Hormones are Evil

I don't mean to whine, but I'm so hormonal I can't help it!

What's the deal with women's hormones anyway? Did the universe, in all its infinite wisdom, decide that pain, irritability, exhaustion, water retention, and out-of-control food cravings are punishment for not getting pregnant each month? Oh, no bun in the oven, eh? You're gonna be sorry...

Here's more than you wanted to know about me: I have a short cycle. I don't know the exact number of days, but it ain't 28! That means that I spend more than my fair share of the time battling moodiness and ice cream cravings from hell. What possible evolutionary purpose could that serve? 

Here's the real problem. I don't think I got any of the good hormones. Where are the energetic, go-get-'em, yay! spinach! hormones that other people seem to have? What about the crowd-working, center-of-attention hormones? The neat freak hormones? The I-love-aerobics-so-much-I-want-to-marry-Jane-Fonda hormones? The... oh, you get the picture. I'm absolutely certain that those hormones exist and I just didn't get any of them. Instead, I got the lazy couch potato hormones. And the "I'm too tired" hormones. And the "fuck you, Jane Fonda!" hormones. And the Ben & Jerry's hormones. And the "it's OK but would be better with sugar" hormones.

I understand the hormones that are all about attracting a mate and propagating, but what's with all the negativity? I don't want to be pissy for no reason. If I'm going to be in a bad mood, I want to know that it was caused by something external, something I can see, touch, and/or hear. I want to be able to slap it in the face or kick it in the balls. I want... mmm, you know what sounds good? Cheesecake. No, warm cherry pie a la mode! Brownies! Those really great chocolate squares with the gooey caramel inside. Oh. My. God.

Let's see... What do I have in the house? Apples. Peaches. Lettuce. My hormones do not want any of these things or any other things that are similar to these things. If it's good for me, then just forget it. My hormones are not interested. They want chocolate and candy and potato chips and ice cream, and I don't have any of those things!

Cue bursting into tears mood swing plus fetal position in t-minus 5, 4, 3,...

Nothin' Normal About It

The following nugget is inspired by the blog hop prompt below from me swell friend Mardra...

This is a Blog Hop. So, hoppers: What do you think? What are the ups and downs of normal? What’s normal anyway? Do you wish for it or abhor it?

"Body image" is a modern term that never should have been invented. Why do we insist on over-thinking the shape and size of our bodies? And what are we comparing ourselves to? And what is the point? There are so many other things to worry about. Why do we worry so much about squeezing ourselves into an unrealistic societal mold?

Being skinny isn't normal. Being fat isn't normal. But worrying about it has become so commonplace that's it's impossible to avoid (you know, as long as you insist on having contact with the outside world). The diet, health, and exercise industries thrive on paranoia created by the fashion, entertainment, and media industries. The fact that a place like Baby Gap even exists is testimony to how much personal appearance - the right personal appearance - dominates the everyday lives of everyday Americans.

As a girl, my sister suffered from Barbie envy, as have, apparently, millions of other young girls. I was fortunate enough to not fall into this trap. Barbie is, after all, nothing more than a doll. But Charlie's Angels? They were real. That's what women were supposed to look like. Tall, thin, and fashionable with perfect hair who never sweat, never left the house without the exact right amount of expertly applied makeup, and simply always looked gorgeous. In the 1970s, that's what women and young girls thought was normal. That's what they thought they were supposed to look like. It's what I thought I was supposed to look like, and it was devastatingly frustrating to discover that my reality would never, ever include any of the aforementioned Angels ideals.

The Angels were also wicked smart, clever, brave, talented, and often heroic, something ugly fat girls were definitely not.

As I've gotten older, I've learned some important things. I've learned that normal is a myth, a ruse concocted by people who are just trying to sell something. I've learned that I will never fit into anyone else's mold (and that's not just because my thighs are too big). I don't make the mistake of thinking that I have a true handle on who I am or what I want out of life. I'm too addled by contradictions. I'm environmentally conscious, but when leftovers go bad in the fridge, I just throw out the whole container instead suffering through cleaning it out to reuse it. I value making good food choices, but I consistently make bad ones. I love baggy clothes (especially pants) while envying the women who can pull off skin tight outfits. I delight in having a clean house, but rarely actually have one.

I'm a mess!

But that's OK. It's normal.

I don't want to...

Ah, the American mantra... the toddleresque phrase filled with innocence, stubbornness, and entitlement, with a touch of hope that simply saying it means you don’t have to do it. “I don’t want to” is not to be confused with “I cannot” or “I refuse to” or even just “No.” “I don’t want to” smacks of selfishness. It protects us from the things we should do that we are not strong enough to make happen.

Put the phrase “I don’t want to” in the hands of a food addict and you get things like...

I don’t want to give up anything.
I don’t want to think about what I’m eating for the rest of my life.
I don’t want to change my habits.
I don’t want to worry about eating at a friend’s house or what I’ll do at family gatherings on holidays.
I don’t want to face the reasons behind my eating disorder by doing something that might actually make me healthy and take away the protective armor that is excess weight.
I don’t want to admit that I can’t do it.
I don’t want to fail.

The “I don’t want tos” are so powerful that they can completely drown out the opposing invitations of...

I want to be healthy.
I want to feel good in my own skin.
I want to have energy.
I want to be confident.
I want to wear skinny jeans without feeling like I’m redefining the term.

Of course, there are “I don’t want tos” that are positive, in a roundabout way given that “don’t” is fundamentally negative in nature. However, there are...

I don’t want to be embarrassed.
I don’t want to be uncomfortable.
I don’t want to feel bad.
I don’t want to get diabetes.
I don’t want to worry about whether or not I will fit in the airplane seat, stadium seat, restaurant seat, theater seat, dentist’s chair...
I don’t want to be the butt of jokes that continue to be popular and acceptable despite the taboos on so many other stereotype-based jokes.

Here’s what I don’t want to do. I don’t want to still be having this conversation in ten years because I’m still 130 pounds overweight, eating entire pints of ice cream in one sitting, ordering pizza instead of eating the fresh produce that’s rotting in my fridge from neglect, staring at my Wii Fit, treadmill, and hand weights and wishing I had the energy to use them, and worrying about what I can and cannot fit into. I don’t want to be self-conscious when I go to the doctor and fear that the answer to whatever ailment I’m battling will be “lose weight” (especially when the two are totally unrelated, but idiot doctors are a whole different topic). I don’t want to feel like, or be subjected to others’ opinions that, I’m a bad person because I’m fat.

Change is hard, especially when it’s change that makes you different from those around you. Change is scary, because the new and the unknown are daunting and unfamiliar, because we like to have ruts in the road that our wheels fit into and can guide us. Fuck Robert Frost and his road less traveled. I don’t want to go that way. I want easy and familiar and comfortable and fast. I want my cake. I want to eat it. And I want it to miraculously take off extra pounds instead of adding them. I know the answer is to work hard, exercise, overhaul my diet and my attitude, face my fears, and conquer the obstacles in my way. But I don’t want to.

Fruit vs Vegetables

My father is returning home today after a lovely weekend visit. As usual, we went to breakfast before his four-hour drive back to Western Nebraska. And, since his small town is short on culinary variety, we always hit the nearby breakfast buffet.

Breakfast for me usually consists of some eggs and bacon, a waffle, a sticky cinnamon roll, and whatever else looks good enough to eat that morning. Today I had: honeydew melon, pineapple, watermelon, grapes, a blueberry muffin, and a waffle with strawberry syrup (with actual strawberries in it). Notice what's missing from that list? Before you forget the title of this post and jump straight to protein, let me give you the answer: not one vegetable.

I am most definitely a fruit person. Given the choice between fresh fruit and fresh vegetables, I will almost always choose the fruit (with the possible exception of tomatoes, which are technically fruit, not vegetables, so there you go). When I'm at the grocery store, I spend time wandering through the fruit and looking at the apples, strawberries, and grapes, among others, and (unless I have a list) very little time contemplating the vegetables. If you look in my refrigerator right now (which I don't recommend!), you will find fruit, but no veggies.

Why is this, I wonder. Is it because fruit is usually sweet and vegetables are not? Could be, but that doesn't really explain why I prefer green apples over red and green grapes to purple, i.e., the sour versions over the sweet. But even a Granny Smith apple is sweeter than broccoli which, in its natural state, is bitter and (let's be honest) boring. I prefer to eat broccoli that is really hot but still a little crunchy (or pureed and mixed into a thick, cheesy broth).

The fact is, I like fruit fresh and vegetables cooked. I rarely eat a plain, raw vegetable. I'm not opposed to vegetable juice, but there better be some fruit in there to sweeten it up and make it not taste like dirt. I don't like spring mix "lettuce" because it's like eating weeds. There are few "greens" I can tolerate, some of which have to be cooked (like kale) and others which absolutely must not be cooked (like spinach). Carrots are OK in small doses, cooked or raw. Celery is boring without something on it, like dip or cheese or peanut butter. Cauliflower? Boring. Brussels sprouts? Yuck. Asparagus? Boring and Yuck (and irritatingly popular).

So, I'm not sure what any of this means to my general health and well-being, but I'm pretty sure that my sister will have a thing or two to tell me about why I need to alter my preferences to include more leafy greens and other fibrous and antioxidant-filled veggies. And I might try, but the fact is that I'm a fruit eater (unless, of course, the fruits are too health beneficial - don't get me started on everything I don't like about bananas and coconut!).

The Invisalign Diet

This morning, I got my new Invisalign braces. The dentist put several little hard "buttons" on my teeth that the "aligners" snap onto. They feel really weird. They're like little mounds of resin attached to my teeth. I am learning, as I eat lunch, that food gets stuck to them really easily. I fear I am about to become one of those weirdos who brushes her teeth at work. Oh, the horror!

What's so "diety" about them? It's this... You cannot eat anything while you're wearing them. Nothing. Nothing. And these suckers don't just pop in and out like a retainer (said the girl who's never worn a retainer). They are tightly formed to your teeth, and it takes some work to get them in and out. The dental hygienist, who also has Invisalign braces, said this morning, "Yeah, I schedule my snacks." So, for the next 60 weeks of my life, there will be no casual munching, no impulse sweets (the cookie I got from a coworker this morning is still sitting here mocking me!), and no "I'll just have a quick bite" meals (nothing quick about eating for me now!). It seems pretty clear that my eating habits are going to be greatly altered.

I have to wear the aligners for, ideally, 22 hours a day. That leaves two combined hours for eating, and for the food-addicted, that's not much.

Interestingly, this also means it will be very difficult for me to eat at my desk because, quite frankly, it takes too long. Plus I don't think I really want to be digging around in my mouth while I'm sitting at my desk. I imagine it won't be a very pretty sight.

Eating my cookie now. Mmmmm...

So, it's going to be strange, at least for a while, but I think it'll be good for me. The thing that's going to be the most difficult to get used to? I also can't drink anything (but water) while wearing them! Forget the casual munching. No more casual wine drinking? That's gonna be hard!

Emotions & Food

We have phrases like "comfort food," commercials that show people getting relief from a hard day with any number of foods, and encouragement from numerous sources to use food to soothe, especially children. Retail food producers use words like "bliss," "love," "joy," and of course, "comfort" to appeal to women. Messages of fun are used on kids, and anger, violence, and machismo target men. Consider Burger King's "Angry Whopper" and T.G.I. Fridays' "Brownie Obsession." Foods of all kinds are marketed to trigger an emotional response, along with or instead of a physical response. It's not good enough to say what makes the food delicious. In fact, many ads don't even mention the taste. It is enough to see a beautiful woman sensuously eating chocolate, a family laughing together over a quick and easy boxed meal, or a WWE wrestler flexing and shouting about a processed meat stick. What do we learn from these ads? We learn that food can make you relaxed, happy, content, beautiful, tough, cool, fun, and so on. We learn that food is about feelings, not nourishment.

Why does any of this matter? Because it creates a culture in which food is a mood enhancer and ego booster. Because it produces people who become emotionally addicted to food. Because it urges people to seek solace in something that may later make them feel disgusting (emotionally and physically). Because it obliterates the line between "eating to live" and "living to eat." When food is more connected to how we feel emotionally than physically, everything goes to hell.

And in America, we don't just stress the quality of the food, we also focus on the quantity. Every other restaurant ad touts how large the portions are, as if that's all that matters. Places like Joe's Crab Shack serve many items in buckets, and although they aren't usually filled from the bottom up, they give the illusion of a great deal of food. And that's a selling point. Considering how bombarded we are with large amounts of food as the commonplace, it's no wonder how many people don't know when to stop eating – especially when they're self-medicating with food. As children, we're overstimulated with food that (mostly) well-intentioned parents use as a distraction or a reward. Take a good long look in your grocery store's cereal and snack aisles. The number of offerings that provide any real nutritional value is overwhelmingly low. We have Kellogg's and Pillsbury fighting over which one has the better toaster pastry, neither of which is good for you on any conceivable level.

So what do those foods offer? Fun. Convenience. Happiness. Friendship (so easy to share!).

The revolving door of self-pity and self-hate that chronic overeaters experience comes from the use of food to numb the pain and feeling even worse because they ate all that food. But food is supposed to make you feel better, isn't it? That's the pervasive message that's beaten into us day after day. Food is love. Food is success. Food is sex. Food is wonderful. And some of it even tastes good.

Here's something you may not know: The fanciful copy that you find on packaged food, the copy that tells you why the food is so great, is called romance copy. 'Nough said.

Why am I so fat?

It's an interesting question, and you would get a variety of guesses from different people. Some would say I'm just lazy; others would assume that I don't care about my health. More enlightened folks might say that I have emotional issues that I treat with food, then there are those--few though they may be--who would guess that I have an addiction to food. The most vocal guessers would be the ones who have contempt for my size, who would use words like "gross," "disgusting," "dirty," "ugly," and so on. The stereotypes abound and continue to be perpetuated by commercials, comedians, and the film and television industry.

The "why" behind obesity is varied and mostly misunderstood. There are emotional, psychological, and physical reasons why people become fat. Both internal--low self-esteem, fear--and external--poor food choices, processed foods--causes are to blame. Finger-pointers like to accuse the fast food and processed food industries, television, restaurants, video games, and more. Always the fingers point away from themselves, well, ourselves.

I decided to start Chunky Pudgy for a few different reasons: to explore my own issues with food, body image, self-worth, etc., to examine causes, perceptions, and depictions of obesity, and to chronicle my attempts to lose weight and improve my health.

Let the journey begin.