Squash Story

I cooked a spaghetti squash tonight after being inspired by Kath Eats Real Food. The instructions she lists are really as easy as they seem, and the outcome is delicious. It's fun to scrape out the strings, too.

But there's more - and more evidence that food is more than just fuel. When I brought the squash home, Dad said he remembered having that as a kid. Tonight, he topped some squash with some jarred pasta sauce, took a bite, and looked at me. "Lisa, I haven't had this since my dad was alive." Now, my dad is not the most emotionally open person you'll meet; "gruff" is a good word to describe him. The way he said that made me pause - I could tell he enjoyed the squash for more than the taste. I felt really good about that.

Boredom is draining

You get a rush every so often, but for the most part retail is boring as hell. I'm not used to just standing around at work. At Kroger, there's always someone at the deli counter, always markdowns to be done. As my boss was fond of saying, "if you've got time to lean, you've got time to clean." At Sears it's just ... stand around. I would walk through my department making an idiot of myself, saying hello and how are you and can I help you, because I was so goddamn bored. Besides me, there are three boys in my department: two seventeen-year-olds and a sixteen-year-old. The sixteen-year-old is all right, but good lord. I forgot what an alien breed teenage boys are.

I hope I'll have more energy when I get used to the schedule. In the meantime there's a tree to decorate.

Did you find everything you were looking for?

That's a somewhat existential question for a cashier to ask.

Aside from the early start, work wasn't so bad today. Only two people swore at me. The fellow who worked with me for most of the morning said I was doing "really really great." The vast majority of the people that I rang up were indifferent or actually in good spirits.

After the shift, I was tired and more than a little peevish ... and then I got to have lunch with my sister and two of our dearest friends. All I had was salad and chicken noodle soup, but it really hit the spot. Getting to see two wonderful people helped my mood as well. I bought some cheapo and rather ugly jewelry to de- and re-construct. I've been inspired by a fellow blogger to expand beyond the pog earrings.

Recappage

I felt kind of sick most of today. I ate more than normal, of course, but this wasn't the regular oh-I-ate-a-lot full feeling; it was pain. The food was great - I mean, my grandmother's stuffing really can't be topped - but I think that whole gastric-slowing issue kicked in again. For readers who might not be as familiar with the effects of anorexia: when your body is in starvation mode, it grabs on to any food it gets and doesn't let it ... out. Yet another reason why recovery is so hard.

There were plenty of good things about today - I should focus on those, and not on the leaden-stomach feeling. Animals were a surprisingly significant portion of the conversation. After dinner, we played trivia games - with a buzzer set. My family is such a funny, interesting, and exceedingly good-hearted bunch of people.

My job is among the many things for which I'm thankful. But ... 5 AM? Really? The good thing is I'll be out of there by 1-ish, so I'll have some day to myself.

Heavy

I feel heavy. My feet, my head, my legs, my arms. And especially my belly. I'm trying so, so hard to get those thoughts out of my head, but I just can't seem to shake them.

I also need to get some motivation and do some of the mountains of work that need doing. If I can't do thesis work at the moment, I can at least work on a final draft of my summer paper. Or that lesson thing.

My sisters are watching one of those wedding shows. I seriously do NOT want a big fancy wedding, whenever that time comes. Walking down the aisle was not something I fantasized about as a kid. Simplicity is the keyword. I want an inexpensive dress that makes me feel pretty, I want my family and close friends there, and I want to have a fun, easygoing reception with a quality open bar and good food. Actually, I'd be okay with eloping, except my mother would be really hurt. I don't want a diamond (unless it's one of those nifty lab-created ones). I do not want a dress that costs more than my classes, I do not want an elaborate sit-down dinner with organic truffle-stuffed figs (my sister is a picky eater), I do not want out-of-season orchids from the mountains of Indonesia. I just want people (including me) to have a good time.

Gee, thanks, WebMD! Part Deux

Kids, this article is a trigger. Just so you know.

This month's helpful holiday hints: "You Gonna Eat That?" Or, How to be an Exercise Bulimic in Time for the Holidays.

Though I guess I'm being a tad hypocritical. I'm not sorry I relaxed and ate what I wanted, but there's almost always anxiety afterward. Jim told me, explicitly, that I look good. I can't even explain how much that means, because he's seen me through a good portion of my recovery. But try as I might, I can't stop the sneaky thoughts, the fears. I'm literally afraid to weigh myself - even though I know, I fucking fucking know, that it's just a fucking number. Food journal? Considering it.

Come on. I'm happier now, there's so much that I can do that I couldn't do while I was restricting (like think clearly and understand jokes). This damn tug-of-war is getting old.

Education

To Every Teacher I've Maligned:

I'm sorry. Your job is hella hard.

Okay, I know what I'm doing at the interview isn't really teaching. If I get into Teach for America, I'll have a subject, a grade level, curricula and learning objectives. I'll have stuff to work with (with which to work - forgive me, I'm thinking about grammar lessons). With this assignment, I can do anything I want, for any grade level. It's too much: the First Amendment or the difference between a simile and a metaphor? Subject and predicate agreement, writing concisely or the 1970s oil embargo?

Part of the problem is that I haven't done this in a long time. College classes were such a wonderful change from what I knew - I didn't have to ask before I went to the bathroom! No one was going to give me detention for gum or a travel mug! Now I have to go back to all those memories and try to dig out the good lessons, the ones that stuck and made sense. Oi.

Don't call on me, don't call on me, don't call on me ...

Yep, back in the real world. I have a face-to-face interview with Teach for America - it's December 11 at UC. I have to read a bunch of articles, dress up pretty (read, "conservative suit"), appear intelligent, and oh, yeah, make up a five minute lesson. And then teach it.

That thud you just heard was the reality check heard round the world. What the flying fuck was I thinking when I applied for this? Sometimes I can't coherently create a sentence - how can I teach a child?

At the same time, it's kind of neat. I can teach anything I want, as long as it's capable of being understood within five minutes. I could talk about a poem (not T.S. Eliot, unfortunately). I could talk about a little-known-but-important historical event. Ooh, grammar! People have said that, in my writing, I'm good at taking complicated concepts and making them easier to understand. And I can bring any kinds of materials I want.

So. Within the next three weeks, here are things I need to do:
1. Prepare for interview.
2. Finish "final draft" of my paper from this summer. My mentor told me I was "pretty much done" when the internship ended this summer, so it just needs a final re-drafting. I shouldn't worry. But I do.
3. Re-ignite thesis progress. Everything was going well, and then it all just ... dried up. Ughhghg, thinking about that makes me regret that second helping of soup.
4. Get in touch with my internship director and work out exactly what I'll be doing.

C'mon, Lisa. Make it fucking work.

Sleepless

My goodness, what a weekend I have had. Just ... two months is a very long time to go without seeing someone you love. I'm so glad I got to visit - I needed this.

Tomorrow morning I have to rejoin the real world. And I can't sleep.

D.C.

Going to see Jim today! I have icky pre-flight jitters - not about the actual in-the-air portion, but about getting my boarding pass, going through security, successfully boarding the MARC train at BWI, not losing my bags or my head, etc. However, Jim told me his fireplace is now functional (whether he has a couch yet I still don't know), and there's nothing my cold feet love more than a crackling fire.

Maybe I will make roasted veggie soup for us. I am inordinately proud of myself for that.

In the kitchen

I actually made something that involved more than steaming vegetables and adding jarred pasta sauce! Last winter Jim and I made roasted vegetable soup for my sister and our friends, and I thought I'd give it a try tonight. I cut up carrots, parsnips, radishes, a little onion, half a squash, and half a red pepper, tossed them in a little olive oil and some spicy seasoning blend, then stuck them in the oven. It was a little haphazard - I guessed and set the oven at 425 degrees, and the veggies took about an hour to get soft. Then I blended them with some chicken broth and reheated everything.

It was so good! Even my parents liked it - Mom said she never would have tried something like that. I'm pretty proud, if I do say so myself. I had seconds.

Yearbooks again

After looking through old yearbooks yesterday, I wondered what had happened to the ones I was actually in. I found my senior yearbook stuffed in the corner of one of our overflowing bookshelves and paged through it. Volleyball, Drama Club, Academic Team (proud captain and Nerd Extraordinaire), the newspaper - you know, it wasn't all terrible. I'm not saying I want to go back, but there were friendships I had there that I'll always treasure. And hey, how many people can say they wore a fur suit in front of the entire student body?

Once I got over the initial nostalgia, though, I came a slightly uncomfortable realization.

I was not fat. Not. Fat.

My parents were right. My English teacher was right, my math teacher was right, the administrative assistant was right. My ex was right. There was not a damn thing wrong with the way I looked. Why had I hated every picture of me? I have a great smile! Four years of orthodontia was money well spent.

I can't go back and keep myself from developing anorexia. It happened, it's still something I struggle with. But damnit, we have got to stop making weight and our bodies a moral issue. Not everybody goes clinical, I know. But enough shit happens in high school without that additional stressor.

Home again

Whew, what a day. I haven't really stopped moving since 9:30, when I turned in my paper. Then I drove home, scarfed lunch, did some quick thesis communication, and went back to the mall for another interview. Ta-da - I got hired! I'll be cashiering in the small appliances section at Sears. So if you're in the market for a stand mixer or a microwave, I'm your girl.

Tomorrow is a free day. My sisters don't have school, so we might do something together. I'll have plenty of time to pack up for Thursday.

In other news, my mom picked up some old yearbooks from the Bethel Historical Society. They're fascinating. This year's book with be the 125th one ever issued! Mom used to complain that she had to put her number on her "jersey" with masking tape, but she never had to wear bloomers like the class of 1923.

She also brought home the school's copy of the 1998-1999 book. Let me just say that I'm so, so glad I'm no longer in high school. Those four years are good for no one.

Weathering

I'm all a-jumble today:

1. The quarter is just about over. My only sit-down final was at noon, and tomorrow I have to turn in a paper that just needs a conclusion and some editing. Then I zoom back home for another job interview.

2. I'm finally making progress with my thesis. I can't write much more than that, but suffice it to say that "thesis" actually means "big hairy awful life-eating project."

3. At my grandparents' on Sunday, my new healthier/happier self was briefly discussed. And it didn't freak me out, because they know me, it was part of a larger conversation and dangit, they're right. I do look better.

All right, time to get writing.

Recap

Well, the day certainly didn't begin promisingly. After driving through cold rain to get to my first interview, I was informed that the online system often didn't fully process applications. As a result, there was no one there to conduct my interview. Before I could stop myself I blurted "Are you serious?" like the 14-year-old I am on the inside. I came all the way home this weekend to interview, and this is what happens? I quickly apologized and explained, and the woman I spoke with got me rescheduled for next week.

I made my way to a certain holiday kiosk. I'd spoken with a manager and received an email about open interviews today. The employee I spoke with looked at me like I was from Mars - apparently the email had been sent out by mistake. What's worse - I'd missed the manager by about ten minutes. She gave me his cell number, but said she wasn't sure if he could make it back.

I contemplated chucking it all and going home, but damned if I was leaving without a fair shake. Once I called the guy, my luck started to turn around. He came back and our interview went well - I made him chuckle a few times, and it seemed genuine. I'll know if I have the job in a couple of days. While I was at the mall, I filled out an application for a children's clothing retailer. They're having open interviews on Wednesday.

I made it home and worked on my paper until dinner, then waited anxiously for my Teach for America interview. It went pretty well, I think. My interviewer said that as she typed in my responses, the numbers coming back were "excellent." She said "excellent" a lot, actually; I think it was a verbal tic with her.

So now I just ... wait. But I have next weekend and a trip to D.C. to look forward to. It's been almost two months since I've seen Jim.

Is our children learning?

Yesterday I found out I made it through the first round of applicants for Teach for America. My phone interview is tomorrow night at 8:30.

Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it through. The program is selective and a lot of the applicants come from Ivies. I don't know if my essay and personal statement were all that good. I'd waffled for a while about whether or not to apply, and I wound up submitting the morning of the deadline.

I'm trying to think like an economist (thanks, Jim). There are benefits: I'll have a job with health insurance. I'll get to work with students directly. I'm convinced that good schools positively impact the surrounding community. It's like my work with Zienzele - it's not going to fix the system, but it could help the person who will.

There are costs, too, but they don't seem as tangible. Like it or not, I will be a young, white, privileged college graduate traipsing into a situation I neither know nor understand. No wonder there are reports of resentment among existing faculty. I don't want to be Princess Whitey rescuing poor brown children. After two years, I'm out of there - on to bigger and better things. Is there something wrong with that? And would my talents be put to better use trying to fix the system?

Okay, so that last bit was more anthropologist than economist. I'll keep thinking about it, and tomorrow I'll try to bring it up with my interviewer.

Work

This quarter I've been working with a professor in the College of Health and Human Services on something called the Healthy Schools Project. I named it, actually - it was just an amorphous thing we inherited from another prof . Our goal is to help local schools coordinate foodservice staff, parents, administrators, and students in order to improve the nutritional content of school lunches.

This has, at times, made me uncomfortable. Apparently the childhood obesity epidemic is the scariest thing since nuclear winter. Unfortunately, a lot of the literature I've read is along the lines of "OMG the kids are fatties here give them celery all better." I'm exaggerating a little, but the effect is similar. I agree that some cafeteria foods are crap. The so-called "pizza boat" that was available in my high school consisted of a giant slice of greasy pizza and a large sack of fries. Most people ate this with a packet of ranch dressing. They weren't obese or even overweight (most of my friends were slender), but that ain't good for anybody's arteries.

Unfortunately, the nutrition literature sometimes skims over the link between poverty and obesity. Foodservice and management writers get it - schools without much tax or state revenue sell "competitive foods" - the pizza, the Doritos, the Little Debbies. There's lots of other things mixed in, too - competitive foods have higher prestige, they're quicker to eat, they taste familiar and good. So the problem isn't necessarily going to be solved by cutting competitive foods and force-feeding kids celery sticks.

One project we're working on is posting nutritional information in cafeteria lines. I'm ... I'm not sure how I feel about this. There's the infamous NYC law that's caused a flurry all across the blogosphere. On the one hand, information is important. On the other hand, calories aren't everything (I tell myself that every day). I spoke up at a meeting last week and said I feel uncomfortable posting straight calorie counts. I don't think elementary and middle schoolers understand how to work that into a daily dietary plan - if kids are even thinking about that at all. Post information about fiber content, calcium, vitamins and minerals. Help kids choose foods that are going to nourish them - even if they have more calories! An eleven-year-old is going to do better with a turkey sandwich with cheese, tomato, lettuce, and mustard on whole wheat - which has protein, fiber, calcium, fat, and vitamins - than a side salad that might have fewer calories, but doesn't have all the other good stuff.

And I'm really trying not to let all this be a trigger.

Bustin out all over

Recovery from anorexia is a lot like puberty. You're moody, you fight with your parents, and your body starts doing bewilderingly strange things. Like this morning, when I stepped out of the shower, looked down ... and my chest just seemed to announce itself. We're BAA-AAACK, my bosom said. And, like when I was fourteen and this happened for the first time, I felt happy and scared and weird all at once. But I wasn't imagining it. There's definitely more jiggle there than there used to be.

And sure, it makes me nervous. I was never really comfortable with my body before I developed anorexia, and I was eighteen. It must be even harder for people who developed ED at thirteen or fourteen. My body was this strange, uncooperative thing that bulged in all the wrong places. It wasn’t - I wasn't - small enough to tuck myself next to a boy, or huddle with a group of girls under a blanket at a football game. I was clumsy, both physically and socially. I still trip over myself frequently, but I feel much more at ease with people. And usually social grace trumps physical grace. And hopefully I'll be able to learn how to manage these ta-tas. This time around, I'm much more sure of who I am.

Monday - here we go

Wash your hands, but try not to create superbugs while you're at it.

"Census of Marine Life" is a neat as it sounds.

WANT WANT WANT

Facebook: not just for posting party pictures anymore.

And note to self - clothing purchased while underweight doesn't usually fit once a healthy weight is attained. HEALTHY weight, Lisa. Remember, you can give blood now. You can get new clothes (or Goodwill clothes).

Game Plan

Monday

• Prep for survey distribution
• Turn in thesis prospectus
• 12:00 PM - group meeting and presentation run-through
• 1:00 PM - Presentation 1
• 3:00 PM - Presentation 2
• More prep for survey distribution

Tuesday

• Distribute 800+ surveys to local schools. Local, out here, means 20 miles away
• Buy roommate lunch/dinner for being my chauffer
• Prepare poster for presentation 3

Thursday

• 10:00 AM: Presentation 3

Friday

• Pick up surveys
• Ride back to Bethel, collapse

Saturday

• 10:00 AM - Job interview 1 (Sears)
• ???? - Job interview 2 (Hickory Farms ... yeah, I'm going to sell sausage all Christmas)

Other things I hope to accomplish: exercise, meet with Zienzele point person, do thesis work, find out if I qualify for a Teach for America interview, write final for Anthro, study for Epi final, fix computer. No sweat.