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.

An Introduction

For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with a negative and distorted body image. For most of those years, I accounted for my body by saying that I ate too much and didn't exercise enough. I spent time in front of the mirror imagining what I would look like when I grew breasts, when my hips filled out, how much prettier my body would be then. During and after puberty, my mirror time turned into imaginings of what I would look like if I lost 5 pounds, 10 pounds, 20 pounds. If I was in good shape . . . my belly would be flat, my hips would be toned, my booty would be firm and round, my arms would look strong instead of soft. Always, always believing that if I wasn't so lazy, or undisciplined, I would eat smaller portions of more healthy food and I would get enough exercise to have the body I always wanted.

For as long as I can remember, my relationship with food and my relationship with my body have been cyclical - Based in the belief that I wasn't good enough. My guilt about what I ate lead to more self-hatred. The loathing I had for my body lead to more eating . . . I was thinking things like "it's already bad, one more pint of ice-cream, one more burrito with half a pound of cheese, one more bag of potato chips, one more, one more, one more wasn't going to make a big enough difference, why not eat whatever I wanted."

I want to explore the origins of this thinking. I believe that my eating is disordered. I know that what I see in the mirror is not what other people see in me.

My intentions are:

~To create a better relationship with food.

~To create a better relationship with my body image.

~To share my experience so that other women (and men) who feel similarly will know they aren't alone.

~To come to terms with the things that contributed, and to let go of the blame I feel for some of them.