder recovery. In one, the writer was a young adult who had entered a treatment facility; in the other, a 14-year-old girl and her family wrestled with anorexia. Both described the "refeeding" process, the part of treatment where food literally becomes medicine.
And there was so much. Food. We're talking up to 4,000 calories a day. At the treatment center, any food left on a plate at the end of a meal or snack period was replaced by an equivalent amount of Boost. In the other account, a mother describes making meal after calorie-dense meal - and her daughter still didn't gain. As it turns out, prolonged restriction changes your metabolism to make weight gain even more difficult to accomplish and maintain.
I was stunned . When I was in my own "refeeding" - from November 2005 to spring 2006 - I never consumed that much. I didn't think it was physically possible (and it barely is, given the tales of painful bloating and cramping). After I was almost pulled out of school, I drank three Boost Plus a day at 300 calories each. I don't know what my friends thought - after one random Tuesday, I went from picking at a bunless veggie patty to grimly eating every single bite of whatever dining-hall entree seemed to have the least visible grease (they were still pretty gross). And I thought I was eating more than any person could consume without becoming Mr. Stay-Puft. Sometimes I still think I'm eating far, far more than my body needs.
Getting those boobs is going to be harder than I thought.
And there was so much. Food. We're talking up to 4,000 calories a day. At the treatment center, any food left on a plate at the end of a meal or snack period was replaced by an equivalent amount of Boost. In the other account, a mother describes making meal after calorie-dense meal - and her daughter still didn't gain. As it turns out, prolonged restriction changes your metabolism to make weight gain even more difficult to accomplish and maintain.
I was stunned . When I was in my own "refeeding" - from November 2005 to spring 2006 - I never consumed that much. I didn't think it was physically possible (and it barely is, given the tales of painful bloating and cramping). After I was almost pulled out of school, I drank three Boost Plus a day at 300 calories each. I don't know what my friends thought - after one random Tuesday, I went from picking at a bunless veggie patty to grimly eating every single bite of whatever dining-hall entree seemed to have the least visible grease (they were still pretty gross). And I thought I was eating more than any person could consume without becoming Mr. Stay-Puft. Sometimes I still think I'm eating far, far more than my body needs.
Getting those boobs is going to be harder than I thought.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
