This is the question I grapple with the most lately. I still have the same aversion to seeing Yahoo! News ("news") postings about The Biggest Loser and it's latest round of winners (er, losers?). Although, if I'm being honest, a perverse part of me always wants to look at the before and after pictures, much the same way I'll be at the salon and flip through the "I've Kept It Off For a Year!" issue of People while my hair cooks.
After reading the offending post in Two Whole Cakes last week, I felt so incensed by what felt like judgement towards those formerly/fat people who diet in the same way judgement gets thrown at fatties for NOT dieting. Must we turn on eachother? Can't we all just get along?
I was always one of those people who judged those who diet... maybe not in any sort of hard core outwardly-judgey way, but definitely in the sense that I'd think a disapproving "Mmmm-hmmm, whatever" in my head when dealing with the offending dieters talking about their diets. Balance in everything, though, and I still feel that big "whatever" when dieters can only seem to talk about how they're perpetually dieting and how many calories that chocolate bar has and how they "need to lose ten pounds in a week before the trip to France because all those women over there are so super-duper tiny!" (The latter is something directly from a coworker's mouth just last week, causing many internal eyerolls in the moment and, well, since.) The only difference now is that I can slightly relate to it. I'm 33 days into calorie-tracking and the novelty of how many calories refried beans have and how many calories circuit training burns has thankfully worn off a bit.
I woke up this morning and thought again about the TWC piece, albeit in much less indignant fashion. What struck me today was that the blogger even chose to rebuttal to that particular article. Granted, I only read what TWC quoted and most of the first page of the actual piece, but I kept thinking, Why would you choose to tear a person down who published something extremely vulnerable about having been fat? It just seems a bit cold.
Of course, I just read page two of the article and had to stop because the eye rolling began. It's not as pro-fat as I thought. I could see how it's perfect fodder for TWC, although I still don't agree with the snarky way TWC decided to rebut. Again: balance. I could see some good in the article, I could see some bad. In the end it's just one person's account of her own personal journey, along with her own associated opinions. None of us are perfect.
I keep wondering if there is an inevitable change in fat acceptance headspace when one who never-ever wanted to diet starts to lose weight, a la the author of the Alternet article. Is there a tipping point where you start to hate your own fat and want it off your body, which propels you to keep losing? I'll admit I've felt this several times over the course of the last month. Instead of pushing forward with trying to love my body as it is, I've felt irritated by it. This has had an especially unfortunate effect on my sex life, as now I don't feel like I can completely enjoy being naked. Again, instead of pushing through and either trying to love my body as it looks now, or at the very least completely ignore that I even have a body, I'm now hyper-conscious. That's not cool.
Here's the part where my scale tips back the other way, no pun intended. If at first I had to eschew the fat acceptance movement a bit to make some progress, and it had to eschew me for eschewing it, now I feel like I need to come back to my acceptance roots if I have any hope of making further progress without being miserable. I do need to remember to love my body for how it is today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and so on and so forth. I need to remember that fat - and diversity - is beautiful, not inherently dangerous. I need to remember that striving to lose weight is a choice that I've made, not a mandate I must follow. I need to remember those thoughts and several others, too, as this holiday season progresses.
Speaking of which, I'm going to my parents house to celebrate Christmas... the land of a million sweets and no exercise. I doubt there's a scale in their house, and NO I'm not going to bring mine with me. It'll be weird to take a break from climbing onto that scale every morning after my shower. It'll be weird to take a break from my careful breakfasts and lunches, and to have yet another balls-out holiday dinner. I'm holding out hope that I can sneak in just one workout in four days time and maybe even maintain the poundage I've lost. But, something tells me I'm gonna need the proverbial bigger boat. We'll see what happens.
20 December 2010
14 December 2010
It's official!
I'm no longer a Fat Acceptance blogger! Nor should I really be part of any Fat Acceptance movement!
Phew, I feel so much better getting that off my chest.
It all started this morning. As I'm wont to do, I woke up from crazy dreams to sit bolt upright and have a major revelation about life. I've been struggling for awhile about a few "things", trying to make sense of them and come to a resolution sooner rather than later. Resolve can't be forced, though, at least not in my life, in the way I process information and issues. Well, BAM. Revelation. It always happens eventually.
I'm having an identity crisis. Of course. And on multiple fronts. In fact, all those "things" I'm dealing with... each is a piece of the identity I've constructed for myself over the past 10-20 years, all of which no longer really fit into the grand puzzle that is me. Fat Acceptance activism is one of those things, for sure. I started to realize and come to grips with that about a month ago when I posted about the formation of this blog. I just didn't quite realize how deeply I would end up feeling about it: deeply conflicted, deeply shameful and deeply lost.
I can't tell you how many times Yoga Trainer and I went around and around about my losing weight. Me saying that I felt conflicted since I consider myself part of the Fat Acceptance movement, and him replying that that shouldn't matter. When I made the decision to start calorie-tracking a month ago, I still felt very conflicted. Deeply conflicted, to be precise. However, unlike times previous, I didn't let it stop me from going forth.
Flash forward to today's lunch hour. I have a file of all the websites and blogs I like to peruse daily, one of which is Two Whole Cakes. (I've mentioned this blog in a few earlier posts as well.) I was bowled over by TWC when I first found the blog, because Lesley Kinsel writes about fat politics in the exact manner I always wanted to on this very blog. I found her funny and personal and super smart. I still do, sometimes, agree with her, like in this post about the latest fat girl on Glee. Mostly, though, her blog has started the slow, painful decent from my Lunchtime bookmarks list into the Recycle Bin. The post that killed me today was this one, specifically the section entitled "The confounding". As what I'm doing currently could be called "dieting", I'm apparently not allowed to bring it up in Fat Acceptance circles. Alrighty then, lesson learned! This blog can apparently no longer be about Fat Acceptance because the fact that I'm trying to change the shape of my own personal body, for my own deeply personal reasons, negates the fact that I still believe that there ought to be, in Lesley's own words, "noisy inquiry into what our culture tells us about bodies, ours and other people’s." The cruel irony here, of course, is that I just quoted Lesley in another previous posting, as part of the reason I decided to go ahead with losing some weight. In retrospect, I think I misunderstood what she was trying to say.
Sure, it's just one person's opinion but it's a loud one, one that I previously respected and one that likely speaks for many in the movement. This is honestly why I tend to eschew "movements" in general. (Except for bowel, hee.) In the end, though, please rest assured this isn't really about Lesley and what she says. Lesley's words were just the straw that broke this camel's back.
While I do feel the slightest bit bitter about all this, it's actually more of a relief than anything. Fat Acceptance, at least for the forseeable future, is greatly important to me. Not holding myself to a standard that was more of a moving target than anything else is the part that's the relief.
The previously mentioned deeply shamed and deeply lost parts of me are vastly more concerning. Expressing myself through words and pictures has always been part of my life, since the moment I could put crayon to paper and pencil to newsprint. This is not my only current blog and there have been many attempts at many blogs over the years, but this is the one that always had the finest point, has held the most weight and interest for me, and is the one that's stood the test of time. Nothing lasts forever, though, and I've been wondering if it's time to close up shop. But... it makes me feel like a failure to do so. When I started, I had pretty good readership from people I both knew and had never met. Just recently I looked on my Site Meter statistics and realized that no one really reads this anymore. I get maybe one hit a day, and the days where the hits spike are the days where I'm going back to edit previous posts. Not that readership should necessarily drive the blog, but why would I choose to keep blogging about something I'm no longer passionate about on a blog that no one reads? I might as well keep a journal. OR, just move it all over to my other blog. We'll see how it shakes out.
Phew, I feel so much better getting that off my chest.
It all started this morning. As I'm wont to do, I woke up from crazy dreams to sit bolt upright and have a major revelation about life. I've been struggling for awhile about a few "things", trying to make sense of them and come to a resolution sooner rather than later. Resolve can't be forced, though, at least not in my life, in the way I process information and issues. Well, BAM. Revelation. It always happens eventually.
I'm having an identity crisis. Of course. And on multiple fronts. In fact, all those "things" I'm dealing with... each is a piece of the identity I've constructed for myself over the past 10-20 years, all of which no longer really fit into the grand puzzle that is me. Fat Acceptance activism is one of those things, for sure. I started to realize and come to grips with that about a month ago when I posted about the formation of this blog. I just didn't quite realize how deeply I would end up feeling about it: deeply conflicted, deeply shameful and deeply lost.
I can't tell you how many times Yoga Trainer and I went around and around about my losing weight. Me saying that I felt conflicted since I consider myself part of the Fat Acceptance movement, and him replying that that shouldn't matter. When I made the decision to start calorie-tracking a month ago, I still felt very conflicted. Deeply conflicted, to be precise. However, unlike times previous, I didn't let it stop me from going forth.
Flash forward to today's lunch hour. I have a file of all the websites and blogs I like to peruse daily, one of which is Two Whole Cakes. (I've mentioned this blog in a few earlier posts as well.) I was bowled over by TWC when I first found the blog, because Lesley Kinsel writes about fat politics in the exact manner I always wanted to on this very blog. I found her funny and personal and super smart. I still do, sometimes, agree with her, like in this post about the latest fat girl on Glee. Mostly, though, her blog has started the slow, painful decent from my Lunchtime bookmarks list into the Recycle Bin. The post that killed me today was this one, specifically the section entitled "The confounding". As what I'm doing currently could be called "dieting", I'm apparently not allowed to bring it up in Fat Acceptance circles. Alrighty then, lesson learned! This blog can apparently no longer be about Fat Acceptance because the fact that I'm trying to change the shape of my own personal body, for my own deeply personal reasons, negates the fact that I still believe that there ought to be, in Lesley's own words, "noisy inquiry into what our culture tells us about bodies, ours and other people’s." The cruel irony here, of course, is that I just quoted Lesley in another previous posting, as part of the reason I decided to go ahead with losing some weight. In retrospect, I think I misunderstood what she was trying to say.
Sure, it's just one person's opinion but it's a loud one, one that I previously respected and one that likely speaks for many in the movement. This is honestly why I tend to eschew "movements" in general. (Except for bowel, hee.) In the end, though, please rest assured this isn't really about Lesley and what she says. Lesley's words were just the straw that broke this camel's back.
While I do feel the slightest bit bitter about all this, it's actually more of a relief than anything. Fat Acceptance, at least for the forseeable future, is greatly important to me. Not holding myself to a standard that was more of a moving target than anything else is the part that's the relief.
The previously mentioned deeply shamed and deeply lost parts of me are vastly more concerning. Expressing myself through words and pictures has always been part of my life, since the moment I could put crayon to paper and pencil to newsprint. This is not my only current blog and there have been many attempts at many blogs over the years, but this is the one that always had the finest point, has held the most weight and interest for me, and is the one that's stood the test of time. Nothing lasts forever, though, and I've been wondering if it's time to close up shop. But... it makes me feel like a failure to do so. When I started, I had pretty good readership from people I both knew and had never met. Just recently I looked on my Site Meter statistics and realized that no one really reads this anymore. I get maybe one hit a day, and the days where the hits spike are the days where I'm going back to edit previous posts. Not that readership should necessarily drive the blog, but why would I choose to keep blogging about something I'm no longer passionate about on a blog that no one reads? I might as well keep a journal. OR, just move it all over to my other blog. We'll see how it shakes out.
03 December 2010
Eatin' it
In previous postings I've mentioned that this isn't going to be a weight loss blog, that I wasn't going to be a slave to a food journal, that I didn't care how my favorite foods shake out nutritionally, and that I would never turn down dessert. I'm now in the position of eating my words on all of that.
While I'd want to slit my wrists if this really became a blog centered solely on weight loss, I will be talking a lot more about weight loss as it pertains to my own experience. I've felt very alone for the past couple weeks as I've done this food journaling and tried to modify my food intake, and the best thing for me to do right now is to get it all out in the open and talk about it.
In a lot of senses, I feel like I'm backwards from most women. You don't have to delve too far into the movie or book archives to find a storyline involving a woman who has been dieting her whole life only to discover during her mid-life crisis that she's been denying herself some major foodly pleasures. Eat Pray Love is a perfect example, as is the Sylvie Woodruff character in one of the best reads I've had lately, Jennifer Weiner's Fly Away Home. Who knows, of course, if the reality of most real women is like these characters. I do know a lot of real women who have been dieting for the great majority of their lives, and if not dieting at least watching their weight in some way. I guess you could say I've watched my weight over the years, just not quite in the same way. I've always wanted, and sometimes painfully wished, to be thinner but for various reasons I've never embarked on a major weight loss plan. With that has always come the smug satisfaction that at least I'm not constantly fixated on what goes into my mouth, and, at least I can eat what I want without guilt. Of course that's not entirely true because I definitely have gotten fixated on, say, that chocolate birthday cake sitting on the counter and I've definitely felt glimmers of guilt after eating three pieces in a row of said birthday cake. I'm just guessing that it's been nowhere near the degree of fixation and guilt experienced by a lot of folks who are dieting.
Now that I'm in a different place, I can see where the Dieters are coming from. Whereas previously I'd stare onto that gorgeous chocolate cake and dream about the moment it will first cross my lips, now I stare onto that gorgeous chocolate cake and ponder how many calories it has and what I'm not gonna be able to eat later to compensate for having it. Followed by the thought that maybe the cake isn't worth the calories in the end. Followed by the voice in my head mimicking Mr. Garrison that says "WHAT did you just say to me???" So, let me just say that this process has been really confusing and conflicting so far. Because, fuck... am I a Dieter now? Have I crossed some threshold and I'll never be able to go back to eating food normally and thoughtlessly again? It's all so weird!
I've found myself feeling like "that girl" recently. You see, "that girl" is a little game I play with myself in which I'm never the winner. When I was planning my wedding, I never wanted to be "that girl who was so obsessed with planning the details of her wedding that she became a bridezilla." Annnnd, there I found myself... pissy with the world because no one understood my stylistic vision, telling one of my Best Women that she needed to "shut the fuck up and listen to me for once" and being so anxious that I had insomnia for a year. When Honey Bunny and I stopped using birth control to see if we could get pregnant, I never wanted to be "that girl who becomes obsessed with trying to get pregnant." Annnd, here I was (am???)... trying to pretend not to be affected by getting my period month after month but secretly crying on the inside every time, ceasing all social drinking and smoking until it happens eventhough that didn't feel right, and yakking my therapist's ear off week after week about why it hadn't happened for us yet. Now I'm "that girl who's obsessed with counting calories and losing weight." I guess the point is that we will all be "that girl" at various times in our lives, even when we don't want to be. At any rate, it belies some naivety as to what others have gone through, that I haven't been able to relate until the present moment to someone I've judged for being "that girl". Walk a mile in someone else's shoes, right?
While the experience of being a bridezilla, being baby-crazed and being a Dieter are all legitimate, it does say something about taking the experience too far. How to not take it too far is beyond me. Taking it too far is my middle name in a lot of instances. And yet, I wonder if it's just part of the process to take it too far in the beginning. I'm really hoping so because, frankly, I can't live like this. I can't have my love of food taken away and trying to balance my favorite foods in X number of calories per day is making me tear my hair out.
Which bring me to my next point: treats. I went to dinner with a great friend in town for business and my husband the other night, to one of my fave places, Dosa. I enjoyed the food but was sitting there confounded as to how to enter it in MyPlate, and whether I should even track it at all. My friend joked, "just enter that you ate 500 calories and call it a day!" Being a closeted statistician, I felt like I needed to either enter nothing and just know that day's tracking was incomplete, or to try to enter something approximating the dinner. I ended up doing the latter and whoa... my calories for the day red-lined. The next thing I started worrying about was what my weight reading would be for the next day. I've been weighing myself daily and entering that in MyPlate as well. Being on the heels of Thanksgiving extended weekend didn't help a damn thing, as not only was there Thanksgiving dinner but also a big Mexican dinner with a different friend who was in town, and going to the movies twice, where this girl loves herself some buttered popcorn and the giant chocolate dipped rice crispy treat. And maybe there was some movie theater nacho cheese and chips somewhere in there, too. Ahem. Point being: when exactly do you call something a treat? How often is it okay to have a treat? And god damn it, why are so many of the things I love in treat territory??
I've been fortunate in not watching my weight thus far, truly. If I'd been watching my weight this entire time, this entire life, I wouldn't necessarily know the unimpaired depths of foodly pleasure that Tia Margarita has to offer, or Miette, or Vosges Haute Chocolat, or Bolani, or Cowgirl Creamery, and so on and so forth. I've tasted and enjoyed a lot of food, and I'm so glad I have. What I don't get at this point is how to have those things and still watch my weight. The simple answer is that I still get to have what I love, but just less of it. That's such an odd feeling to process. It's logical and it does make me feel better on some level. On other levels, it does nothing at all to appease me, and that's some deep shit that I'll go into another day (maybe).
There is a lot of food to love in this world. I walked through Whole Foods last night after eating humbly all day and then doing 60 minutes of hard circuit training before dinner. To say I was like a kid in a candy store is a gross understatement. To see the magnitude of tasty food they offer, treats or not, on every shelf, in every chafing dish, around every corner, was really overwhelming. For the first time it also felt overwrought and like the huge mixed message my previous therapist, Sharilyn, always said it was. We're supposed to watch what we eat and be thin and lose weight, and essentially we're not supposed to be food's bitch... but isn't that exactly what Whole Foods wants? If you've exercised control over food your whole life, whether by genuine means (ie. you've never been interested in being food's bitch) or by force (ie. Dieter or similar), maybe you can walk into that store and just be totally blase about all. If you're like me at present, if you're food's bitch, and especially if you're trying not to overindulge (or indulge at all) in your little treats, going into that store is like doing battle with the devil. And you want to know the most cruel irony of all? I've gone into Whole Foods at least once a week for the last year to pick up lunch and I've never been confronted like that. I've always known they have lots of tasty things but I've never been overwhelmed by it. I would just pick things to buy and leave. Blase.
Man, I could go on and on about all this stuff. I'm processing a lot of shit in my ol' noggin right now and always appreciate hearing what other people's experiences have been... if you have any wisdom to share, please comment.
While I'd want to slit my wrists if this really became a blog centered solely on weight loss, I will be talking a lot more about weight loss as it pertains to my own experience. I've felt very alone for the past couple weeks as I've done this food journaling and tried to modify my food intake, and the best thing for me to do right now is to get it all out in the open and talk about it.
In a lot of senses, I feel like I'm backwards from most women. You don't have to delve too far into the movie or book archives to find a storyline involving a woman who has been dieting her whole life only to discover during her mid-life crisis that she's been denying herself some major foodly pleasures. Eat Pray Love is a perfect example, as is the Sylvie Woodruff character in one of the best reads I've had lately, Jennifer Weiner's Fly Away Home. Who knows, of course, if the reality of most real women is like these characters. I do know a lot of real women who have been dieting for the great majority of their lives, and if not dieting at least watching their weight in some way. I guess you could say I've watched my weight over the years, just not quite in the same way. I've always wanted, and sometimes painfully wished, to be thinner but for various reasons I've never embarked on a major weight loss plan. With that has always come the smug satisfaction that at least I'm not constantly fixated on what goes into my mouth, and, at least I can eat what I want without guilt. Of course that's not entirely true because I definitely have gotten fixated on, say, that chocolate birthday cake sitting on the counter and I've definitely felt glimmers of guilt after eating three pieces in a row of said birthday cake. I'm just guessing that it's been nowhere near the degree of fixation and guilt experienced by a lot of folks who are dieting.
Now that I'm in a different place, I can see where the Dieters are coming from. Whereas previously I'd stare onto that gorgeous chocolate cake and dream about the moment it will first cross my lips, now I stare onto that gorgeous chocolate cake and ponder how many calories it has and what I'm not gonna be able to eat later to compensate for having it. Followed by the thought that maybe the cake isn't worth the calories in the end. Followed by the voice in my head mimicking Mr. Garrison that says "WHAT did you just say to me???" So, let me just say that this process has been really confusing and conflicting so far. Because, fuck... am I a Dieter now? Have I crossed some threshold and I'll never be able to go back to eating food normally and thoughtlessly again? It's all so weird!
I've found myself feeling like "that girl" recently. You see, "that girl" is a little game I play with myself in which I'm never the winner. When I was planning my wedding, I never wanted to be "that girl who was so obsessed with planning the details of her wedding that she became a bridezilla." Annnnd, there I found myself... pissy with the world because no one understood my stylistic vision, telling one of my Best Women that she needed to "shut the fuck up and listen to me for once" and being so anxious that I had insomnia for a year. When Honey Bunny and I stopped using birth control to see if we could get pregnant, I never wanted to be "that girl who becomes obsessed with trying to get pregnant." Annnd, here I was (am???)... trying to pretend not to be affected by getting my period month after month but secretly crying on the inside every time, ceasing all social drinking and smoking until it happens eventhough that didn't feel right, and yakking my therapist's ear off week after week about why it hadn't happened for us yet. Now I'm "that girl who's obsessed with counting calories and losing weight." I guess the point is that we will all be "that girl" at various times in our lives, even when we don't want to be. At any rate, it belies some naivety as to what others have gone through, that I haven't been able to relate until the present moment to someone I've judged for being "that girl". Walk a mile in someone else's shoes, right?
While the experience of being a bridezilla, being baby-crazed and being a Dieter are all legitimate, it does say something about taking the experience too far. How to not take it too far is beyond me. Taking it too far is my middle name in a lot of instances. And yet, I wonder if it's just part of the process to take it too far in the beginning. I'm really hoping so because, frankly, I can't live like this. I can't have my love of food taken away and trying to balance my favorite foods in X number of calories per day is making me tear my hair out.
Which bring me to my next point: treats. I went to dinner with a great friend in town for business and my husband the other night, to one of my fave places, Dosa. I enjoyed the food but was sitting there confounded as to how to enter it in MyPlate, and whether I should even track it at all. My friend joked, "just enter that you ate 500 calories and call it a day!" Being a closeted statistician, I felt like I needed to either enter nothing and just know that day's tracking was incomplete, or to try to enter something approximating the dinner. I ended up doing the latter and whoa... my calories for the day red-lined. The next thing I started worrying about was what my weight reading would be for the next day. I've been weighing myself daily and entering that in MyPlate as well. Being on the heels of Thanksgiving extended weekend didn't help a damn thing, as not only was there Thanksgiving dinner but also a big Mexican dinner with a different friend who was in town, and going to the movies twice, where this girl loves herself some buttered popcorn and the giant chocolate dipped rice crispy treat. And maybe there was some movie theater nacho cheese and chips somewhere in there, too. Ahem. Point being: when exactly do you call something a treat? How often is it okay to have a treat? And god damn it, why are so many of the things I love in treat territory??
I've been fortunate in not watching my weight thus far, truly. If I'd been watching my weight this entire time, this entire life, I wouldn't necessarily know the unimpaired depths of foodly pleasure that Tia Margarita has to offer, or Miette, or Vosges Haute Chocolat, or Bolani, or Cowgirl Creamery, and so on and so forth. I've tasted and enjoyed a lot of food, and I'm so glad I have. What I don't get at this point is how to have those things and still watch my weight. The simple answer is that I still get to have what I love, but just less of it. That's such an odd feeling to process. It's logical and it does make me feel better on some level. On other levels, it does nothing at all to appease me, and that's some deep shit that I'll go into another day (maybe).
There is a lot of food to love in this world. I walked through Whole Foods last night after eating humbly all day and then doing 60 minutes of hard circuit training before dinner. To say I was like a kid in a candy store is a gross understatement. To see the magnitude of tasty food they offer, treats or not, on every shelf, in every chafing dish, around every corner, was really overwhelming. For the first time it also felt overwrought and like the huge mixed message my previous therapist, Sharilyn, always said it was. We're supposed to watch what we eat and be thin and lose weight, and essentially we're not supposed to be food's bitch... but isn't that exactly what Whole Foods wants? If you've exercised control over food your whole life, whether by genuine means (ie. you've never been interested in being food's bitch) or by force (ie. Dieter or similar), maybe you can walk into that store and just be totally blase about all. If you're like me at present, if you're food's bitch, and especially if you're trying not to overindulge (or indulge at all) in your little treats, going into that store is like doing battle with the devil. And you want to know the most cruel irony of all? I've gone into Whole Foods at least once a week for the last year to pick up lunch and I've never been confronted like that. I've always known they have lots of tasty things but I've never been overwhelmed by it. I would just pick things to buy and leave. Blase.
Man, I could go on and on about all this stuff. I'm processing a lot of shit in my ol' noggin right now and always appreciate hearing what other people's experiences have been... if you have any wisdom to share, please comment.
23 November 2010
Gobbling
In my previous posting, I talked about how I'd taken some actions to lose a little weight. To clarify the "some" or "a little" in regards to losing... two dress sizes is what I told my trainer that I'm going to concentrate on, with no particular timeline in mind other than "I've heard that 2 lbs a month is ideal." On my other blog, 5 lbs is what I said I'm going to concentrate on through December. Clearly it's hard for me to commit to something concrete, consistent and doable. I've never liked to set goals because I'm a horrible project manager. I tend to get jacked up about doing a very exciting something! for a short burst of time and then I'm over it. Chalk it up to being an Aries, or to allegedly having ADD, or whatever you want. It's me, and it's a pain in the ass.
If you take the self awareness that I'm a not great at achieving long-term goals and multiply that by the anxiety that comes with possibly/maybe/I guess losing some of the weight I've gradually gained since I was eight years old (ie. changing part of my identity), what you end up with is someone paralyzed by the mere thought of embarking on a weight loss plan. Then add in the requisite eye rolling and wanting-to-vomit that comes with even THINKING the phrase "weight loss plan", and you've got a big, conflicted, paralyzed ball of sarcastic anxiety on your hands.
But... I think I've found a way.
During my convo with coworker Janie (also in previous posting), she told me she was using the MyPlate food journal tool on livestrong.com. Janie wasn't pushing the use of this tool; I looked it up on my own accord and have been using it for a week now. My dislike for Lance Armstrong is epic and I didn't want to have anything to do with his world, but I admit that I like it quite a bit so far. Not that I've been perusing the site too much... mostly I just login and track my stuff, but honestly livestrong.com offends me far less than, say, some of the shit published in the Glamour magazines I insist on purchasing and reading every few months. And hey, usage is free! I'd say it's pretty groovy as you put in what you've eaten and then you can view and track as many or as few statistics about your food intake as you'd like (for instance, if you want to look at nutrition in addition to - or instead of - calories). You can also input and track your exercise activities and it links back to your caloric intake, showing how many calories you theoretically burned against what your daily calorie intake is. Here's what that means after running it through the fatspeak translator:
I just did an hour of circuit training with minimal rest... shit howdy, that means I can eat 1200 more calories today and still stay within my calorie allocation! I can haz chocolate shake!!
Well, that's what MY fatspeak translator says anyhow.
But, seriously. One thing I've learned from using the MyPlate tool is that it can be a little surprising what you find out from accruing a few days of data. The first two days I logged my intake, I made no change to what I had been eating (to set a baseline) and was over my calorie allocation by 500 calories both days. On the third, and all subsequent days, I switched up to the healthful, planful eating I always say I'm going to do and I've been under each day by 200-500 calories. I honestly don't feel like I've made some big change to my eating. All I did was get humble about it. I was eating like a rock star previously, dreaming up the biggest, bestest meals I could purchase or make for breakfast, lunch and dinner, meanwhile popping Halloween candy into my piehole all workday long. The upside to that is that I was eating things I liked and even expanding my cooking repertoire in a few instances. The downside is that, in the end, it wasn't even about those things tasting good in my mouth. I was really bored at work, stymied with my social life, and looking for a project to occupy my mind. Of course, all I've done now is shift my focus from eating big to eating humbly... we'll see how that works out for me in the end. I'm the first to admit it's dangerous business and it could blow up in my face.
Which brings me to my next point: I totally see how disordered eating can start in a hot second. I've got one foot on the gas and the other on the brake, and I intuited that I needed to do that from the starting gate. There's no way I'm going to let myself get consumed by a calorie tracker to the point that I'm a slave to it and it alone, but I can see how that can happen so very easily for someone who wants weight loss more than I do. I can see how it can happen for someone who is already thin but doesn't know it, and who is consumed by losing more and more weight. Afterall, the part of Janie's story that broke my heart was her talking about her first Overeaters Anonymous meeting. She sat there as a 300 lb radical, sporting her non-profit look and no makeup, and heard the exact same things she was saying also coming out of the mouth of a blonde, uber fashionable woman who was all of a size two.
In lighter news on the food journaling front: some of the things you think have a zillion calories don't really. Some of the things you think are horrible for your cholestorol are not necessarily. Conversely, some of the things you think don't have a zillion calories totally do, and some of the things you think are harmless to your cholestorol are pretty naughty! Shocking on either end. I've never been one to look at the nutrition facts labels on food because, frankly, I never gave a shit. Now I have to look at them to see that I'm tracking what I eat roughly correctly within the tool, but in terms of what the numbers mean for that specific food - I still don't give a shit. I'm not gonna pick that battle with food overall, and especially not with foods that I love. I like what I like and I'm still going to eat what I want. Granted, it might be in a more humble proportion or farther and fewer between, but I'm still gonna eat it. I think I'd die if I couldn't eat what I wanted to and what I crave.
I keep flashing back to this scene at last year's Thanksgiving dinner. My niece, she of junk in the truck, decided during the summertime that it was time for her to lose weight. I saw her briefly late in the summer when she'd already lost about 15 lbs, and she was super psyched to keep losing. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, she had lost quite a bit more weight and was visibly pleased that she was receiving positive feedback from family members and told everyone she was gonna keep on going until she got to the size she wanted to be. As we sat down at the table, I looked around to everyone else's plate to compare portions to mine (I think a lot of people do this and just don't admit it!), and my eyes stopped on her plate. She had about half of what everyone else did on their plates. "Huh," I thought, "I guess that's what you have to do when you're losing weight like that." Later in the evening when it was dessert time, our hostess wheeled out the most amazing array of beautiful, hand-crafted desserts. I practically wanted to diddle myself under the table while taking it all in. Our hosts went person by person, doling out what each person wanted specifically, most people opting for a wanting a bit of everything. When it came time for my niece's plating, she said, "No thanks, I'm can't really eat dessert anymore." I wanted to ask her how long she'd been taking the crazy pills. How could anyone turn down dessert? And, permanently?? I felt a little heartbroken for her.
As it's a taboo subject for most folks, I decided not to pepper her with the million questions floating through my head, even if we'd had a quiet moment. The thing I wanted to know most was, Did she miss it? Did she want dessert eventhough she felt compelled to turn it down? Of course, this belies my personal bias towards dessert (and also flies in the face of not judging others for what they want to do with their bodies, but hey, I'm not perfect). Maybe she's not a dessert person, and if so, lucky for her! I recalled this scene with Honey Bunny last night and he nodded and said he remembered. I told him, "Honey, it doesn't matter where I'm going with this. I'll never turn down dessert*." He said, "Good, I'm glad."
Happy Thanksgiving! Eat well and don't turn down dessert if you don't want to.
* Actually, I'd turn it down if the only thing available was pumpkin pie. Yuck!
If you take the self awareness that I'm a not great at achieving long-term goals and multiply that by the anxiety that comes with possibly/maybe/I guess losing some of the weight I've gradually gained since I was eight years old (ie. changing part of my identity), what you end up with is someone paralyzed by the mere thought of embarking on a weight loss plan. Then add in the requisite eye rolling and wanting-to-vomit that comes with even THINKING the phrase "weight loss plan", and you've got a big, conflicted, paralyzed ball of sarcastic anxiety on your hands.
But... I think I've found a way.
During my convo with coworker Janie (also in previous posting), she told me she was using the MyPlate food journal tool on livestrong.com. Janie wasn't pushing the use of this tool; I looked it up on my own accord and have been using it for a week now. My dislike for Lance Armstrong is epic and I didn't want to have anything to do with his world, but I admit that I like it quite a bit so far. Not that I've been perusing the site too much... mostly I just login and track my stuff, but honestly livestrong.com offends me far less than, say, some of the shit published in the Glamour magazines I insist on purchasing and reading every few months. And hey, usage is free! I'd say it's pretty groovy as you put in what you've eaten and then you can view and track as many or as few statistics about your food intake as you'd like (for instance, if you want to look at nutrition in addition to - or instead of - calories). You can also input and track your exercise activities and it links back to your caloric intake, showing how many calories you theoretically burned against what your daily calorie intake is. Here's what that means after running it through the fatspeak translator:
I just did an hour of circuit training with minimal rest... shit howdy, that means I can eat 1200 more calories today and still stay within my calorie allocation! I can haz chocolate shake!!
Well, that's what MY fatspeak translator says anyhow.
But, seriously. One thing I've learned from using the MyPlate tool is that it can be a little surprising what you find out from accruing a few days of data. The first two days I logged my intake, I made no change to what I had been eating (to set a baseline) and was over my calorie allocation by 500 calories both days. On the third, and all subsequent days, I switched up to the healthful, planful eating I always say I'm going to do and I've been under each day by 200-500 calories. I honestly don't feel like I've made some big change to my eating. All I did was get humble about it. I was eating like a rock star previously, dreaming up the biggest, bestest meals I could purchase or make for breakfast, lunch and dinner, meanwhile popping Halloween candy into my piehole all workday long. The upside to that is that I was eating things I liked and even expanding my cooking repertoire in a few instances. The downside is that, in the end, it wasn't even about those things tasting good in my mouth. I was really bored at work, stymied with my social life, and looking for a project to occupy my mind. Of course, all I've done now is shift my focus from eating big to eating humbly... we'll see how that works out for me in the end. I'm the first to admit it's dangerous business and it could blow up in my face.
Which brings me to my next point: I totally see how disordered eating can start in a hot second. I've got one foot on the gas and the other on the brake, and I intuited that I needed to do that from the starting gate. There's no way I'm going to let myself get consumed by a calorie tracker to the point that I'm a slave to it and it alone, but I can see how that can happen so very easily for someone who wants weight loss more than I do. I can see how it can happen for someone who is already thin but doesn't know it, and who is consumed by losing more and more weight. Afterall, the part of Janie's story that broke my heart was her talking about her first Overeaters Anonymous meeting. She sat there as a 300 lb radical, sporting her non-profit look and no makeup, and heard the exact same things she was saying also coming out of the mouth of a blonde, uber fashionable woman who was all of a size two.
In lighter news on the food journaling front: some of the things you think have a zillion calories don't really. Some of the things you think are horrible for your cholestorol are not necessarily. Conversely, some of the things you think don't have a zillion calories totally do, and some of the things you think are harmless to your cholestorol are pretty naughty! Shocking on either end. I've never been one to look at the nutrition facts labels on food because, frankly, I never gave a shit. Now I have to look at them to see that I'm tracking what I eat roughly correctly within the tool, but in terms of what the numbers mean for that specific food - I still don't give a shit. I'm not gonna pick that battle with food overall, and especially not with foods that I love. I like what I like and I'm still going to eat what I want. Granted, it might be in a more humble proportion or farther and fewer between, but I'm still gonna eat it. I think I'd die if I couldn't eat what I wanted to and what I crave.
I keep flashing back to this scene at last year's Thanksgiving dinner. My niece, she of junk in the truck, decided during the summertime that it was time for her to lose weight. I saw her briefly late in the summer when she'd already lost about 15 lbs, and she was super psyched to keep losing. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, she had lost quite a bit more weight and was visibly pleased that she was receiving positive feedback from family members and told everyone she was gonna keep on going until she got to the size she wanted to be. As we sat down at the table, I looked around to everyone else's plate to compare portions to mine (I think a lot of people do this and just don't admit it!), and my eyes stopped on her plate. She had about half of what everyone else did on their plates. "Huh," I thought, "I guess that's what you have to do when you're losing weight like that." Later in the evening when it was dessert time, our hostess wheeled out the most amazing array of beautiful, hand-crafted desserts. I practically wanted to diddle myself under the table while taking it all in. Our hosts went person by person, doling out what each person wanted specifically, most people opting for a wanting a bit of everything. When it came time for my niece's plating, she said, "No thanks, I'm can't really eat dessert anymore." I wanted to ask her how long she'd been taking the crazy pills. How could anyone turn down dessert? And, permanently?? I felt a little heartbroken for her.
As it's a taboo subject for most folks, I decided not to pepper her with the million questions floating through my head, even if we'd had a quiet moment. The thing I wanted to know most was, Did she miss it? Did she want dessert eventhough she felt compelled to turn it down? Of course, this belies my personal bias towards dessert (and also flies in the face of not judging others for what they want to do with their bodies, but hey, I'm not perfect). Maybe she's not a dessert person, and if so, lucky for her! I recalled this scene with Honey Bunny last night and he nodded and said he remembered. I told him, "Honey, it doesn't matter where I'm going with this. I'll never turn down dessert*." He said, "Good, I'm glad."
Happy Thanksgiving! Eat well and don't turn down dessert if you don't want to.
* Actually, I'd turn it down if the only thing available was pumpkin pie. Yuck!
The path
For the past 10+ years, I've had a hard time figuring out if I want to stay at my current weight/not worry about changing anything, or to try and lose some weight. This is mostly in light of my discovery of the Fat Acceptance movement back in the late 90's, and especially after having started this blog to be part of it. Before my discovery of the movement, I was swept up in the usual hysteria about having to lose weight and become a mainstream size, no questions asked. Right before I started this blog, my sister passed away from a massive heart attack related to diabetes and heart disease. My sister's death shocked and changed my world completely, of course, for many reasons. It also put a new spin on the question of whether to lose weight or not.
My sister, let's call her Cowgirl Alice, was always zaftig as were my other sister and I. When I was growing up, I never thought of Alice as different than myself in terms of weight or eating. She was, however and unfortunately, plagued by health problems - and weird ones at that - from the very start of her life. I suppose it stands to reason (in some fucked up universe) that she ended up with diabetes and severe hypothyroidism by my current age while my blood continues to test fine on at least an annual basis. Before her death, I didn't really think about health too much... losing weight was more a means to fit into Jordache jeans (age 10) or land the husband of my choosing (age 30). Since her death I'm, perhaps rightfully, a little paranoid. I get an annual physical with comprehensive bloodwork every year, and I have no qualms with asking the doctor to send me with a lab slip in between annuals if I feel it's needed. Yoga Trainer infamously asked me "if I wanted to die like my sister did", and no, I do not. But, I also don't want to walk through life being obsessed with needing to lose weight lest I die an untimely death, consumed with shame and guilt when and if I don't make the appropriate effort to lose weight, or consumed with making a succeeding effort if I do. (Nice to meet you... my name is Perfectionist!)
Lately I've been reflecting on my path over the past few years, mostly because I started working with a new personal trainer recently and I'm trying to work through the emotional scars leftover from Yoga Trainer. When I started to work with Yoga Trainer in November 2007, it was because I wanted toned arms and abs to go with my wedding dress, and also because I was at the height of paranoia about possible health problems a la Cowgirl Alice. Two years later, I still hadn't really lost much or any weight and I wasn't much more toned either... a matter on which Yoga Trainer always vacillated between brittle old school yoga master punishment and mellow new age yoga master encouragement, the former eventually winning out and driving me away. Whenever he'd question me along the way as to why I wasn't fully committed to losing weight I'd tell him, "I'm really conflicted because I consider myself part of the Fat Acceptance community." His reply: a blank stare, followed by a demand to get into Warrior pose ASAP while I contemplate why I was letting that get in the way of my personal goal. The irony is that I never really had a personal goal to begin with because I always felt so conflicted.
Exit Yoga Trainer and enter Boxy Lady. I chose Boxy Lady specifically because she learned about training people of size from one Cinder Ernst and because she's a member of NAAFA. I also chose Boxy Lady because she's a boxer and that's kick ass! When I was interviewing potential new trainers (believe me, I wasn't going to go down the Yoga Trainer road again), Boxy Lady almost told me she wouldn't train me because one of my goals was to lose weight. When I clarified that I wanted to lose some weight, not half my body size, she breathed a sigh of relief and we were in business. I love working with her because she's not afraid to make me work (I'm looking at you, YMCA trainer who was afraid of making this fattie have a heart attack from doing crunches), and while she's tough she never talks down to me and never puts her own words in my mouth or her own goals in my head (suck on that, Yoga Trainer).
Something happened in the past week. Firstly, I started reading Two Whole Cakes (formerly Fatshionista) on a daily basis. As you'll see by the latest entry as of this posting date, blogger Lesley is a proponent that each person is the "undisputed expert" on his or her own body and that she is "in favor of people finding happiness and fulfillment by whatever path they choose". Thank you for that, Lesley. It's kinda what I needed to hear to move forward and not feel so conflicted. Lesley goes on in that sentence to say, "so long as they support the rights of others to make their own decisions and don’t prescribe behaviors." I believe this also. It's why I believe I will always support Fat Acceptance no matter where my own path takes me.
The other thing that happened was a conversation with my long-lost coworker and sister zaftig chick, Janie. Janie told me she'd been struggling for awhile with a raging sugar addiction and compulsive overeating, to the point that she joined Overeaters Anonymous and hired a personal trainer for three days a week. Her doctor had told her she was on the verge on becoming diabetic, which is what spurred her action plan. Please let it be known that Janie is a self described radical: feminist, activist, and lots of other -ists too. I never, in my wildest dreams, would have thought I'd hear from her lips that she belongs to a 12-step program and is radically trying to lose weight. Not only did our conversation challenge all I knew to be true about Janie, it challenged my own assumptions about what might be considered politically correct in the world of weight loss.
Janie's story also struck me on a really personal level. I feel like my eating has gotten off the hook lately (along with a lackadaisical attitude about needing to do any exercise between weekly training sessions, ahem). I plan to eat and purchase great and healthy food at the grocery store each week, and then it gets pushed aside in favor of super processed, super salty fare in super quantities. Not everyday of course, but most days, and I realize I'd reached the tipping point. When all my favorite clothes start to feel tight, that changes things. When I no longer feel good about myself, or the way I'm eating, that changes things. I just didn't quite know how to get out of that mode and back into healthful eating. Hearing Janie talk about her own struggles thankfully shocked my system enough to make a couple changes that are so far going well. More about that in a future posting.
Of course, the ever-conflicted part of me is compelled to say (or re-state) a couple things at this point. For starters, I really do believe that each person has the right to make choices for her or his own body. Given that I have a familial risk factor for diabetes and heart disease (Alice), a familial risk factor for high blood pressure and "bad" cholestorol (Dad), and a burning desire to do things like snowboard and surf, it just feels like it's time to lose a little weight. If you're reading this, and especially if you're also zaftig, please don't take this as a sign that I've sold out or that I'm hoping to become skinny-minny. Also, don't feel that this will become a weight loss blog. That's the last thing I want my blog to become. I've always chosen to be honest when writing and I'll be that same way if and when I lose weight and want to talk about it. If anything, the politics of losing weight is far more important and interesting for me to talk about than trumpeting about my own possible losses.
As for those possible losses, who knows if they will happen. I feel like I've hit the reset button several times over the past few years (another reason I've been reflecting) and have not really gained much ground. I do think I've gained perspective, though, and that's very important to me and my life. While my path lay ahead of me, I don't quite know what's coming next and that's pretty scary. I'm trying not to be afraid of or motivated by failing while simultaneously not being afraid of or motivated by succeeding, and that's a weird place to be. Talk about political.
My sister, let's call her Cowgirl Alice, was always zaftig as were my other sister and I. When I was growing up, I never thought of Alice as different than myself in terms of weight or eating. She was, however and unfortunately, plagued by health problems - and weird ones at that - from the very start of her life. I suppose it stands to reason (in some fucked up universe) that she ended up with diabetes and severe hypothyroidism by my current age while my blood continues to test fine on at least an annual basis. Before her death, I didn't really think about health too much... losing weight was more a means to fit into Jordache jeans (age 10) or land the husband of my choosing (age 30). Since her death I'm, perhaps rightfully, a little paranoid. I get an annual physical with comprehensive bloodwork every year, and I have no qualms with asking the doctor to send me with a lab slip in between annuals if I feel it's needed. Yoga Trainer infamously asked me "if I wanted to die like my sister did", and no, I do not. But, I also don't want to walk through life being obsessed with needing to lose weight lest I die an untimely death, consumed with shame and guilt when and if I don't make the appropriate effort to lose weight, or consumed with making a succeeding effort if I do. (Nice to meet you... my name is Perfectionist!)
Lately I've been reflecting on my path over the past few years, mostly because I started working with a new personal trainer recently and I'm trying to work through the emotional scars leftover from Yoga Trainer. When I started to work with Yoga Trainer in November 2007, it was because I wanted toned arms and abs to go with my wedding dress, and also because I was at the height of paranoia about possible health problems a la Cowgirl Alice. Two years later, I still hadn't really lost much or any weight and I wasn't much more toned either... a matter on which Yoga Trainer always vacillated between brittle old school yoga master punishment and mellow new age yoga master encouragement, the former eventually winning out and driving me away. Whenever he'd question me along the way as to why I wasn't fully committed to losing weight I'd tell him, "I'm really conflicted because I consider myself part of the Fat Acceptance community." His reply: a blank stare, followed by a demand to get into Warrior pose ASAP while I contemplate why I was letting that get in the way of my personal goal. The irony is that I never really had a personal goal to begin with because I always felt so conflicted.
Exit Yoga Trainer and enter Boxy Lady. I chose Boxy Lady specifically because she learned about training people of size from one Cinder Ernst and because she's a member of NAAFA. I also chose Boxy Lady because she's a boxer and that's kick ass! When I was interviewing potential new trainers (believe me, I wasn't going to go down the Yoga Trainer road again), Boxy Lady almost told me she wouldn't train me because one of my goals was to lose weight. When I clarified that I wanted to lose some weight, not half my body size, she breathed a sigh of relief and we were in business. I love working with her because she's not afraid to make me work (I'm looking at you, YMCA trainer who was afraid of making this fattie have a heart attack from doing crunches), and while she's tough she never talks down to me and never puts her own words in my mouth or her own goals in my head (suck on that, Yoga Trainer).
Something happened in the past week. Firstly, I started reading Two Whole Cakes (formerly Fatshionista) on a daily basis. As you'll see by the latest entry as of this posting date, blogger Lesley is a proponent that each person is the "undisputed expert" on his or her own body and that she is "in favor of people finding happiness and fulfillment by whatever path they choose". Thank you for that, Lesley. It's kinda what I needed to hear to move forward and not feel so conflicted. Lesley goes on in that sentence to say, "so long as they support the rights of others to make their own decisions and don’t prescribe behaviors." I believe this also. It's why I believe I will always support Fat Acceptance no matter where my own path takes me.
The other thing that happened was a conversation with my long-lost coworker and sister zaftig chick, Janie. Janie told me she'd been struggling for awhile with a raging sugar addiction and compulsive overeating, to the point that she joined Overeaters Anonymous and hired a personal trainer for three days a week. Her doctor had told her she was on the verge on becoming diabetic, which is what spurred her action plan. Please let it be known that Janie is a self described radical: feminist, activist, and lots of other -ists too. I never, in my wildest dreams, would have thought I'd hear from her lips that she belongs to a 12-step program and is radically trying to lose weight. Not only did our conversation challenge all I knew to be true about Janie, it challenged my own assumptions about what might be considered politically correct in the world of weight loss.
Janie's story also struck me on a really personal level. I feel like my eating has gotten off the hook lately (along with a lackadaisical attitude about needing to do any exercise between weekly training sessions, ahem). I plan to eat and purchase great and healthy food at the grocery store each week, and then it gets pushed aside in favor of super processed, super salty fare in super quantities. Not everyday of course, but most days, and I realize I'd reached the tipping point. When all my favorite clothes start to feel tight, that changes things. When I no longer feel good about myself, or the way I'm eating, that changes things. I just didn't quite know how to get out of that mode and back into healthful eating. Hearing Janie talk about her own struggles thankfully shocked my system enough to make a couple changes that are so far going well. More about that in a future posting.
Of course, the ever-conflicted part of me is compelled to say (or re-state) a couple things at this point. For starters, I really do believe that each person has the right to make choices for her or his own body. Given that I have a familial risk factor for diabetes and heart disease (Alice), a familial risk factor for high blood pressure and "bad" cholestorol (Dad), and a burning desire to do things like snowboard and surf, it just feels like it's time to lose a little weight. If you're reading this, and especially if you're also zaftig, please don't take this as a sign that I've sold out or that I'm hoping to become skinny-minny. Also, don't feel that this will become a weight loss blog. That's the last thing I want my blog to become. I've always chosen to be honest when writing and I'll be that same way if and when I lose weight and want to talk about it. If anything, the politics of losing weight is far more important and interesting for me to talk about than trumpeting about my own possible losses.
As for those possible losses, who knows if they will happen. I feel like I've hit the reset button several times over the past few years (another reason I've been reflecting) and have not really gained much ground. I do think I've gained perspective, though, and that's very important to me and my life. While my path lay ahead of me, I don't quite know what's coming next and that's pretty scary. I'm trying not to be afraid of or motivated by failing while simultaneously not being afraid of or motivated by succeeding, and that's a weird place to be. Talk about political.
29 October 2010
Yesterday's story
Back in 1997 I started working with my first therapist, the lovely and talented Sharilyn Marshall, MFT, concentrating on body image issues. In the nine years that I saw her, she helped me in myriad ways both relating to body image and not. She helped me come alive in my life, truth be told. I wouldn't be who I am today without her.
One thing she gave me that I'll never forget, and that will always be on my shelf no matter how outdated, was a copy of the book Fat!So? Because You Don't Have to Apologize for Your Size. I remember reading it in wonder, thinking that the ideas within were totally ground-breaking. I just took this book off the shelf the other day, as a matter of fact. And you know what? The ideas within are still ground-breaking. Maybe a little bit less so now, 12 years after it's publication, but not that much. Fat people are discriminated against in so many overt ways (duh), and unfortunately that's still the norm for our culture.
Fat!So? is a large part of the reason I say "fat" instead of tending to use other, more common names such as "overweight", "plus size" or "plump". You'll hear me liken fat rights to gay rights in several ways and this is one of them. Just as the gay rights movement took back words like "fag" and "queer", I'm doing my part to take back the word "fat". I got called fat a lot as an insult growing up, a word that would make me inevitably burst into tears and run away to cower. Call me fat now, and I'll just say, "That's right, I'm fat. And...?" It's a descriptor above all else. I am fat.
Back in September 2005, I started this blog to chime in with all the other fat activists and hopefully become one myself. A couple years ago, I realized I just couldn't keep up with the blog in general, much less as a tool for activism, and quite honestly wanting/trying to speak for many, not just for myself, grew tiresome. I changed the title of my blog from "Guide to the Fat Life" to "Guide to (her own) Fat Life". How to make peace with being fat is extremely personal, as is blogging, for starters. And in the end I'm a quiet person who sometimes has big ideas and opinions on (or off) the topic of fat politics... as fantastical as the notion was when I started this blog, I'm just not an activist.
Today I came across Fatshionista. I really like Lesley Kinzel's voice. What she's doing, to me, is true activism. And again, that activism is not something I'm part of (anymore).
One thing she gave me that I'll never forget, and that will always be on my shelf no matter how outdated, was a copy of the book Fat!So? Because You Don't Have to Apologize for Your Size. I remember reading it in wonder, thinking that the ideas within were totally ground-breaking. I just took this book off the shelf the other day, as a matter of fact. And you know what? The ideas within are still ground-breaking. Maybe a little bit less so now, 12 years after it's publication, but not that much. Fat people are discriminated against in so many overt ways (duh), and unfortunately that's still the norm for our culture.
Fat!So? is a large part of the reason I say "fat" instead of tending to use other, more common names such as "overweight", "plus size" or "plump". You'll hear me liken fat rights to gay rights in several ways and this is one of them. Just as the gay rights movement took back words like "fag" and "queer", I'm doing my part to take back the word "fat". I got called fat a lot as an insult growing up, a word that would make me inevitably burst into tears and run away to cower. Call me fat now, and I'll just say, "That's right, I'm fat. And...?" It's a descriptor above all else. I am fat.
Back in September 2005, I started this blog to chime in with all the other fat activists and hopefully become one myself. A couple years ago, I realized I just couldn't keep up with the blog in general, much less as a tool for activism, and quite honestly wanting/trying to speak for many, not just for myself, grew tiresome. I changed the title of my blog from "Guide to the Fat Life" to "Guide to (her own) Fat Life". How to make peace with being fat is extremely personal, as is blogging, for starters. And in the end I'm a quiet person who sometimes has big ideas and opinions on (or off) the topic of fat politics... as fantastical as the notion was when I started this blog, I'm just not an activist.
Today I came across Fatshionista. I really like Lesley Kinzel's voice. What she's doing, to me, is true activism. And again, that activism is not something I'm part of (anymore).
08 October 2010
Let's get physical... amphibious, even!
Today I'd like to give props to Columbia Sportswear. They are pretty much the only mainstream sportswear company out there to be producing plus sizes, other than trusty ol' Lands End, LL Bean and Eddie Bauer. (Honorable mention, of course, to Junonia as they are dedicated to plus-size activewear.)
I'm giving Columbia a special shout-out particularly because they make more mainstream looking stuff for plus sized ski and snowboard bunnies, and for the gals who take hiking and travel-packing more seriously. A few posts back I mentioned having purchased Columbia snowboard clothing for this coming season. It's cut generously but still has a nice semi-fitted feminine line and is NOT baggy, thank you very much. The quality is also outstanding for the price. Today I purchased a few things, mostly from their Outlet, although what I really wanted was the Sweet Slope Hoodie (in Black Cherry). Ah, another day, Hoodie... I'm hoping you and I shall meet via coupon in the immediate future.
Now that I think about it, I also have to give shouts to Lands End for their swimwear options for plus sizes. I've been wanting a more serious bathing suit to wear to water aerobics (which I've never tried, ack) because at present all I have are two fun, fashionable and upper-thigh-bulge-covering bathing suits. (Thanks to Torrid and It Figures at Macy's for those!) Lands End has several options in a range of styles, colors and prices. Also: they have both long and short sleeve rash guards, which you can't find anywhere else.
If you're wondering, this sportswear/activewear hunt comes after a week-long vacation on Catalina Island in which Honey Bunny and I were quite active. Trust me, I never thought I'd enjoy an active trip, and we certainly had no plans to make it thus... it all just kinda evolved naturally and day by day. I had a lot of mostly cute clothes for the trip and knew I was going into a hot, dusty and salt water environment. I just didn't consider the exact limitations of said clothes once we were in the kayak, on the trail, and in the water.
Having grown up fat and endured all kinds of "teasing" about being large in skimpy beach clothing, I've always opted to cover myself as much as possible but it comes with a big price tag. Good lord it takes forever to completely dry a swimdress when it's still on your body, even in the sun! Let's not forget those days when you're feeling extra self-conscious and opt to wear the t-shirt and/or cutoff shorts over your suit. And how about that bath sheet-sized beach towel, the one that actually makes it all the way around your hips and will tie there, so you can wear it to the restrooms or snack bar? You might as well use a dolly to lug that water-logged shit back to your hotel room after hanging out at the beach all day. Speaking of getting back to the hotel room: you also need a change of clothes unless your hotel is close (not the case on Catalina, at least for the good beach in Avalon or, well, anywhere you're staying in Two Harbors) or you're able to get completely dry first. I can't tell you how many times I've failed to bring a change of clothes and picked my back to the hotel with legs bowed because the combination of wetness and sand and the resulting additional chafing against the thighs sucks ass.
A few of the more interesting trails/paths we could have taken - at least on the west side of the island - would require both walking and swimming. Given that we were in Southern California during its crazy heat wave, that option was feeling very attractive... and yet, we don't possess the clothing (me) or the skills (HB) to be amphibious. I stopped while hiking at one point to peer over a small bluff down to the ocean and thought, is there an ideal outfitting for a combined land/water hike, and if so do fat women have access to it? I'm guessing a regular size person could cruise into any REI and walk out with high performance clothes and shoes for just such an occasion. Us fat ladies have to be a bit more clever and cobble it together via various online vendors.
Believe me, I don't know if I could ever make myself step foot out of a hotel room, much less my own house, dressed fully in spandex. Unfortunately I'm thinking that's what it's gonna take for a comfortable amphibious adventure in the heat. As of today, I'm digging the C9 capri-length running tights (with groovy blue swish or basic black), which cover legs enough not to chafe in the usual areas but still allow for some cooling via the length and fabric. If I got the blue tights, I'd likely choose the matching tank, or if I stuck with basic black I'd kick up the sauciness a notch with the Solar Pink Optipop version. (I'm thinking a tank would be crucial here due to reduced surface area needing to dry, and because it's cooler in the heat.) Because I'm prone to burning and rashing like a mo-fo in the sun, and - lucky me and my fair skin - also seem to be slightly allergic to sunscreen, I'd put a rash guard over top of the tank. To top... er, bottom off the ensemble, I'd choose the Outpost Hybrid shoes. I know there are a lot of good water sandal options out there but mama needs a good walking shoe that can go in water, not the other way around.
An amphibious adventure is just part of why I'm thinking this through. Honestly, the likelihood of another trip to Catalina before next summer is low. Certainly there are many other places where I could scrabble around but I do live in Northern California where both ocean and river water is crazy cold even on a warm day. I'm thinking this through for other exercise options, even just for personal training. My current closet of exercise clothing is ridiculous at best. I have one pair of capri length "real" exercise pants and a pair of bermuda shorts that I made by cutting the legs off sweatpants. My tops are all t-shirts that got tossed out of my regular wardrobe for one reason or another. They often double as pajama tops. Uh, yeah.
This is a dichotomy if there ever was one, but I'm insanely picky about my exercise wear. If something doesn't fit, feel and look exactly right, I can't buy it... hence the reason I've not gotten anything new in the past three years and why I persist in wearing unhemmed cutoff sweat pants and old stained t-shirts. So, I'm on the hunt for nicer and more performance-oriented activewear and hoping some of the above options will work out. I'll let you know if I end up leaving the house in spandex and how many shots of tequila it took to do so.
* A note on sizing for activewear: many of the options presented in this post only go up to a size 3x which I think is a damn shame. From personal experience, I do feel that both Columbia's and Land's End's size 3x is quite generous in its cut and this is reflected in many of the reviewer comments on individual products. Thankfully Junonia goes much higher than 3x and can cover just about any plus-size woman who needs activewear. (I personally don't love Junonia's cut as it is too generous and I like more fitted items, but still, I'm so glad they exist!)
I'm giving Columbia a special shout-out particularly because they make more mainstream looking stuff for plus sized ski and snowboard bunnies, and for the gals who take hiking and travel-packing more seriously. A few posts back I mentioned having purchased Columbia snowboard clothing for this coming season. It's cut generously but still has a nice semi-fitted feminine line and is NOT baggy, thank you very much. The quality is also outstanding for the price. Today I purchased a few things, mostly from their Outlet, although what I really wanted was the Sweet Slope Hoodie (in Black Cherry). Ah, another day, Hoodie... I'm hoping you and I shall meet via coupon in the immediate future.
Now that I think about it, I also have to give shouts to Lands End for their swimwear options for plus sizes. I've been wanting a more serious bathing suit to wear to water aerobics (which I've never tried, ack) because at present all I have are two fun, fashionable and upper-thigh-bulge-covering bathing suits. (Thanks to Torrid and It Figures at Macy's for those!) Lands End has several options in a range of styles, colors and prices. Also: they have both long and short sleeve rash guards, which you can't find anywhere else.
If you're wondering, this sportswear/activewear hunt comes after a week-long vacation on Catalina Island in which Honey Bunny and I were quite active. Trust me, I never thought I'd enjoy an active trip, and we certainly had no plans to make it thus... it all just kinda evolved naturally and day by day. I had a lot of mostly cute clothes for the trip and knew I was going into a hot, dusty and salt water environment. I just didn't consider the exact limitations of said clothes once we were in the kayak, on the trail, and in the water.
Having grown up fat and endured all kinds of "teasing" about being large in skimpy beach clothing, I've always opted to cover myself as much as possible but it comes with a big price tag. Good lord it takes forever to completely dry a swimdress when it's still on your body, even in the sun! Let's not forget those days when you're feeling extra self-conscious and opt to wear the t-shirt and/or cutoff shorts over your suit. And how about that bath sheet-sized beach towel, the one that actually makes it all the way around your hips and will tie there, so you can wear it to the restrooms or snack bar? You might as well use a dolly to lug that water-logged shit back to your hotel room after hanging out at the beach all day. Speaking of getting back to the hotel room: you also need a change of clothes unless your hotel is close (not the case on Catalina, at least for the good beach in Avalon or, well, anywhere you're staying in Two Harbors) or you're able to get completely dry first. I can't tell you how many times I've failed to bring a change of clothes and picked my back to the hotel with legs bowed because the combination of wetness and sand and the resulting additional chafing against the thighs sucks ass.
A few of the more interesting trails/paths we could have taken - at least on the west side of the island - would require both walking and swimming. Given that we were in Southern California during its crazy heat wave, that option was feeling very attractive... and yet, we don't possess the clothing (me) or the skills (HB) to be amphibious. I stopped while hiking at one point to peer over a small bluff down to the ocean and thought, is there an ideal outfitting for a combined land/water hike, and if so do fat women have access to it? I'm guessing a regular size person could cruise into any REI and walk out with high performance clothes and shoes for just such an occasion. Us fat ladies have to be a bit more clever and cobble it together via various online vendors.
Believe me, I don't know if I could ever make myself step foot out of a hotel room, much less my own house, dressed fully in spandex. Unfortunately I'm thinking that's what it's gonna take for a comfortable amphibious adventure in the heat. As of today, I'm digging the C9 capri-length running tights (with groovy blue swish or basic black), which cover legs enough not to chafe in the usual areas but still allow for some cooling via the length and fabric. If I got the blue tights, I'd likely choose the matching tank, or if I stuck with basic black I'd kick up the sauciness a notch with the Solar Pink Optipop version. (I'm thinking a tank would be crucial here due to reduced surface area needing to dry, and because it's cooler in the heat.) Because I'm prone to burning and rashing like a mo-fo in the sun, and - lucky me and my fair skin - also seem to be slightly allergic to sunscreen, I'd put a rash guard over top of the tank. To top... er, bottom off the ensemble, I'd choose the Outpost Hybrid shoes. I know there are a lot of good water sandal options out there but mama needs a good walking shoe that can go in water, not the other way around.
An amphibious adventure is just part of why I'm thinking this through. Honestly, the likelihood of another trip to Catalina before next summer is low. Certainly there are many other places where I could scrabble around but I do live in Northern California where both ocean and river water is crazy cold even on a warm day. I'm thinking this through for other exercise options, even just for personal training. My current closet of exercise clothing is ridiculous at best. I have one pair of capri length "real" exercise pants and a pair of bermuda shorts that I made by cutting the legs off sweatpants. My tops are all t-shirts that got tossed out of my regular wardrobe for one reason or another. They often double as pajama tops. Uh, yeah.
This is a dichotomy if there ever was one, but I'm insanely picky about my exercise wear. If something doesn't fit, feel and look exactly right, I can't buy it... hence the reason I've not gotten anything new in the past three years and why I persist in wearing unhemmed cutoff sweat pants and old stained t-shirts. So, I'm on the hunt for nicer and more performance-oriented activewear and hoping some of the above options will work out. I'll let you know if I end up leaving the house in spandex and how many shots of tequila it took to do so.
* A note on sizing for activewear: many of the options presented in this post only go up to a size 3x which I think is a damn shame. From personal experience, I do feel that both Columbia's and Land's End's size 3x is quite generous in its cut and this is reflected in many of the reviewer comments on individual products. Thankfully Junonia goes much higher than 3x and can cover just about any plus-size woman who needs activewear. (I personally don't love Junonia's cut as it is too generous and I like more fitted items, but still, I'm so glad they exist!)
16 September 2010
Yay! A first in the fashion world
First-Ever Plus-Size Fashion Show Hits NYC Fashion Week!
http://stylenews.peoplestylewatch.com/2010/09/16/first-ever-plus-size-show-hits-fashion-week/
Congrats and thanks to OneStopPlus for making it happen!
http://stylenews.peoplestylewatch.com/2010/09/16/first-ever-plus-size-show-hits-fashion-week/
Congrats and thanks to OneStopPlus for making it happen!
21 August 2010
Bay Area Zaftig Chick Social Club
For any of you who live in the Bay Area and want to join me in my new Meetup social club, click here:
Bay Area Zaftig Chick Social Club
Accepting new members, and anyone is welcome as long as you are a zaftig chick or a friend/fan of one!
Bay Area Zaftig Chick Social Club
Accepting new members, and anyone is welcome as long as you are a zaftig chick or a friend/fan of one!
20 August 2010
Enjoyable vs. joyless
I've been thinking a lot lately about things that are enjoyable and things that aren't. This is in part due to my two-week staycation in late July, where I pressed the pause button on work and really tried to just enjoy l-i-v-i-n. The most vivid result of blogging about my vacation was seeing how much of it revolved around food and how food selection and eating has the power to make me feel great or to make me feel like shit.
Take, for instance, a dinner I had last weekend at Dosa with a couple of female friends I'd made online but hadn't yet met in person. It was Awkward, capital A, as "blind dates" can often be. I was dining with these women as an effort to make new friends where I live, people to possibly hang out with. What the experience taught me is that joyful eating is a fairly intimate act for me. Dosa is currently one of my faves and eating there, until now, has been awesome. If I'm with close friends or with Honey Bunny, I can let it all hang out. I can close my eyes while I hum about how yummy that bite was. I can give my true preferences for dishes I'd like to share (or not share, as the case may be). I can eat the whole thing if I want to. On my blind date, I didn't feel as though I could do any of that because the level of intimacy wasn't there. Along with the awkwardness of the conversation etc, I may as well have been chewing on curry-flavored cardboard. It was joyless. I'd been looking so forward to eating there, too.
In stark contrast, at least in retrospect, was how I viewed food intake while on vacation. I ate casually and not on a set schedule or with a set menu like I do when I'm going to work. I had the time to ask myself, What sounds good today? Because I was dutifully trying to stay busy by going out in the world and doing fun things, I actually thought about food less. As I began each day I had time and space to actually think through what I wanted, and obtain it, and enjoy it, and then move on. The issue of food was taken off the table (no pun intended!) in this way.
I'm a girl who loves good food. I don't think that will ever change, even if I lose weight someday. In fact, I'll go so far as to say, I don't want it to change. In my version of the world, food should be enjoyable and satisfying. (At least to those of us who enjoy food; I know there are some folks who just don't and never have, and that's fine, too). And, I surmise that by giving into indulgences as they came up, it actually made me much less likely to need indulgences every single day, or to mindlessly eat.
In the end, I felt terrific. I'll cop to the fact that I formally worked out just once in those two weeks of vacation (with an additional smattering of brisk walks with Honey Bunny) but by the end of it I actually felt like I lost weight. I don't care if I even did lose weight or not; my state of mind was the important thing. I didn't trip out on the indulgences I did go for.
Since returning to work, I feel like it's all sliding downhil again. I work hard to eat a really nice and balanced breakfast before work, but that's about all I can say for healthy eating. I've managed to mostly stay away from the Snack Closet of Doom (that which contains Halloween size chocolate and candy for our work events, among other snacks), which is good. I've tried to think about getting a nice and balanced lunch but the reality of work is that there is often not time or space to do so. I also have a horrible habit of eating at my computer, where I am all day long as it is, so that I can Facebook and read blogs unabashedly. It would probably serve me well to get away and be in the moment with my lunch.
One good habit I implemented upon my return to work is a fruit plate next to my computer. Every Monday I bring, or go get, five pieces of fresh, tasty looking fruit for my fruit plate, which is there to satisfy afternoon sweet-tooth cravings. It's no chocolate, that's for sure, but right now the stone fruit is super good and I'm always surprised at how yummy it can be. My rule is that I eat a piece of fruit first and if I'm still dying for chocolate, I'm allowed to get ONE piece of dark chocolate from the Snack Closet. I know that sounds restrictive but I had to find a way to stay out of that closet. It's a mindless eating nightmare waiting to happen.
Something else that came up for examination during my vacation was my relationship with Yoga Trainer. Summer is always his busiest time for travel and so he's gone a lot and I end up falling off the exercise wagon partially as a result of that. I had a conversation with my sporty friend The Mirthmaker about Yoga Trainer and how I've been feeling less and less satisfied with his services. I'd not told her many particulars about YT over the past two and a half years that I've been working with him, but I really went there during this conversation. Remember the intervention? I told her about that and she gasped, put her hand over her mouth and then asked me how the hell I could have ever returned. Likewise when I told her about the time I was choking for breath while having a total emotional meltdown during a hardcore walk with him and he pointedly asked me, "Do you want to die like your sister did?" The Mirthmaker is, herself, a fan of boot camp style exercise and so it took me by surprise that she was surprised. My feeling about these - and other, perhaps more minor - instances with YT is that it was probably something I "needed" to hear in order to motivate me. But did it? Obviously not.
It's a long story and I'm not going to go there (yet) on this blog about my issues with outspoken people (read it on the other blog if so inclined), but needless to say Yoga Trainer is someone I deem "outspoken". I've also admitted to myself that he is pretty darn egotistical and has little to no interest in hearing or working with my side of the story, what I think will motivate me, what I think is best for myself. Talk about joyless. Hey, I think that YT is a fundamentally good person, I've learned some great stuff from him in terms of staying in a positive headspace and deep breathing, and there have been plenty of times I've enjoyed myself during our sessions when he's taken a more nurturing approach. We've reached the tipping point is all. He is gone again for another month to travel, and upon his return I've told Honey Bunny that I'm willing to train together with YT once a week max, or maybe not at all, but otherwise I'll be finding a new and female trainer to work with. Let's hope it sticks this time, eh? My real hope, though, is that it will be enjoyable and fulfilling no matter what the outcome.
Speaking of training and losing weight, I've been meaning to post a review or at least mention the TV show Huge. Admittedly I was very tentative about watching. Being on ABC Family meant it could go down a judgemental road real quick. But, I'm pleasantly surprised and it's actually become one of my favorite shows of the season. I feel like it does a good job of making the characters multi-dimensional, that no one person is bad or good, right or wrong. Everyone has feelings and motivations, both fat and thin. I think Nikki Blonsky is doing a great job as main character Will, a girl so incensed by her parents sending her to fat camp, and by society's pressure to be thin and girly, that she's vowed to gain weight while there. I'm also loving Raven Goodwin as Becca, the character I most personally identify with. The show is based on the book by Sasha Paley, which I have yet to read but really looking forward to it. Check out the show if you can!
Take, for instance, a dinner I had last weekend at Dosa with a couple of female friends I'd made online but hadn't yet met in person. It was Awkward, capital A, as "blind dates" can often be. I was dining with these women as an effort to make new friends where I live, people to possibly hang out with. What the experience taught me is that joyful eating is a fairly intimate act for me. Dosa is currently one of my faves and eating there, until now, has been awesome. If I'm with close friends or with Honey Bunny, I can let it all hang out. I can close my eyes while I hum about how yummy that bite was. I can give my true preferences for dishes I'd like to share (or not share, as the case may be). I can eat the whole thing if I want to. On my blind date, I didn't feel as though I could do any of that because the level of intimacy wasn't there. Along with the awkwardness of the conversation etc, I may as well have been chewing on curry-flavored cardboard. It was joyless. I'd been looking so forward to eating there, too.
In stark contrast, at least in retrospect, was how I viewed food intake while on vacation. I ate casually and not on a set schedule or with a set menu like I do when I'm going to work. I had the time to ask myself, What sounds good today? Because I was dutifully trying to stay busy by going out in the world and doing fun things, I actually thought about food less. As I began each day I had time and space to actually think through what I wanted, and obtain it, and enjoy it, and then move on. The issue of food was taken off the table (no pun intended!) in this way.
I'm a girl who loves good food. I don't think that will ever change, even if I lose weight someday. In fact, I'll go so far as to say, I don't want it to change. In my version of the world, food should be enjoyable and satisfying. (At least to those of us who enjoy food; I know there are some folks who just don't and never have, and that's fine, too). And, I surmise that by giving into indulgences as they came up, it actually made me much less likely to need indulgences every single day, or to mindlessly eat.
In the end, I felt terrific. I'll cop to the fact that I formally worked out just once in those two weeks of vacation (with an additional smattering of brisk walks with Honey Bunny) but by the end of it I actually felt like I lost weight. I don't care if I even did lose weight or not; my state of mind was the important thing. I didn't trip out on the indulgences I did go for.
Since returning to work, I feel like it's all sliding downhil again. I work hard to eat a really nice and balanced breakfast before work, but that's about all I can say for healthy eating. I've managed to mostly stay away from the Snack Closet of Doom (that which contains Halloween size chocolate and candy for our work events, among other snacks), which is good. I've tried to think about getting a nice and balanced lunch but the reality of work is that there is often not time or space to do so. I also have a horrible habit of eating at my computer, where I am all day long as it is, so that I can Facebook and read blogs unabashedly. It would probably serve me well to get away and be in the moment with my lunch.
One good habit I implemented upon my return to work is a fruit plate next to my computer. Every Monday I bring, or go get, five pieces of fresh, tasty looking fruit for my fruit plate, which is there to satisfy afternoon sweet-tooth cravings. It's no chocolate, that's for sure, but right now the stone fruit is super good and I'm always surprised at how yummy it can be. My rule is that I eat a piece of fruit first and if I'm still dying for chocolate, I'm allowed to get ONE piece of dark chocolate from the Snack Closet. I know that sounds restrictive but I had to find a way to stay out of that closet. It's a mindless eating nightmare waiting to happen.
Something else that came up for examination during my vacation was my relationship with Yoga Trainer. Summer is always his busiest time for travel and so he's gone a lot and I end up falling off the exercise wagon partially as a result of that. I had a conversation with my sporty friend The Mirthmaker about Yoga Trainer and how I've been feeling less and less satisfied with his services. I'd not told her many particulars about YT over the past two and a half years that I've been working with him, but I really went there during this conversation. Remember the intervention? I told her about that and she gasped, put her hand over her mouth and then asked me how the hell I could have ever returned. Likewise when I told her about the time I was choking for breath while having a total emotional meltdown during a hardcore walk with him and he pointedly asked me, "Do you want to die like your sister did?" The Mirthmaker is, herself, a fan of boot camp style exercise and so it took me by surprise that she was surprised. My feeling about these - and other, perhaps more minor - instances with YT is that it was probably something I "needed" to hear in order to motivate me. But did it? Obviously not.
It's a long story and I'm not going to go there (yet) on this blog about my issues with outspoken people (read it on the other blog if so inclined), but needless to say Yoga Trainer is someone I deem "outspoken". I've also admitted to myself that he is pretty darn egotistical and has little to no interest in hearing or working with my side of the story, what I think will motivate me, what I think is best for myself. Talk about joyless. Hey, I think that YT is a fundamentally good person, I've learned some great stuff from him in terms of staying in a positive headspace and deep breathing, and there have been plenty of times I've enjoyed myself during our sessions when he's taken a more nurturing approach. We've reached the tipping point is all. He is gone again for another month to travel, and upon his return I've told Honey Bunny that I'm willing to train together with YT once a week max, or maybe not at all, but otherwise I'll be finding a new and female trainer to work with. Let's hope it sticks this time, eh? My real hope, though, is that it will be enjoyable and fulfilling no matter what the outcome.
Speaking of training and losing weight, I've been meaning to post a review or at least mention the TV show Huge. Admittedly I was very tentative about watching. Being on ABC Family meant it could go down a judgemental road real quick. But, I'm pleasantly surprised and it's actually become one of my favorite shows of the season. I feel like it does a good job of making the characters multi-dimensional, that no one person is bad or good, right or wrong. Everyone has feelings and motivations, both fat and thin. I think Nikki Blonsky is doing a great job as main character Will, a girl so incensed by her parents sending her to fat camp, and by society's pressure to be thin and girly, that she's vowed to gain weight while there. I'm also loving Raven Goodwin as Becca, the character I most personally identify with. The show is based on the book by Sasha Paley, which I have yet to read but really looking forward to it. Check out the show if you can!
25 June 2010
Harry Potter and the Forbidden Scale
I'm a "Pott-head" and have been jacked up about checking out the "Harry Potter and the Wizarding World" attraction at Universal Orlando since the second I got wind of it. My sister (and sister Pott-head) and I even tentatively planned to go check it out this December, when the weather sucks in coastal California and rules in Florida.
Well... looks like I probably won't fit on one of the rides.
Correction: I probably won't fit on the most super awesome ride of the whole place.
Ugh!!
Of course, having seen my eldest sister ejected from a ride at Disneyland for being too fat - this was when I was a teenager - I'm keenly aware of the size and weight limitations that can come with theme park rides. Honey Bunny and I went to Disneyland for part of our honeymoon and I spent the days leading up to our visit fretting away, wringing hands, rending garments and all. I remember being in queue for Space Mountain and telling Honey Bunny, "If I can't fit, I'll jump out and you should just go without me!" I didn't want him to miss the fun of a ride he'd never been on before, even if I was crying my eyes out in embarassment in the nearest bathroom. It didn't turn out that way, thankfully... I fit in all but one of the rides at both Disneyland and California Adventure. (It was the orange-themed wave swinger that seems to no longer exist at CA, in case you were wondering.)
Not fitting in the seats at Universal Orlando has definitely crossed my mind, but I still found the news about Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey's size limitations a bit shocking. More shocking still is some of the response from fans. Pott-heads are so desperate to get on this ride that they're willing to mount personal weight loss goals! Check out one Banks Lee.
I have to admit that when I started reading his blog I was fully against the notion of losing weight for the sole reason of fitting on a theme park ride. Where are all my brothers and sisters calling out the Universal sizeists here??
Banks Lee is an affable character, though, and quickly won me over. His motivation is pure and simple... and therein lies the (hor)crux of a big issue for me.
Motivation. It's something I can't easily identify and never think to use as a true aid for myself. I've talked previously about wanting (and needing) to lose weight (and having really conflicted feelings about it). I've tried to set a goal and stick to it, to no avail. Whatever temporary motivation I use to start working towards the goal eventually leaves me, and thus leaves me feeling purposeless. Needing to shift one's motivation over time to suit on-going and changing needs is natural, actually, but doesn't come naturally to me. I have to applaud Banks for setting a measurable and attainable goal of losing enough weight to get on the ride. He has a sense of purpose with a cool reward waiting for him at the finish line.
It had me wondering if I should keep the penciled-in date of December with my sis, and also work towards losing some weight to get on what's sure to be a really kick-ass ride (and hell, make the plane ride from CA to FL more endurable). Honestly I wanted to have a knee-jerk reaction to that thought but I couldn't think of a good enough reason to be so reactionary...
Well... looks like I probably won't fit on one of the rides.
Correction: I probably won't fit on the most super awesome ride of the whole place.
Ugh!!
Of course, having seen my eldest sister ejected from a ride at Disneyland for being too fat - this was when I was a teenager - I'm keenly aware of the size and weight limitations that can come with theme park rides. Honey Bunny and I went to Disneyland for part of our honeymoon and I spent the days leading up to our visit fretting away, wringing hands, rending garments and all. I remember being in queue for Space Mountain and telling Honey Bunny, "If I can't fit, I'll jump out and you should just go without me!" I didn't want him to miss the fun of a ride he'd never been on before, even if I was crying my eyes out in embarassment in the nearest bathroom. It didn't turn out that way, thankfully... I fit in all but one of the rides at both Disneyland and California Adventure. (It was the orange-themed wave swinger that seems to no longer exist at CA, in case you were wondering.)
Not fitting in the seats at Universal Orlando has definitely crossed my mind, but I still found the news about Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey's size limitations a bit shocking. More shocking still is some of the response from fans. Pott-heads are so desperate to get on this ride that they're willing to mount personal weight loss goals! Check out one Banks Lee.
I have to admit that when I started reading his blog I was fully against the notion of losing weight for the sole reason of fitting on a theme park ride. Where are all my brothers and sisters calling out the Universal sizeists here??
Banks Lee is an affable character, though, and quickly won me over. His motivation is pure and simple... and therein lies the (hor)crux of a big issue for me.
Motivation. It's something I can't easily identify and never think to use as a true aid for myself. I've talked previously about wanting (and needing) to lose weight (and having really conflicted feelings about it). I've tried to set a goal and stick to it, to no avail. Whatever temporary motivation I use to start working towards the goal eventually leaves me, and thus leaves me feeling purposeless. Needing to shift one's motivation over time to suit on-going and changing needs is natural, actually, but doesn't come naturally to me. I have to applaud Banks for setting a measurable and attainable goal of losing enough weight to get on the ride. He has a sense of purpose with a cool reward waiting for him at the finish line.
It had me wondering if I should keep the penciled-in date of December with my sis, and also work towards losing some weight to get on what's sure to be a really kick-ass ride (and hell, make the plane ride from CA to FL more endurable). Honestly I wanted to have a knee-jerk reaction to that thought but I couldn't think of a good enough reason to be so reactionary...
19 March 2010
Bitten
Apparently I've been bitten by the snowboarding bug. Or at the very least, the excitement bug. Last weekend I went to the snow, as promised, and took a snowboarding lesson for the first time. It was a panic-inducing and terrifying experience -- and that just accounts for the days, hours and minutes leading up to the lesson. The actual lesson was pretty darn groovy, even if it was in a near whiteout.
I had actually seen Therapist on the Monday prior to the trip and told her that I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Strangely, just telling her that started the issues ball rolling. Funny how that happens... I either go to therapy not wanting to talk about something but then I do and feel a million times better, OR I go in thinking I'm all good and come out of the session whipped into a froth.
On Wednesday of last week, I took a long lunch to go to my local ski shop to get fitted for rentals. They assured me that they had rental boots that would fit both my wide-ass feet and my wide-ass calves, and yet there the sales rep stood before me: flummoxed as all hell. "Huh. These usually fit our most unfittable clients," he said. I left in tears and called my bestie for a pep talk.
"Just do the lesson and if you hate it, then you go back to the lodge and relax. It doesn't mean you're a failure if you don't like skiing anymore. In fact, it's a victory if you just go and try it."
Good point.
And yet I found myself in quite the dither for the rest of the day, culminating in a long, unavoidable talk with Honey Bunny about the possibility of just forgetting about this whole skiing thing. It become clear through the meltdown and tears that, at least at this point, I have too much invested in trying skiing "again". Skiing was so much a part of my identity growing up, and I have always felt like it would be easy to pick back up again... that I should pick it back up again, because if I don't then what does that say about me? That I'm too fat to do it anymore? That I no longer care for something that I felt a passion for when I was a kid? And, worst of all... what if I'm no longer good at it? I decided at that moment that I was going to switch to snowboarding. Doing so meant that if it was a failure, there was little to nothing invested in it. I had an excuse for being slow at learning or entirely bad at it: I've never done it before.
The next day I contacted the resort and changed my private lesson to snowboarding, but not before I turned the receptionist into a 2nd therapist. I told her I was fat and not in the best of shape, and asked if I was crazy for trying snowboarding. She laughed and said, among many other things, "Just come prepared for it to be really hard because it's really hard for everyone in the beginning. And remember, it's always good to try new things, so this is a good thing you're doing."
I also went back to the ski shop and got fitted for the boots and board. To my surprise the boots were not abundantly more comfortable than ski boots, but they were definitely more forgiving. Hey, my toes did not fall asleep within 30 seconds! That is a snow sports miracle for wide-footed people everywhere.
This is a good time to mention that the weatherpeople were forcasting 80% chance of snow starting at, oh, 1pm on Friday. My lesson was scheduled for 2pm. This didn't make me unhappy or panicked (yet). It, in fact, relieved me by providing an extra excuse for possible failure at snowboarding.
Also a good time to mention that pretty much everyone I told about trying snowboarding would stop in their tracks, look me up and down, and say something like, ".....really? Cuz my sister's friend - she's 5'10", 105 lbs and a gym fanatic - tried snowboarding when she was 18 and had to be on heavy painkillers from the bruising and muscle aches for the following five days. Then she went back a week later and tried it again and broke both arms." Having spent six long weeks in external traction for a shattered wrist from trying to get back into my other childhood passion, rollerskating, I was a tad worried. Wrist guards, check.
We arrived at the resort at about noon on Friday. I started crying in the parking lot but quickly sucked it up. My nephew, who has been snowboarding since 2002, decided he was going to introduce me to boarding before my lesson. It was probably nerves more than anything but the 20-minute act of both him and I trying desperately to get me buckled into the bindings sent me back into orbit. My toes had long since fallen asleep, my feet in general were starting to ache, the snow was falling faster and faster, the wind picking up. I choked out, "I... need to go to the bathroom. See you after the lesson." More crying ensued. I went up to the cafeteria where I looked out the giant windows at the slopes. Watched my nephew meet up with Honey Bunny, watched as he told HB that I fled, HB briefly looking up at the cafeteria windows, then looking down in defeat, followed by a slow shrug, and then off they went to the lift together.
I felt so miserable in that moment. I felt so abandoned and pathetic. But at least I was sitting down, my feet slowly coming back to life. I watched thin people come in from skiing and boarding, smiles on their wind-chapped faces, sitting down exhausted from their day of riding. Why can't it ever be that easy for me?, I wondered. I'm just going to go down to the ticket office and cancel this fucking lesson.
But, the more I sat there, the more I regained my composure. I had to decide to let go of every single expectation I had. I had to decide not to hate everyone in the room for being seemingly better at this snow shit than me. Eventually, as I stared out of the window at the worsening weather conditions, I thought, Omigod, I'm on fucking Hoth. And I cracked up! I also formulated the best Facebook posting ever (IMHO) in my head, making myself laugh even more. I couldn't post it until I had signal but hey, my inside joke propelled me to a better mood and a can-do attitude.
At 1:50, I marched right out to the lesson meeting point and stood there, completely unafraid of What Happens Next. Awesome Rich, as I now call him, was my instructor. Like me, he is in his late 30's and married. Unlike me, he's competed in Super Pipe competitions with the likes of Shaun White. I love how he said, "I did all that shit and lived the life but now I'm here, and I love what I do. I would so much rather be teaching you how to snowboard than competing for a medal." There was absolutely no irony or sarcasm in his voice, trust me. I believe him because he's a great teacher who taught me to snowboard.
I snowboarded, people! At first with him holding my hand, helping me maintain low speed and control, but eventually on my own. With mascara running down my face (see also: The Makeup Queen, 100% Whored Up). With a snow outfit I thought was cute but really was kinda lame, oh well! Dude, I even wore goggles.
By the end of the lesson, I had only fallen twice and Awesome Rich told me he thought I did really well for a first-timer. He also said, "I'm pretty sure all the lifts are going to be iced over within a half hour, so I would recommend going inside at this point." Phew. Sipping a Vodka Tonic as I sat in the resort saloon waiting for my nephew and Honey Bunny to come in was a nice close to the day. It was also nice to stretch my calves and feet. Imagine trying to push a brick through solid ground using only your toes and some leverage provided by bended knees, and that's snowboarding on your toe edge. The heel edge is not as hard but is trickier and requires a finer sense of balance. Snowboarding is intensely physically demanding but is much, much easier technically than everyone said.
I wussed out a bit and didn't go back on Saturday like Rich had recommended. I loved it but I needed to completely come down from the high anxiety of the week leading up, and visit with family a bit (the actual reason we went to the snow, FYI). I did plan on going back on Sunday but HB came home on Saturday night looking as fried as I've ever seen him and said he couldn't possibly ski another day. Oh well, here's looking to next season.
Meanwhile I'd like to condition a bit and am thinking about purchasing a balance board (which is good for a lot of things, I hear). When I think back on what it was like to snowboard on my own, especially when I realized that Awesome Rich had let go of my hand and I was doing it on my own accord... it was amazing. I can see how people get hooked. Apparently I'm hooked.
Psst! I also found some wide boot and better clothing options that I'll be testing in the meantime. I'm having fun. Life is indeed good when you try new things.
I had actually seen Therapist on the Monday prior to the trip and told her that I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Strangely, just telling her that started the issues ball rolling. Funny how that happens... I either go to therapy not wanting to talk about something but then I do and feel a million times better, OR I go in thinking I'm all good and come out of the session whipped into a froth.
On Wednesday of last week, I took a long lunch to go to my local ski shop to get fitted for rentals. They assured me that they had rental boots that would fit both my wide-ass feet and my wide-ass calves, and yet there the sales rep stood before me: flummoxed as all hell. "Huh. These usually fit our most unfittable clients," he said. I left in tears and called my bestie for a pep talk.
"Just do the lesson and if you hate it, then you go back to the lodge and relax. It doesn't mean you're a failure if you don't like skiing anymore. In fact, it's a victory if you just go and try it."
Good point.
And yet I found myself in quite the dither for the rest of the day, culminating in a long, unavoidable talk with Honey Bunny about the possibility of just forgetting about this whole skiing thing. It become clear through the meltdown and tears that, at least at this point, I have too much invested in trying skiing "again". Skiing was so much a part of my identity growing up, and I have always felt like it would be easy to pick back up again... that I should pick it back up again, because if I don't then what does that say about me? That I'm too fat to do it anymore? That I no longer care for something that I felt a passion for when I was a kid? And, worst of all... what if I'm no longer good at it? I decided at that moment that I was going to switch to snowboarding. Doing so meant that if it was a failure, there was little to nothing invested in it. I had an excuse for being slow at learning or entirely bad at it: I've never done it before.
The next day I contacted the resort and changed my private lesson to snowboarding, but not before I turned the receptionist into a 2nd therapist. I told her I was fat and not in the best of shape, and asked if I was crazy for trying snowboarding. She laughed and said, among many other things, "Just come prepared for it to be really hard because it's really hard for everyone in the beginning. And remember, it's always good to try new things, so this is a good thing you're doing."
I also went back to the ski shop and got fitted for the boots and board. To my surprise the boots were not abundantly more comfortable than ski boots, but they were definitely more forgiving. Hey, my toes did not fall asleep within 30 seconds! That is a snow sports miracle for wide-footed people everywhere.
This is a good time to mention that the weatherpeople were forcasting 80% chance of snow starting at, oh, 1pm on Friday. My lesson was scheduled for 2pm. This didn't make me unhappy or panicked (yet). It, in fact, relieved me by providing an extra excuse for possible failure at snowboarding.
Also a good time to mention that pretty much everyone I told about trying snowboarding would stop in their tracks, look me up and down, and say something like, ".....really? Cuz my sister's friend - she's 5'10", 105 lbs and a gym fanatic - tried snowboarding when she was 18 and had to be on heavy painkillers from the bruising and muscle aches for the following five days. Then she went back a week later and tried it again and broke both arms." Having spent six long weeks in external traction for a shattered wrist from trying to get back into my other childhood passion, rollerskating, I was a tad worried. Wrist guards, check.
We arrived at the resort at about noon on Friday. I started crying in the parking lot but quickly sucked it up. My nephew, who has been snowboarding since 2002, decided he was going to introduce me to boarding before my lesson. It was probably nerves more than anything but the 20-minute act of both him and I trying desperately to get me buckled into the bindings sent me back into orbit. My toes had long since fallen asleep, my feet in general were starting to ache, the snow was falling faster and faster, the wind picking up. I choked out, "I... need to go to the bathroom. See you after the lesson." More crying ensued. I went up to the cafeteria where I looked out the giant windows at the slopes. Watched my nephew meet up with Honey Bunny, watched as he told HB that I fled, HB briefly looking up at the cafeteria windows, then looking down in defeat, followed by a slow shrug, and then off they went to the lift together.
I felt so miserable in that moment. I felt so abandoned and pathetic. But at least I was sitting down, my feet slowly coming back to life. I watched thin people come in from skiing and boarding, smiles on their wind-chapped faces, sitting down exhausted from their day of riding. Why can't it ever be that easy for me?, I wondered. I'm just going to go down to the ticket office and cancel this fucking lesson.
But, the more I sat there, the more I regained my composure. I had to decide to let go of every single expectation I had. I had to decide not to hate everyone in the room for being seemingly better at this snow shit than me. Eventually, as I stared out of the window at the worsening weather conditions, I thought, Omigod, I'm on fucking Hoth. And I cracked up! I also formulated the best Facebook posting ever (IMHO) in my head, making myself laugh even more. I couldn't post it until I had signal but hey, my inside joke propelled me to a better mood and a can-do attitude.
At 1:50, I marched right out to the lesson meeting point and stood there, completely unafraid of What Happens Next. Awesome Rich, as I now call him, was my instructor. Like me, he is in his late 30's and married. Unlike me, he's competed in Super Pipe competitions with the likes of Shaun White. I love how he said, "I did all that shit and lived the life but now I'm here, and I love what I do. I would so much rather be teaching you how to snowboard than competing for a medal." There was absolutely no irony or sarcasm in his voice, trust me. I believe him because he's a great teacher who taught me to snowboard.
I snowboarded, people! At first with him holding my hand, helping me maintain low speed and control, but eventually on my own. With mascara running down my face (see also: The Makeup Queen, 100% Whored Up). With a snow outfit I thought was cute but really was kinda lame, oh well! Dude, I even wore goggles.
By the end of the lesson, I had only fallen twice and Awesome Rich told me he thought I did really well for a first-timer. He also said, "I'm pretty sure all the lifts are going to be iced over within a half hour, so I would recommend going inside at this point." Phew. Sipping a Vodka Tonic as I sat in the resort saloon waiting for my nephew and Honey Bunny to come in was a nice close to the day. It was also nice to stretch my calves and feet. Imagine trying to push a brick through solid ground using only your toes and some leverage provided by bended knees, and that's snowboarding on your toe edge. The heel edge is not as hard but is trickier and requires a finer sense of balance. Snowboarding is intensely physically demanding but is much, much easier technically than everyone said.
I wussed out a bit and didn't go back on Saturday like Rich had recommended. I loved it but I needed to completely come down from the high anxiety of the week leading up, and visit with family a bit (the actual reason we went to the snow, FYI). I did plan on going back on Sunday but HB came home on Saturday night looking as fried as I've ever seen him and said he couldn't possibly ski another day. Oh well, here's looking to next season.
Meanwhile I'd like to condition a bit and am thinking about purchasing a balance board (which is good for a lot of things, I hear). When I think back on what it was like to snowboard on my own, especially when I realized that Awesome Rich had let go of my hand and I was doing it on my own accord... it was amazing. I can see how people get hooked. Apparently I'm hooked.
Psst! I also found some wide boot and better clothing options that I'll be testing in the meantime. I'm having fun. Life is indeed good when you try new things.
12 February 2010
Yikes, Scoobs... snow sports!
Age 8: Learned how to ski for the first time and love, love, loved it.
Age 10: A solid Intermediate level skier, I'd happily graduated to doing stemming/skidding turns and self-imposed time trials on my favorite runs.
Age 13: Stopped skiing because puberty hit and I could no longer fit in my ski clothes, nor could I find any new ones in my dad's price range that I would be ok being seen in.
Age 17: Went skiing with my BFF for the first time in four years wearing jeans and a casual jacket (froze my ass off). Ended the day thinking I was going to die of bruising and muscle aches, and swore off any future skiing.
Age 25: Heavily intoxicated while watching the Winter X Games on TV with my roommates, Jonnel Janewicz crosses the screen as one of the contenders of Women's Snowboarder X. I attended school with Jonnel from pre-school through high school graduation, was in the Girl Scouts with her in 6th grade, and she, eh... really wasn't so nice to me. Seeing her success as an athlete and cool snowboarder chick threw me into a shame spiral of epic proportions, and I decided I was going to learn how to snowboard. Lack of funds, motivation and courage prevented this goal from coming to fruition.
Age 32: Honey Bunny talks me into going on a trip to his favorite resort to get snowboarding lessons while he skis. A month prior I find appropriate and not-completely-unfortunate snow gear for fat girls at Junonia, and HB orders it for me as a gift. As luck would have it, it was a warm winter and the resort closed the weekend before our trip.
Ages 33 - 36: Honey Bunny tries, unsuccessfully, each winter to talk me into going skiing or snowboarding with him. I give him various excuses each year.
Age 37: THERE'S NO GETTING OUT OF IT THIS YEAR.
I'll set the stage for you. Last week, HB announced he was going to go skiing on the weekend, and asked if I was coming with him or not. I said no. He asked why. I didn't have a great answer, and an argument ensued about my phyiscal and emotional readiness - or not - for snow sports. He left on the weekend to go skiing while I stayed home to play out my requisite secret single behaviors (usually involves a super veggie burrito with extra hot green sauce and a giant lemony Diet Coke from Zona Rosa while catching up on all the "chick shows" backlogged in my DV-R).
Just about to embark on my shopping marathon at the Union Square Macy's on Saturday (a not-so-secret, not-so-single behavior, but nevertheless fun to do while Man is out of town), I grabbed my coat from the hall closet... the same hall closet where the Junonia snow clothes have been stored since five years ago when they were purchased. I saw them hanging there - lonely, dusty, rejected - and wondered why I was being so resistant. I took off my nice shopping clothes and tried them on, right there and then.
Once I had the clothes on, I could picture myself at least trying to learn (snowboarding) or remember (skiing). One of the biggest reasons behind creating this blog was to push the notion that no fat girl should be afraid to TRY... to try something new, to try something scary, to try something that fat people don't normally try purely because they're fat. Little by little, my resistance was worn down as I stood there and stared in the mirror at myself in that snow suit, and tried to visualize having a good time trying something new.
So, I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna suit up and rent equipment and take a lesson and see how it goes. Not sure if it's skiing or snowboarding I'm gonna do, but I'll figure it out sometime in the next month.
Not before tending to a little business, however... the business known as vanity. As I told HB upon his return, there are two levels of comfort for me: the comfort of knowing I look ok, and actual comfort. The snow pants he got me are great on all levels. The jacket is... not.
I got to quick work on the internet (eg. the only place a fat chick can purchase sport-specific gear for anything other than the gym). Thank god Eddie Bauer, LL Bean and Lands End carry plus sizes because I actually found six jackets that would work. I can't help but think about five years ago and the now-unfortunate snow jacket I got, and how it was literally the ONLY thing available at that time, internet or not.
In the end, I whittled it down to two jackets, and decided to have both shipped thinking I'd return the one that didn't work. They both arrived yesterday and are both just lovely. So lovely, in fact, that Honey Bunny said I should keep both. The SnowPack 700 is a lightweight option, good for hanging out in cold and/or snow in general, especially good for warmer slope days and when/if I get better and need less padding. It also has a nice fitted shape to it and is strangely flattering. I got it in Persian Blue, although am quite tempted to exchange for the Bright Raspberry. Hmmm.
The SnowRoller is The Works, by comparison. It's not as fitted or flattering but is quite warm, has lots of pockets and ways to customize the fit both inside and out, and has the added benefit of looking, shape-wise anyhow, most like the regular size snowboard chick-wear. I got it in Ice Blue. As Honey Bunny also had me try on the original Junonia jacket (just because it's tough, thick and uber warm) and it didn't look so bad by comparison, he convinced me not to eBay it. It's also in the powder blue range. In toto, that makes three powder blue jackets: one light, one medium, one heavy. Sweet!
I also purchased some long underwear from Lands End along with the jackets. Ok, can I just say that they have come a long way since 1984? At that time, the only thing available for me (ahem, was affordable to dad) was the waffle-weave type in Men's sizes. Looking back, they were clearly too tight or not sized right in general because I remember wrestling with the bottoms at the end of every run, wrestling to keep them up to my waist and yet not bagging in the crotch. Yuck. These here modern "silk underwear" are thin, stretchy and fit correctly and closely to the body but without being tight. Who knew?
The last two things on my list are gloves and a beanie. Those I can get from an actual sports store and will probably be from a cool brand (yay!!) such as Burton, Da Kine, whatever. I told you I was vain.
Oh, and just so you know... I'm Facebook friends with Jonnel now after having messaged her to say that I saw her on the X Games in the 90's and was really impressed by seeing her success.
Age 10: A solid Intermediate level skier, I'd happily graduated to doing stemming/skidding turns and self-imposed time trials on my favorite runs.
Age 13: Stopped skiing because puberty hit and I could no longer fit in my ski clothes, nor could I find any new ones in my dad's price range that I would be ok being seen in.
Age 17: Went skiing with my BFF for the first time in four years wearing jeans and a casual jacket (froze my ass off). Ended the day thinking I was going to die of bruising and muscle aches, and swore off any future skiing.
Age 25: Heavily intoxicated while watching the Winter X Games on TV with my roommates, Jonnel Janewicz crosses the screen as one of the contenders of Women's Snowboarder X. I attended school with Jonnel from pre-school through high school graduation, was in the Girl Scouts with her in 6th grade, and she, eh... really wasn't so nice to me. Seeing her success as an athlete and cool snowboarder chick threw me into a shame spiral of epic proportions, and I decided I was going to learn how to snowboard. Lack of funds, motivation and courage prevented this goal from coming to fruition.
Age 32: Honey Bunny talks me into going on a trip to his favorite resort to get snowboarding lessons while he skis. A month prior I find appropriate and not-completely-unfortunate snow gear for fat girls at Junonia, and HB orders it for me as a gift. As luck would have it, it was a warm winter and the resort closed the weekend before our trip.
Ages 33 - 36: Honey Bunny tries, unsuccessfully, each winter to talk me into going skiing or snowboarding with him. I give him various excuses each year.
Age 37: THERE'S NO GETTING OUT OF IT THIS YEAR.
I'll set the stage for you. Last week, HB announced he was going to go skiing on the weekend, and asked if I was coming with him or not. I said no. He asked why. I didn't have a great answer, and an argument ensued about my phyiscal and emotional readiness - or not - for snow sports. He left on the weekend to go skiing while I stayed home to play out my requisite secret single behaviors (usually involves a super veggie burrito with extra hot green sauce and a giant lemony Diet Coke from Zona Rosa while catching up on all the "chick shows" backlogged in my DV-R).
Just about to embark on my shopping marathon at the Union Square Macy's on Saturday (a not-so-secret, not-so-single behavior, but nevertheless fun to do while Man is out of town), I grabbed my coat from the hall closet... the same hall closet where the Junonia snow clothes have been stored since five years ago when they were purchased. I saw them hanging there - lonely, dusty, rejected - and wondered why I was being so resistant. I took off my nice shopping clothes and tried them on, right there and then.
Once I had the clothes on, I could picture myself at least trying to learn (snowboarding) or remember (skiing). One of the biggest reasons behind creating this blog was to push the notion that no fat girl should be afraid to TRY... to try something new, to try something scary, to try something that fat people don't normally try purely because they're fat. Little by little, my resistance was worn down as I stood there and stared in the mirror at myself in that snow suit, and tried to visualize having a good time trying something new.
So, I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna suit up and rent equipment and take a lesson and see how it goes. Not sure if it's skiing or snowboarding I'm gonna do, but I'll figure it out sometime in the next month.
Not before tending to a little business, however... the business known as vanity. As I told HB upon his return, there are two levels of comfort for me: the comfort of knowing I look ok, and actual comfort. The snow pants he got me are great on all levels. The jacket is... not.
I got to quick work on the internet (eg. the only place a fat chick can purchase sport-specific gear for anything other than the gym). Thank god Eddie Bauer, LL Bean and Lands End carry plus sizes because I actually found six jackets that would work. I can't help but think about five years ago and the now-unfortunate snow jacket I got, and how it was literally the ONLY thing available at that time, internet or not.
In the end, I whittled it down to two jackets, and decided to have both shipped thinking I'd return the one that didn't work. They both arrived yesterday and are both just lovely. So lovely, in fact, that Honey Bunny said I should keep both. The SnowPack 700 is a lightweight option, good for hanging out in cold and/or snow in general, especially good for warmer slope days and when/if I get better and need less padding. It also has a nice fitted shape to it and is strangely flattering. I got it in Persian Blue, although am quite tempted to exchange for the Bright Raspberry. Hmmm.
The SnowRoller is The Works, by comparison. It's not as fitted or flattering but is quite warm, has lots of pockets and ways to customize the fit both inside and out, and has the added benefit of looking, shape-wise anyhow, most like the regular size snowboard chick-wear. I got it in Ice Blue. As Honey Bunny also had me try on the original Junonia jacket (just because it's tough, thick and uber warm) and it didn't look so bad by comparison, he convinced me not to eBay it. It's also in the powder blue range. In toto, that makes three powder blue jackets: one light, one medium, one heavy. Sweet!
I also purchased some long underwear from Lands End along with the jackets. Ok, can I just say that they have come a long way since 1984? At that time, the only thing available for me (ahem, was affordable to dad) was the waffle-weave type in Men's sizes. Looking back, they were clearly too tight or not sized right in general because I remember wrestling with the bottoms at the end of every run, wrestling to keep them up to my waist and yet not bagging in the crotch. Yuck. These here modern "silk underwear" are thin, stretchy and fit correctly and closely to the body but without being tight. Who knew?
The last two things on my list are gloves and a beanie. Those I can get from an actual sports store and will probably be from a cool brand (yay!!) such as Burton, Da Kine, whatever. I told you I was vain.
Oh, and just so you know... I'm Facebook friends with Jonnel now after having messaged her to say that I saw her on the X Games in the 90's and was really impressed by seeing her success.
Wholly offensive
Yahoo's Shine is just brimming with interesting information, it seems. When I was digging through the archives to find links for my last post, I came across this one:
Should your employer offer incentives for losing weight? Whole Foods does
GASP.
I can't figure out what is more offensive -- the fact that Whole Foods offers incrementally more % of an employee discount to those who have a BMI of <30, or that their CEO fully admits it has everything to do with reducing health care costs of the company (and, presumably, nothing to do with the actual health of the employees). I keep thinking, Could he have at least made some attempt at spin in this situation? (Although I generally hate spin, especially from companies who do almost $5 billion in annual sales. And yes, sometimes I forego my values in favor of being reactionary.)
Also of note in this article: "Research indicates that companies with employees who are fit and healthy do have a better bottom line." OMG.
When I told Honey Bunny about all this last night, in addition to interjecting the question "Has anyone sued them yet?" about 14 times during the course of my story, he concluded by saying, "The difference between a 20% and 30% discount isn't really a big deal when you're buying a $25 bottle of laundry detergent to begin with." Heh.
Again with the reactionary: I'm now boycotting Whole Foods. Let's see how long I can hold out, given that they're my go-to for all the crap our co-op doesn't offer.
Should your employer offer incentives for losing weight? Whole Foods does
GASP.
I can't figure out what is more offensive -- the fact that Whole Foods offers incrementally more % of an employee discount to those who have a BMI of <30, or that their CEO fully admits it has everything to do with reducing health care costs of the company (and, presumably, nothing to do with the actual health of the employees). I keep thinking, Could he have at least made some attempt at spin in this situation? (Although I generally hate spin, especially from companies who do almost $5 billion in annual sales. And yes, sometimes I forego my values in favor of being reactionary.)
Also of note in this article: "Research indicates that companies with employees who are fit and healthy do have a better bottom line." OMG.
When I told Honey Bunny about all this last night, in addition to interjecting the question "Has anyone sued them yet?" about 14 times during the course of my story, he concluded by saying, "The difference between a 20% and 30% discount isn't really a big deal when you're buying a $25 bottle of laundry detergent to begin with." Heh.
Again with the reactionary: I'm now boycotting Whole Foods. Let's see how long I can hold out, given that they're my go-to for all the crap our co-op doesn't offer.
10 February 2010
Jerri Gray's responsibility
I've been thinking about this article ever since I came across it:
Where do parents fit in the childhood obesity puzzle?
For starters I always love the inevitable accompanying photo of a really fat person - so fat that s/he is seemingly bursting at the seams - with these articles. [Sarcasm.] The fat person is always shown from the back or, if from the front, from the neck or waist down, presumably to preserve the person's anonymity. I especially love the one with this article since it's a fat child surrounded by several other fat children at the pool, everyone in bathing suits.
That said, I actually liked the content of the article and thought it made some good points. I got to it because I read this piece and also this one, about Alexander Draper being removed from his home and mother and put in foster care. Social services asserts his mother was being medically neglectful by not tending to her son's severe obesity.
This is one of those rare cases where an interest of mine (fatism) collides with my work world (child welfare). While I'm not a social worker myself, I've been orbiting in the public social services world for long enough to have an informed opinion.
To address that particular area: it is one of the most traumatic experiences for a child to be removed from his/her home, and it "should" only happen if there is an immediate and compelling safety issue at hand. Obesity, to me, doesn't qualify here. It is a compelling risk that can be managed (starting immediately) by social services while still keeping the child in his home. Unfortunately, Alexander's mother, Jerri Gray, fled the state with him upon learning that she was being investigated for neglect and thus, we have the makings of a safety issue for the child, and he was removed from her care when Jerri and Alexander resurfaced. It's just too bad that reports from news outlets are failing to mention this key plot twist in favor of sensationalism about childhood obesity and criminality.
Allow me, for just a moment, to indulge in being even more of a card-carrying member of the PC Police. Here we have a single Black mother who was working the equivalent of 2-3 jobs to make ends meet, and who said she'd bring home fast food for dinner because there was no time to cook. Let's assume that if she's working 2-3 jobs she's probably financially strapped as well, and fast food is cheap. Fast food chains also tend to be prevalent in low income neighborhoods and especially where there are populations of color, and therefore those populations tend to have health and/or weight problems as a result. There is also a huge problem in the US with disproportionality, with predominantly Black families in the child welfare system. Can you say "vicious circle"?
The point of the original article was to explore the question: if adults must always accept personal responsibility for being fat, then who bears the responsibility for a child being fat? I've often wondered that myself, especially as Honey Bunny and I have been trying to have a kid. Because I'm fat and have been so since childhood (and HB carries a bit extra himself), does that mean we're destined to have a fat kid? Because I don't have great exercise habits myself, will I care less about making sure my kid has an active lifestyle?
I think of my friend Gina and her daughter Chloe. Gina is petite in every way but I would never characterize her as "active". While she does enjoy some occasional snowboarding in winter and casual bike rides in the summer, she doesn't go to the gym or to yoga or anything like that. In fact, she eschews "working out" because it's not enjoyable to her. But yet, Chloe has been active in soccer and softball since she was about five years old, and at Gina's behest. Chloe likes those particular sports too, of course, otherwise Gina says she would find something else for Chloe to do. Chloe is now 13 and I've known her since she was four; Gina's got some years of parenting under her belt, and I plan to steal several of her methods (up to and including taking my kid to rock shows, Burning Man and various other events typically for adults that a kid could really enjoy). In the end, I don't know that parents manifesting the athleticism they'd like to see in their kids is what kids need to see in order to integrate being active into their own lives. I could be wrong, though.
On a different and last note, I have to say that the comments section of these types of online articles always really horrify me. There is a lot of judgement, and some outright hatred, for fat and fat people. It makes me wonder: what about being fat is so inexcusable?
Where do parents fit in the childhood obesity puzzle?
For starters I always love the inevitable accompanying photo of a really fat person - so fat that s/he is seemingly bursting at the seams - with these articles. [Sarcasm.] The fat person is always shown from the back or, if from the front, from the neck or waist down, presumably to preserve the person's anonymity. I especially love the one with this article since it's a fat child surrounded by several other fat children at the pool, everyone in bathing suits.
That said, I actually liked the content of the article and thought it made some good points. I got to it because I read this piece and also this one, about Alexander Draper being removed from his home and mother and put in foster care. Social services asserts his mother was being medically neglectful by not tending to her son's severe obesity.
This is one of those rare cases where an interest of mine (fatism) collides with my work world (child welfare). While I'm not a social worker myself, I've been orbiting in the public social services world for long enough to have an informed opinion.
To address that particular area: it is one of the most traumatic experiences for a child to be removed from his/her home, and it "should" only happen if there is an immediate and compelling safety issue at hand. Obesity, to me, doesn't qualify here. It is a compelling risk that can be managed (starting immediately) by social services while still keeping the child in his home. Unfortunately, Alexander's mother, Jerri Gray, fled the state with him upon learning that she was being investigated for neglect and thus, we have the makings of a safety issue for the child, and he was removed from her care when Jerri and Alexander resurfaced. It's just too bad that reports from news outlets are failing to mention this key plot twist in favor of sensationalism about childhood obesity and criminality.
Allow me, for just a moment, to indulge in being even more of a card-carrying member of the PC Police. Here we have a single Black mother who was working the equivalent of 2-3 jobs to make ends meet, and who said she'd bring home fast food for dinner because there was no time to cook. Let's assume that if she's working 2-3 jobs she's probably financially strapped as well, and fast food is cheap. Fast food chains also tend to be prevalent in low income neighborhoods and especially where there are populations of color, and therefore those populations tend to have health and/or weight problems as a result. There is also a huge problem in the US with disproportionality, with predominantly Black families in the child welfare system. Can you say "vicious circle"?
The point of the original article was to explore the question: if adults must always accept personal responsibility for being fat, then who bears the responsibility for a child being fat? I've often wondered that myself, especially as Honey Bunny and I have been trying to have a kid. Because I'm fat and have been so since childhood (and HB carries a bit extra himself), does that mean we're destined to have a fat kid? Because I don't have great exercise habits myself, will I care less about making sure my kid has an active lifestyle?
I think of my friend Gina and her daughter Chloe. Gina is petite in every way but I would never characterize her as "active". While she does enjoy some occasional snowboarding in winter and casual bike rides in the summer, she doesn't go to the gym or to yoga or anything like that. In fact, she eschews "working out" because it's not enjoyable to her. But yet, Chloe has been active in soccer and softball since she was about five years old, and at Gina's behest. Chloe likes those particular sports too, of course, otherwise Gina says she would find something else for Chloe to do. Chloe is now 13 and I've known her since she was four; Gina's got some years of parenting under her belt, and I plan to steal several of her methods (up to and including taking my kid to rock shows, Burning Man and various other events typically for adults that a kid could really enjoy). In the end, I don't know that parents manifesting the athleticism they'd like to see in their kids is what kids need to see in order to integrate being active into their own lives. I could be wrong, though.
On a different and last note, I have to say that the comments section of these types of online articles always really horrify me. There is a lot of judgement, and some outright hatred, for fat and fat people. It makes me wonder: what about being fat is so inexcusable?
11 January 2010
what comes next
I decided to get the title of this posting as a tattoo written across the underside of my left forearm. It will be always be there to remind me to think about what comes next. Or, to remind myself that I don't know what the hell comes next and that there is power in that.
Life has challenged me greatly in the past few months on this topic. For starters, there was the "intervention" by Yoga Trainer in early October. That did far less for me on a physical level than it did on a mental one, in case you're wondering. At the time I was envisioning that I was mere days away from finalizing a weight loss plan that would be perfect! and would work! and that I would be happy to do!, blah blah blah. All I have to say to myself three months later is, "Seriously?" It was far from a write-off or failure, though.
It got me thinking about the goals that I could set and achieve for myself, should I be ready and willing to do so. Admitting that I'm not necessarily ready or willing NOW was the hard part. Yoga Trainer has always been extremely pushy when it comes to my needing to set goals for myself. Having told him numerous times that I don't "do" goals, he decided to start setting them on my behalf. And, I always resignedly agreed to them, knowing that I'd walk out of the studio and likely not follow through. And, I'd return a week later and he'd ask me how my goal was going and I'd say "not so great" and he'd get irked and then spend the next $90 of my time trying to get me back on the path to righteousness. It took until mid-December, when YT turned his crosshairs on Honey Bunny instead of me, that I saw how he was setting us ALL up for failure. Yoga Trainer is a great guy and an incredible athlete, but I'm not sure he is as savvy in human relations as he thinks he is. (DUH. Look no further than how he said what he said to me in early October which in retrospect is kind of, well, fucked!)
We have actually not seen YT in awhile. Things got weird. Not only did my dysfunctional pattern with him come to light, his ego pushed Honey Bunny's to the point of literally walking out of a session. Yoga Trainer's three week vacation is now going on five weeks long, so I'm not sure if we are in mutual avoidance mode or what. I'm amenable to going back, but things need to change. I've been thinking a lot about what I need to say to him, and how to say it, and why.
Overall, Honey Bunny and I have had a rough winter together. It's a long and private story but I will say this: after three weeks of a perpetual battle to keep my head above water, there was a moment. I was so completely defeated by the situation and had done everything I could possibly think to do to right it. The next thing that popped into my head was, "I don't know what comes next," and I started to bawl. In telling my therapist about it after the fact, she said she felt that was a very profound moment for me, in which I needed to give up power and control and to be open to letting whatever needed to happen happen without my intervention. I think she's right. Within 10 minutes of admitting my powerlessness over the situation, it started to turn for the better. We're getting there. I don't have all the answers or solutions, which is the way it should be.
Part of our winter has included acclimating to new cats. They moved in in mid-October and it's been a hard adjustment period. We previously had a very mellow, very independent and aging kitty who was one of the loves of my life, and who passed away fairly suddenly in November 2008. My grief was so intense and daily after she died. I'd had 13 years of taking care of my beautiful cat and it was quite a process getting used to her not being there anymore. Every morning for a couple months I would wake up and think I'd hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors, coming to jump on the bed to snuggle with me... but she was no longer there. Just walking through the pet food aisle at the grocery store was torture, knowing I had no kitty to get food for. No feeding her. No scooping her box. No taking her to the backyard on weekends. But most importantly, no way to show love to a physical presence (although her spiritual presence is quite strong). I was so sad, angry, bitter, grief-stricken for so long. Until one day I realized that I no longer automatically looked for her in the morning, no longer cried after being around other people and their pets, and in fact, felt some relief when HB and I went on our annual summer vacation and I didn't have to get a cat sitter for the first time in 13 years. Not that I didn't miss her, because I did and I do and I probably always will. Because, for fuck's sake, grief is the ultimate "I don't know what comes next".
I grew accustomed to having some independence from my apartment and having to take care of another being, while at the same time feeling like something was missing from my life. Our friend's cat had kittens "accidentally" in July, and we asked if we could take two of them. I had such a mellow experience with my previous cat, why not have two... right? They grew up with their mom at home, and then moved in with us three months later.
They are the cutest little cats, playful and sweet and snuggly. One, or both, also has a peeing problem. At this point, all three chairs and the sofa in my living room have been peed on, as well as the bathtub, a small area rug, and almost every new toy they got for Christmas. Yes, the problem is medical for the most part, but there is a behavioral component to it that has to be tended to. I have been schooled by several vets on what to do and right now - and for an undetermined length of time - our bathtub has 2" of water in it, our living room reeks of vinegar (from treatments to get the pee out) and vinyl (vinyl carpet runners cut up to size/shape of the seating it's on, teeth side up), the bedroom is completely off limits, and they are contained in the back half of our apt while we are not at home and at bedtime. I literally don't know what comes next with them and the peeing and when they will be able to have free reign of the house again, if ever. On my worst days, it has propelled me into panic attacks and I have needed to consider finding a new home for one or both. On my best days, it's simply an adventure and a challenge. As long as I don't try to look too far forward and remember that there is no one hard and fast solution, I'm good. As long as I can remember the great and rewarding things about having cats, I'm good.
I will always wish I had that crystal ball to see what comes next and when. Instead, all I can do is take a deep breath and move forward and know that "what comes next" is only partially determined by me.
*****
UPDATE 1/12/10: Yoga Trainer called literally 10 minutes after I posted this and asked to talk in length about our relationship going forward. I don't think he's a reader, but who knows!
Life has challenged me greatly in the past few months on this topic. For starters, there was the "intervention" by Yoga Trainer in early October. That did far less for me on a physical level than it did on a mental one, in case you're wondering. At the time I was envisioning that I was mere days away from finalizing a weight loss plan that would be perfect! and would work! and that I would be happy to do!, blah blah blah. All I have to say to myself three months later is, "Seriously?" It was far from a write-off or failure, though.
It got me thinking about the goals that I could set and achieve for myself, should I be ready and willing to do so. Admitting that I'm not necessarily ready or willing NOW was the hard part. Yoga Trainer has always been extremely pushy when it comes to my needing to set goals for myself. Having told him numerous times that I don't "do" goals, he decided to start setting them on my behalf. And, I always resignedly agreed to them, knowing that I'd walk out of the studio and likely not follow through. And, I'd return a week later and he'd ask me how my goal was going and I'd say "not so great" and he'd get irked and then spend the next $90 of my time trying to get me back on the path to righteousness. It took until mid-December, when YT turned his crosshairs on Honey Bunny instead of me, that I saw how he was setting us ALL up for failure. Yoga Trainer is a great guy and an incredible athlete, but I'm not sure he is as savvy in human relations as he thinks he is. (DUH. Look no further than how he said what he said to me in early October which in retrospect is kind of, well, fucked!)
We have actually not seen YT in awhile. Things got weird. Not only did my dysfunctional pattern with him come to light, his ego pushed Honey Bunny's to the point of literally walking out of a session. Yoga Trainer's three week vacation is now going on five weeks long, so I'm not sure if we are in mutual avoidance mode or what. I'm amenable to going back, but things need to change. I've been thinking a lot about what I need to say to him, and how to say it, and why.
Overall, Honey Bunny and I have had a rough winter together. It's a long and private story but I will say this: after three weeks of a perpetual battle to keep my head above water, there was a moment. I was so completely defeated by the situation and had done everything I could possibly think to do to right it. The next thing that popped into my head was, "I don't know what comes next," and I started to bawl. In telling my therapist about it after the fact, she said she felt that was a very profound moment for me, in which I needed to give up power and control and to be open to letting whatever needed to happen happen without my intervention. I think she's right. Within 10 minutes of admitting my powerlessness over the situation, it started to turn for the better. We're getting there. I don't have all the answers or solutions, which is the way it should be.
Part of our winter has included acclimating to new cats. They moved in in mid-October and it's been a hard adjustment period. We previously had a very mellow, very independent and aging kitty who was one of the loves of my life, and who passed away fairly suddenly in November 2008. My grief was so intense and daily after she died. I'd had 13 years of taking care of my beautiful cat and it was quite a process getting used to her not being there anymore. Every morning for a couple months I would wake up and think I'd hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors, coming to jump on the bed to snuggle with me... but she was no longer there. Just walking through the pet food aisle at the grocery store was torture, knowing I had no kitty to get food for. No feeding her. No scooping her box. No taking her to the backyard on weekends. But most importantly, no way to show love to a physical presence (although her spiritual presence is quite strong). I was so sad, angry, bitter, grief-stricken for so long. Until one day I realized that I no longer automatically looked for her in the morning, no longer cried after being around other people and their pets, and in fact, felt some relief when HB and I went on our annual summer vacation and I didn't have to get a cat sitter for the first time in 13 years. Not that I didn't miss her, because I did and I do and I probably always will. Because, for fuck's sake, grief is the ultimate "I don't know what comes next".
I grew accustomed to having some independence from my apartment and having to take care of another being, while at the same time feeling like something was missing from my life. Our friend's cat had kittens "accidentally" in July, and we asked if we could take two of them. I had such a mellow experience with my previous cat, why not have two... right? They grew up with their mom at home, and then moved in with us three months later.
They are the cutest little cats, playful and sweet and snuggly. One, or both, also has a peeing problem. At this point, all three chairs and the sofa in my living room have been peed on, as well as the bathtub, a small area rug, and almost every new toy they got for Christmas. Yes, the problem is medical for the most part, but there is a behavioral component to it that has to be tended to. I have been schooled by several vets on what to do and right now - and for an undetermined length of time - our bathtub has 2" of water in it, our living room reeks of vinegar (from treatments to get the pee out) and vinyl (vinyl carpet runners cut up to size/shape of the seating it's on, teeth side up), the bedroom is completely off limits, and they are contained in the back half of our apt while we are not at home and at bedtime. I literally don't know what comes next with them and the peeing and when they will be able to have free reign of the house again, if ever. On my worst days, it has propelled me into panic attacks and I have needed to consider finding a new home for one or both. On my best days, it's simply an adventure and a challenge. As long as I don't try to look too far forward and remember that there is no one hard and fast solution, I'm good. As long as I can remember the great and rewarding things about having cats, I'm good.
I will always wish I had that crystal ball to see what comes next and when. Instead, all I can do is take a deep breath and move forward and know that "what comes next" is only partially determined by me.
*****
UPDATE 1/12/10: Yoga Trainer called literally 10 minutes after I posted this and asked to talk in length about our relationship going forward. I don't think he's a reader, but who knows!
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