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.
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