Making and Breaking Rules

. . . So, the starting over and doing Phase 1 for a week (the week technically doesn't end till tomorrow) to kick myself back into shape and good discipline. Yeah, it didn't happen.

In a general sense, I feel like I'm doing better than failing entirely, but I don't feel good about what I'm doing. I'm making rules that I follow most of the time. It helps when people know the rules and could (by observation) keep tabs on me and make a judgment if I break a rule. Accountability is something I haven't always held myself to - but I don't keep the rules if no one is holding me accountable. I can convince the person watching that I will be OK if I break this rule this once, and since they are usually different people, I can also convince them that it really is only this once - which makes me feel like I'm being incredibly secretive and dishonest, but also that it REALLY is just this ONCE. That's kind of ugly. And I feel like beating myself up about it.

Phase 2 has so much fruit and grain in it that when I think about following it closely, I panic a little - though I understand that fruit and grains are important. So I decided, last Sunday with Doug's assistance, to eat one serving of grain per day (tennis ball size) and 1 serving of fruit per day until Sunday Feb 28.

On Wednesday, I skipped my therapy appointment to spend time with Doug in town. We went to Blue Plate. Doug and I had a serious conversation about whether or not I should eat that bun and those fries - he said he never knows what will happen to me. Sometimes I'm fine, and sometimes it puts me in a funk for a week - Grumpy, Sad, Introverted. I convinced us both I would be fine. On Wednesday while I was eating that bun and those fries with my burger, I felt fine. While driving home, I felt fine about it. No guilt, no self abuse, no problem. But when we got home, all I wanted was more and more and more and more sugar - I ate a lot of fruit mostly, but that's when the problems started over again. Doug was really onto something, but I didn't understand exactly what until this morning.

I picked up a copy of "When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies" by Jane Hirschmann and Carol Munter several months ago. My roommate said it was incredibly influential in her life when she was in her twenties. This morning I read the preface, and am now only on the 2nd page of the introduction and it hit me . . .

It's not so much that I shouldn't eat refined sugar and high starch foods because of the guilt (that's part of it) . . . but because refined sugar makes me crave more sugar for several days afterward. Those cravings are my body in action . . . blood sugar rising and falling, insulin resistance, etc. Which is where my diet comes into play - to avoid pre-diabetes I have to prevent that from happening and cure my insulin resistance.

About two days after a refined sugar and potato indiscretion, I find myself not just slipping down the slope, but skiing!!! Not with freedom of will and desire - joyfully and with love for good food, but ANGRILY, obsessively, with self-loathing, fear, panic - with outright HATRED that I cannot control myself. I start to feel AGAIN! that I am a bad, immoral person.

I do things like drink coffee in the morning and then, panicked about what a bad person I am, I try not to think about food at all . . . before I know it, it's 1:30 in the afternoon, I've been on the phone all day doing project work, my email is piling up and suddenly all the people who couldn't reach me in the morning are calling. I'm desperate, hysterical, hungry, stressed out to the max and I reach for what is available to me - 2 slices of a pepperoni pizza that my co-worker ordered from Dominos.

The problem is NOT just blowing my diet, but food obsession, and self-loathing. I can see in me now a need to protect my health, but also a need to treat the behavioral issues that continue coming up. I don't want to do this anymore. And I feel like I've said this before. I'm glad it is back in front of me.

The preface of this book talks about a "non-diet approach" allowing these women to find out how to eat what their bodies actually need; allowing these women to learn to speak to themselves with compassion. "When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies" says that women use "dieting and body hatred to cope with the central issues of their lives" to a great extent.

Because my health is on the line, I don't feel like I can say no to dieting and body hatred like these women have - I've only just started to diet. But I choose to read this book with an open mind. Another sentence says that "women have a way of saying: 'We want to free ourselves from body hatred and dieting, but who will we be without them?" It sounds familiar.

Doug asked me once, and says in other words every time I get super intense about something that shouldn't matter, "Are you ever going to be ok with being ok?" I would be lying if I said that today the answer is yes - I am ok with being ok. After he posed this question to me the first few times it occurred to me - I've called myself a "Self Actualizer" and it is one of the things I strive for - constantly wanting to be a better and better version of myself. Who would I be if I weren't working on an issue?

Part of me doesn't want to "work" on this at all. I want to just be 'foot loose and fancy free'. I want to eat whatever I want in amounts as big as I'd like - but I only want that if the consequences go away - no self-loathing, and no risk of diabetic coma!

So instead I commit to not setting myself up on that slippery slope in the first place. Especially when I see a little bit of success. That back-slide I do when I feel like "you did it" is part of the trouble. Rewarding myself for losing weight by eating a brownie is not a good idea. Martha Beck would say it's the wrong decision if it feels like it takes my freedom away, and this feels like hell, but I think once the sugar craving goes away (probably by tomorrow or the day after) I'll get my freedom back.

I want to work on this. I want to resolve it. I want to get to a place where, if it comes up again, I'll know how to speak to myself and to others with compassion. That feels good.

P.S. if anyone has any ideas about how to make chicken and beef more exciting (without breading) please let me know because if I have to eat another grilled chicken breast, I'm going to puke.

Harder Than I Thought

Contrary to intentions set in my previous post - rule changing did NOT go very well. I don't like the guilt, or that I'm gaining instead of losing, and I don't like feeling like a total failure. I've decided to do Phase 1 of South Beach for the next week starting today.

I liked being able to feel my blood sugar rise and fall - it was all the indicator I needed when making food choices. So it's also back to the book to read up a little and remind myself what I'm up to in the first place.

It's 7 weeks and 3 days to get to 135 from 148.

Doug has agreed to help me hold myself accountable - he also promised to be gentle, and we are both going into this hoping that I won't fly off the handle :)

Starting Over

Geez Louise!!! time for an update, and to come clean about my progress :)

Just about Christmas-time, I jumped off the South Beach Diet Wagon . . . as it was on a bridge over a river. I swam downstream until I was several miles away before getting out and I didn't look back. I'd made it to 154 pounds or something from 162 in the two weeks before Thanksgiving. Without any bathroom scale evidence I believe I gained it all back by New Year. Dieting over the holidays requires a lot of self discipline. I felt at that time like I either needed to stick to the diet every day, or give myself permission not to, and relinquish any and all guilt for giving myself that permission. (I think this first picture was taken in November after some of my first results were reached, before jumping off the wagon).

In hind-sight, it feels really good to see that it takes less time to lose 10 pounds than it does to gain it back, but there's a slippery slope involved. There came a time when I could no longer feel my blood-pressure elevate. Once that happened it was only a brief matter of time until I was no longer monitoring what, or how much of it I was eating.

I decided I would start over at Phase 1 as soon as Little B was back with his mom in Colorado Springs. Then it was going to be as soon as about $100 worth of groceries that South Beach would call "bad" were gone - I just don't have the money to throw it away. Then it was going to be . . . guilt started adding up. One day a co-worker and I got on the subject and he told me that he would do it with me to be my support and to take advantage of the same kind of results he'd seen in me the first time around. The moral of this story is just get on with it dammit!!!

I've sort-of stopped keeping track of where in the diet I am, but I started-over something like 4 or 5 weeks ago. My weight is down to 144 to 146 pounds and has been since last week. I haven't weighed this "little" since junior high and most of high school!!! My goal is to get to 135 before my birthday on April 20.

According to the South Beach Diet, if I'm not still losing a pound or two per week on Phase 2, I'm eating too much sugar. It's definitely the case that I'm floating instead of losing. I've done some pretty serious self reflection and I've made some decisions . . .

(This second photograph was taken yesterday before a haircut. Notice compared to the previous one how slender my face looks around my jawline) I think that South Beach is a phenomenal program. I'm in a little bit in disbelief. My clothes fit great, my skin is getting clearer and clearer every day. I want to just say "Eff SB" and make my own commitments. I feel like I understand what my body needs and wants. But I also feel like it will be safer to follow the guidelines. Once I hit that 135, I will be comfortable making my own rules if I can maintain that weight. 16 - 18 pounds!!!!

So I'm going to follow the guidelines of phase 2, but this week I'm going to avoid any baked goods that I didn't make for myself (including crackers and even the Spelt bread that I'm liking so much) to see what kind of impact that has. I feel like they are what has slowed me down. I'm also going to limit myself to 2 servings of fruit per day, one cup of brown or wild rice or whole wheat pasta per meal per day, and increase my dairy intake. No potato, no more than one sweet potato per week, no corn, peas sparingly. I'm going to add some nuts to the mix and increase my water intake . . . and here's the hard one - get some effing exercise because while I am losing weight without exercise, it would feel so much better!!

I also feel like I am now the only person holding me accountable - and that makes it easy to "break the rules". I hate feeling guilty for it later - HATE feeling guilty. I'm committing this morning to stick with it. I want a bikini body . . . and I feel like I can have it. Thankfully mine doesn't look like any VS models, just like a healthy woman who isn't carrying any extra weight around. I hope my boobs don't disappear or get droopy.

I can see the changes on my body and so far, the "saddle bags" on the outer/back side of my thighs are smaller. The lumps of "chubby" on my hips are less, I think my hips will have a smooth line at 135 pounds. The little pooch on my belly is shrinking. My inner thighs are smaller too, and the chubby on my upper arms is something I haven't even noticed for a while - perhaps it is gone.

I don't want to advocate for "Lose weight to improve your self worth". I want to advocate for eating in the way that is best for your body. It's eating in a way my body really responds to that makes me feel good - the weight loss is a bonus for knowing that if I stick with it, I won't develop diabetes. I'm not too worried about the other symptoms of PCOS and my family history. I feel that if I can avoid adult onset diabetes, I will be healthy for the rest of my life. How's that for feeling good?

I took this third picture last night before going to bed. Like my new haircut?

Happy Red Hearts Day! I intend, this evening, to eat some nibbles of dark chocolate (70%) made from beans grown in Guatemala. I suspect it will go perfectly with my sweetheart, some perfectly ripe strawberries, and my favorite Champagne (Francis Coppola's "Sophia"). For the record, my bathroom scale and I are great friends.

So Far . . . Much better than I expected.

I am nearing week 4 of South Beach diet. I blew it on Thanksgiving of course, and am still not totally on the wagon yet, but I feel good. I have clothes that fit me better than they have for a while. My boyfriend and roommate insist I'm smaller than usual - I can't really see it, but I trust them :)

It's pretty exciting!

Unbearable Beginnings

A little over a week ago, I discovered that I have something called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). With PCOS comes insulin resistance which could lead to pre-diabetes, and eventually diabetes. There are increased risks of various cardiovascular issues, and hormonal imbalance issues such as - acne (untreatable - got it), weight gain (uh-huh), abnormal hair growth (rogue hairs in various places), skin discoloration (that looks like the skin has little dirty patches - I always thought those were birth marks). Women with PCOS may struggle to get pregnant when the time comes - or experience repeat miscarriage (although most pregnancies are normal in PCOS women once they do conceive). I've got the irregular menstrual cycle down pat. PCOS also increases my risk of a few types of cancers like breast cancer, uterine and ovarian cancer, and increases my risk of complications with the endometrium.

It isn't an incredibly frightening diagnosis for me because as it turns out the syndrome is pretty common. The treatment includes birth control and a healthy diet of veggies, proteins, fruits, and good carbs - eliminating simple carbs like white bread, white pasta, white rice, etc. and instead eating - in moderation - their less processed and higher fiber content wielding cousins like sweet potatoes, brown or wild rice, and whole grain breads. I am grateful to finally have found a reason for the acne that will not go away!!!

On Monday, November 16, 2009 - I started The South Beach Diet at the advice of my physician. I am 5'4 inches tall and weigh 160 pounds - I'm between 20 and 40 pounds overweight for my height, though nothing but my height has been taken into consideration with that number. My goal weight is 135 - ten pounds less than I weighed throughout high school. I want to be clear with myself, with my peers, my friends and cohorts, and my family - this is NOT about weight loss (the added benefit); this is about avoiding diabetes which I have a family history of, and managing my hormonal imbalance. At least that's now I felt when I chose to start this diet.

South Beach is split up into three phases - the first is meant to reset blood chemistry and end cravings for foods that cause my blood sugar to rise rapidly and then plummet - causing desire for more of the same. I've learned a great deal about things I've always wanted to know like: What happens inside my body when I eat certain things. and What that means in the big picture. What I should eat and what I shouldn't . . . I've always suspected that I eat too many refined sugars and starches - here were the reasons why. When first prescribed, this diet excited me because it felt like I finally had guidance in a positive direction regarding my food choices - like a $15 nutritionist.

In phase 1 you aren't to have any sugar or anything that metabolizes quickly to sugar - essentially, no grains, no potatoes of any kind, no fruit, and certainly no candy, fruit juice, soda, ice cream, baked goods, etc. remember, remember - it's about blood sugar and insulin. This phase lasts for two weeks, for me that means 11/09 - 11/23.

The first day went great until I did my grocery shopping after work. By the time Doug and I were checking out of our second grocery store I had looked at all the foods I love to eat - instant oatmeal, Backyard BBQ Kettle Chips, corn, rice, pasta, Annie's cheddar bunnies, breakfast cereals and granola bars - even the things that have a little bit of glucose holding the most wholesome of nuts, dried apricot, and coconut flakes together in little bars of heaven - and feeling like I had been wrong all my life. Food as a moral dilemma of right and wrong is not a new concept to me, but I had never felt it like this before. On day two the melancholy started to sink into my deep places.

Day three came to a head when I walked into my therapist, Margo's office. I sat down feeling sad and angry and I started to cry more hysterically than I ever have before - I had been hungry all day - something South Beach promised I would not feel, also deprivation was not supposed to be part of this life change. I felt punished - like potatoes were going to send me directly to hell and if I wanted to be a good girl, I had better not eat them.

All I wanted was two slices of buttered toast, a baked potato with butter, sour cream, salt, and pepper, with a piece of sirloin steak, and grilled asparagus. I wanted it with all my existence, but I also did not want to fail.

When I got into the car with Doug to go home, I said I needed to think about my session and aside from bitching about the halogen bulbs in the headlights of the truck that followed close behind me most of the way home - I said nothing, He said nothing.

I put on my pajamas and sat down looking at him across the room. I was ready to just go to bed, hungry, sad, and discouraged when I said to him that I felt like I was being punished. Tears began again. I felt ashamed of myself - this felt harder than quitting smoking. He came over and he held me until I was finished - wiping tears from my face, kissing my cheeks - he looked me in the eye with an expression that said "it's ok, you're ok", and offered to fix me something to eat.

I made hummus, he heated some soup for me and made himself some dinner. We ate, got into bed, read our books, and went to sleep.

I didn't go to work today.

This doesn't feel good - Amie said to me this morning that if it doesn't feel good, maybe it's wrong. I have the choice - I don't have diabetes, so this isn't absolutely necessary, it's a choice. She also said that sometimes cold turkey is a good idea, but maybe this doesn't have to be cold turkey.

I feel like I have a good understanding of what the foods I've been eating were doing to me and I can make choices knowing what the consequences will be. I feel like I can still make progress even if I don't go cold turkey; maybe not 8 - 13 pounds of weight loss in the first two weeks/Phase 1 progress, but progress.

For breakfast today I made mock-hollandaise sauce from the South Beach recipes (which was really good and I think should be called 'quick and easy' instead of 'mock'), turkey bacon, two eggs over-medium in coconut oil - and I ate this all with two slices of buttered toast.

I feel good about it. It doesn't feel like cheating or giving in or giving up, but like rewarding myself for not giving in yesterday - especially when I was hysterical and angry and devastated.

I'll go back to the guidelines of Phase 2 in time for lunch. I'm ok - I will be ok, and I can't wait to see Doug tonight.

So this is what love looks like?

When I'm curled up with my lover, I feel soft and warm and sensual. A sort of ethereal dreaminess washes over me and everything is rose tinted. I am the embodiment of love, desire and beauty. My body lets go of all the tension, I feel relaxed, comfortable, and I am full of trust. This feeling makes me wish, from time to time, that I were a small cat . . . so I could curl up in the space on his shoulder just below the clavicle and put my nose into his neck. He loves me, and he respects me. When I'm snuggled into his body, my body feels perfect. In these moments, I see what he sees, and I believe the truth.

Most of the time though, the thoughts circling 'round and 'round in my mind about my body are messy, angry, hurtful, and confused.

When I examine my body in the mirror, I see something that reminds me of the famous Venus of Willendorf figurine, found in Lower Austria. Since her discovery in the early 1900's, people have wondered what she represents. Maybe she is a goddess. Maybe she represents the power the women of her culture held. Her full figure means she was well fed, maybe she was celebrated because fat and wealth went hand in hand. Maybe she's someone's lover with a post-pregnancy body.

All I can focus on are her drooping breasts, her big belly, chubby thighs, and tremendous hips. I wonder if her downward gaze is in judgment of herself or if she feels comfort.  I long for something different. The Venus of Willendorf is a warning . . . She represents what I am afraid to look like.

It's a kind of self-created prison, to understand that my body image is a distortion of the truth and to continue believing.

For years, I've cycled through the same pattern over and over and over again. In therapy I've recently discovered what exactly it looks like:

I hate something . . . decide to change it . . . set expectations for the change . . . set out down that path . . . I believe that I am doing really well for a period of time . . . the unrealistic nature of the expectations I set, comes full circle and I lose momentum . . . I have something to feel guilty about . . . the beating begins and will continue until . . . I hate it enough that I decide to change it . . .

This pattern encompasses so many aspects of my life that I dare say it is now a deeply engrained part of my personality. I do this with the way I eat, the way I spend money, the way I exercise or don't, the way I do my job, and the way I go to school.

I create guilt in my life. I create a reason to feel bad about myself. I expect people to be disappointed in me with little or no proof that they actually ever are. I set myself up for failure and I succeed over and over again.

I can break this cycle.

I am learning how to accept love for something that I don't have love for. I want to find myself seeing truth in my mirror, but more than that I want to be present in my body instead of being someone outside of it, looking on and placing judgment. I'm grateful to have people in my life willing to help, willing to be the mirror, who truly love me just the way I am.

The Roots

My mother tells me that when I was little, I could quote The Little Mermaid in its entirety. To this day, I could still sing you all the songs and not muss a single word.

I remember seeing Beauty and The Beast in the movie theatre. I remember a trip to the concession stand to help get treats. When I looked up from what I was carrying, the door had shut behind my dad. I remember all the doors were blue and because I couldn't read yet, I made a guess. There was a very nice blonde woman in the area my parents had chosen to sit. I asked her where they had moved to and she took me by the hand and delivered me to them in a different auditorium.

I remember not liking Snow White as much as I liked Cinderella, and I absolutely adored Sleeping Beauty. I remember Aladdin being a good time, although I much preferred when the stories were about women - I never really liked Pinocchio.

These ladies all exhibit similar qualities: Their friends and loyal companions are little animals. They are nurturers and caregivers. They are innocent, but provocative and demure. They all have hourglass figures with round breasts that are not small, but not too large; wide-spread, but firm hips; and tiny little waists with perfectly flat bellies. All of them waiting for the day that The Prince will whisk them away from the lives they know and deliver them into a dreamy happily ever-after.

I remember being gathered into a space to watch a movie with my small peers and the first one to say "I get to be Sleeping Beauty!" won, and she who had to be Ursula was devastated . . . at least the Wicked Queen, and Maleficent were beautiful too, not like the fat, husky voiced octopus.

In my Women's Studies course in the Spring of 2009, we spoke at length about little things that lead to entire social movements - for instance, Margaret Sanger believed that women should have control of how many babies they had and when they had them. In 1873, the Comstock Act made the distribution of information regarding contraception a lewd act, and Margaret Sanger spent a lot of time in jail because she refused to relent. At that time, a woman could only get a diaphragm if her uterus was prolapsed - meaning, she'd had so many babies that her uterus was falling out of her body through her cervix. Childbirth was life and death for these women.

Sanger spent a lot of time in Europe learning about contraceptives and eventually found a man who helped her smuggle diaphragms into the United States. The man, who had 14 children at home and understood the struggle, agreed to help her if he could have one for his wife.

The two of them stuffed the diaphragms into empty whiskey bottles, packed them into boxes, and marked them with an "X". The sailors were asked to drop those boxes overboard just outside the harbor and then Margaret Sanger and her helper rowed out to get them in the middle of the night. Later, they were distributed the same way you would distribute a handbill.

Later she founded Planned Parenthood, which lead to the contraceptive methods we know today.

I don't want to place blame for my body image on Walt Disney, but to speak of little things that lead to entire social movements . . . even the Disney Princesses who are women of color are fair skinned. Talk about creating an ideal for beauty before little girls even have fully developed body parts.