My Earlobes Still Feel Fat

A couple of hours ago, I was lying in bed with my boyfriend, making out etc, and he whispered in my ear "your body drives me crazy."  Not only did I not respond by arching my back and grinning at him, the way I should have, but the way I did respond is just SO classic.  I sort of faux-smiled (cha grinned , as I like to call it), and said "that makes two of us." God, what a mood killer, eh?!  If it weren't for my boyfriend's persistance I would have just given up.  And to be honest, sometimes I do.  I don't write about sex much on this blog, I guess because it's one of very few subjects I'm not quite comfortable throwing out there into the internet, but I'm beginning to think I ought to change that.  After all, the bedroom (or the living room, or the kitchen, or the airplane bathroom, etc) is the one place where (in most cases) we can't hide our bodies behind clothes or under water. It's also one of the few places where sarcasm

I woke up this morning, nose running, lungs itchy and swollen, and generally just feeling like shit on a stick. I got out of bed, topless, and turned to put on my robe, and there was my boyfriend, staring at me appreciatively. I was not in the mood, but all he said was “you’ve lost a lot of weight.” Of course, being the bitchy, complicated female that I am, I replied: “I don’t know how to take that,” and walked off to the bathroom, covering up on my way. He meant it as a compliment to how I look now, rather than an insult to how I looked before, and in his defense he’s never once in 3 1/2 years said anything but kind words about my body. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hear the unkind ones he doesn’t say. Those are delightfully provided by my own fucked-up psyche. But the point here isn’t that I’m screwed up, because everybody already knows that. The point is, when he said that about my weight, I realized with a jolt that these past few days I’ve been so focused on hacking up my al

I stopped using the calorie counter when we left for our vacation in Italy (Bologna, Umbria , Arezzo , and Cinque Terre ), figuring I didn't want to ruin the delicious food I was planning on stuffing my face with, and relying on the fact that I always lose weight on vacation (my theory is that I'm too busy walking around to snack). And we were really active on vacay , especially when scrambling up and down mountains to nude beaches in Cinque Terre , so I really wasn't too worried about all the gelato and pasta I was consuming (YUM). But I was planning on getting back into the counting when I came back to London... That was the plan , anyway. But then we only had 2 days before we moved into the new flat, after which life was (still is) a blur of unpacking, buying secondhand furniture, and entertaining the friends who so wonderfully came to visit me but whom I so unwittingly told the first week of September would be fine ( gah ). So long story short, I'm still not c

I'm in bologna right now, enjoying delicious food and gorgeous scenery, but I can't stop hating on myself! What the fuck is wrong with me?

Well, I’m a Londoner now! I moved two weeks ago, to make another go of it with the boyfriend and to study for my MA in Creative Nonfiction. And while I thought I would drop the calorie-counting act the minute I landed, I’ve actually kept it up pretty well. And given how much I walk here (let me just say, my poor feet have been BEGGING me to drop 25 quid on a pedicure, but I’m too cheap), I’ve actually ended up well below my allowance most days. But I don’t have a scale, and I refuse to pay for a new one, and my boyfriend refuses to help me procure one, so I have no idea whether I’ve continued to lose weight or not. And I can’t decide whether that’s healthy or not. Because I feel like I would be so happy to see that I am losing weight, and it would make me feel more comfortable putting down the calorie counter, but I know that if it turned out I had stopped losing, or worse, I was gaining, I would feel miserable. So I guess for now it’s good to be without. But I do feel bereft. Bu

My friend Courtney sent me the link to this NY Times article this morning, and I found it really interesting and wanted to share. I can't decide how I feel about it. There's always been a part of me that agrees with the idea that fat is ok, and all of me agrees that you can be fat and fit, but I think in a country like this (or in human society in general) people like to hear absolutes ("diet" or "don't diet"), so I fear the caveats and in-betweens and ifs/ands/buts will fall on deaf ears and we'll still be divided into anorexics/judgmental bitches and obese mcdonalds-eaters. But maybe I'm being too cynical! Courtney seems optimistic. What about you guys? Any thoughts on the matter?

That old Upper East Side adage has been running through my mind all week. Ever since I got my visa to go back to London and started counting down the days I had left of fresh, delicious California cuisine. I recently got to within a couple pounds of my goal (well, not my goal weight, but my goal of getting below a certain hated number), and now I’m struggling with a very difficult decision: to eat or not to eat? I have an opportunity here. I could be below the dreaded number by the time I leave for London, if I’m willing to give up all badness and only eat healthy, low-calorie foods like vegetables sans olive oil and salads with no cheese or nuts. But then I would be sacrificing my last week of yumtastic treats like Trader Joes Mini Peanut Butter Cups and delicious grilled asparagus with olive oil and steak, glorious steak! Maybe the choice would be easier if I had a point of reference, but I’ve never been thin, so I have no idea how it feels. What I do know is that a lot of thing

Happy July everybody! I can’t believe the time has gone by so fast. I feel like I just got back from London, when in reality we’re coming up on a year since I left. Yeesh. And if all goes well I should be heading back that way in just under three weeks; fingers crossed that the British government gives me a visa… But you don’t read this blog to learn about my personal and locational life! That’s what this blog is for. This blog is for all my many ugly and my few pleasant thoughts about my body, so here goes. As you may know, July 1st marks the 12th week of my ‘new’ calorie-counting, gym-going regimen. As you also may know, this regimen, although it follows all logical and mathematical guidelines (I have a resting metabolic rate of around 2700 calories a day, so I eat about 1700 calories a day and work out at least 3 times a week), did me no good at first. In fact, I gained three pounds the first week and spent the next 6 trying desperately to get back to breaking even. And now

Because their album, Twelve Stops and Home, got me through a really tough workout, finishing just as my iPod lost power on the way to the car. Serendipitous . Also, I just adore that album. It's great for driving and singing along to, especially 'Rosè,' an ode to the wine. PS On another note, there were so many skinny girls in the gym today, and I felt irrationally offended. I feel like kicking them out. If you're naturally thin (which these firm-skinned, slender types clearly are), then why would you torture yourself at the gym? The only reason I can think of is that they want to be even thinner/hotter, and I guess that offends me. I know it's selfish but if this is the BEST I can do, and I'm still three times their size, why do they have to go and make me feel even worse by showing off how easy it is for them to go from svelte to svelter?

I just finished a yoga/pilates/ballet workout, and I felt the need to vent. I feel like yoga is supposed to make me more centered, more peaceful and one with my body, etc. And it does, when I can manage to not look at myself while I’m doing it. But when I do succumb to the temptation to look at my body in the poses, as I usually do, I feel the opposite of what I should. Instead of peace and harmony I feel rage and frustration. This is especially true during downward dog, when I can’t help but look at my legs, the contracted thigh muscles lost under a rippling, hanging sea of excess flesh. I know, I know, I shouldn’t do yoga in shorts (or undies and a tee, which is usually my lazy at-home workout outfit). But it seems to me that covering up the problem is only a short-term solution. Of course, staring furiously at the problem and fucking up my chakra (or whatever) doesn’t seem like any sort of solution at all. What I really want is a quick-fix (or a slow, guaranteed fix), but I do

Check out this opinion piece by Nia Vardalos, the writer and star of one of my fave chick flicks, My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I love that she not only makes some really great points, but she also proves her mettle as a writer, beyond movie dialogue (which is tough enough!).

So I feel like I should explain that last post. In fact, I thought about deleting it, because on reflection (after a night of sleep and weird non-bodily dreams) I can see how it would really disturb people, but the point of this blog isn't to show you guys what you already see when we're face to face or on the phone. It's to show people the straight, honest truth of how I feel in this mishmash of confidence and depression post-GB. And in the interest of a frank look at my body issues, I'm not holding back. I know that can be scary, especially when I say things about cleavers and such, but the thing you have to try to remember is this: I don't make spontaneous decisions about my life. I don't even make spontaneous travel plans! So you can pretty much rest assured that I will never just hack off a hip, no matter how appealing that option may seem in the moment. I'll always sleep on it, and I think if it got really bad I'd probably call a hotline or s

I'm so tired of being trapped in this body. How many times in the last few months have I posted about my body making me miserable? Honestly I feel like it's just the story of my life. I'm living out a life sentence in a horrible cell that I can't seem to change at all. And the worst part is that whoever is holding me here lets me out every now and then, liberates me from the prison of fat and self-loathing, and I get to smell the wildflowers and frolic in the meadows and all that great stuff, but then the alarm sounds and the dogs bark and before I know it I'm incarcerated again. And the really fucked up thing is that I'm living two (or more) lives: one of me is constantly trapped in these body issues (and not just the image, but the reality of my weight and my size and all the exercise and dieting in the world not making a dent in the cellulite), and the other lives this great life, with fabulous friends and a hilarious family and a wonderful, supportive boy

Courtesy of my friend Derek, here's a fairly hilarious bit from The Onion that's quasi-related to the last post (if mildly offensive to the point i was trying to make!).

So I'm watching my trashy TV (VH1, 'nuff said), and unfortunately it isn't recorded so I can't fast-forward through the commercials. Or maybe that's fortunate, because if I could fast-forward I would have missed something that made me really happy: an advertisement for Nair Shower Power. Why, you ask, would I want to see a Nair ad? I mean, I don't even use Nair, because my skin is super sensitive and breaks out (although, according to the ad, the new Nair is great for sensitive skin!). But I saw something that made me hit instant replay twice , and I was pleased to discover that my eyes had not been deceived. The ad showed four women doing some kind of choreographed dance in the usual Nair style: short shorts, high heels, lots of leg. But this time something was different. One of the girls was normal, or, dare I say, a little thick ! Now, Nair ads have always featured borderline normal-looking women. Slender, but not stick-figures (which makes sense, becau

Top 5 (homage to High Fidelity) motivating songs: 5. Maroon 5, "Not Coming Home" 4. JoJo, "Leave (Get Out)" 3. Heart, "Barracuda" 2. Johnny Clegg and Juluka, "Work For All" 1. Eminem, "Lose Yourself"

So it’s week 6 of the new calorie-counting lifestyle. I’ve finally lost that 3 pounds I gained the first week (gah), but I haven’t lost anything else yet. However, I have noticed some general changes, both good and bad. I figured it was about time to update. Pros : I feel better about my body, even though I haven’t really lost any weight– I feel less bloated, leaner, and stronger. Of course this could have to do with all the exercise I’ve been doing, and the type; my desire to eat more calories is a great motivator to work out harder and longer, and I’m learning what exercises (and just daily activities) are more calorie burning than others. I think I’m starting to see calories as something akin to money in my life: I have a finite amount, which I spend on some things over others, but I can earn more with a little hard work. So as a result I’ve been trying to do hard core exercise (like tae bo, which burns 595 calories in 40 minutes) 2-3 times a week, and throw in pilates (66

The recap: I had Gastric Bypass seven years ago. I started out at 290, never got down below 185 (size 16 jeans), and have fluctuated somewhere around 200 for the past couple years. I exercise regularly and eat well. I've also had a tummy tuck and arm/thigh lifts. I'm currently around 207, and eating 1770 calories a day in a drastic attempt to drop back below the 200 mark. The current problem: Every now and then I watch a documentary or read an article about someone who has had weight loss surgery, and I feel like they're always so thin. I don't really understand why I never got all that thin in the first place, and why it's such a struggle just to maintain the loss, much less lose more. The conclusion: I guess I'm disappointed. I don't regret the surgery, because it's had a huge impact on my life and my confidence, but I am frustrated that after three surgeries and seven years of struggle, I still feel fat. At what point is a weight-loss surgery c

A few weeks ago I downloaded a new app for my iPhone called Lose It. It’s a calorie counter, but it also incorporates exercise, and the best part is that it’s pretty non-judgmental, as these things go. It lets you choose your own goal, and how fast you want to lost the weight, and then it just calculates the numbers for you. For example, I told it my current weight (I don’t want to talk about it) and that I wanted to lose thirty pounds (yes, hopelessly idealistic) in six months (hey, you gotta have some realism). And it told me my calorie allowance was roughly 2,100 per day. Way higher than I expected! Which is the other thing about this app: it makes me feel good about my eating habits! I have it tracking my nutrients as well, and besides the fact that I eat about twice as much sodium as I’m supposed to (yeah, yeah, whatever. Salt is gooooood), I’m pretty on-target with everything else. And I’ve been coming in under my calorie count pretty much every day. Even Easter! And I

...is that they're related to the posted content, which is smart advertising and makes sense in terms of making money, for them and for me (well, to the extent that I'll make any), but given that the usual content of this blog is weight-related, I'm kind of squeamish about the type of ads that Adsense is attaching. I don't want to encourage people to follow fad diets or take pills to lose weight, or even to lose weight at all in most cases! But this blog is the one that gets the most traffic... Any thoughts? Do you guys hate the ads? Should I ax them or should I give them a try for a while?

So I’ve been doing a little room improvement, which has led to a lot of re-arrangement of bookshelves, which has in turn led to a lot of rediscovery of old journals / favorite postcards / art supplies. And photos. Lots and lots of photos. More specifically, I was surprised to remember that I went through a phase where I actually bothered to create photo albums and scrapbooks for trips in my life. I spent a good hour sitting on the floor, surrounded by bookshelf detritus, flipping through old albums, laughing and remembering the good times: the roadtrip my friends and I took in high school, the dress-up my friend Mark played freshman year of college, the trip my best friend and I took to Australia… but what struck me the most was the difference in how I looked then and now. And then, and then, and then… One album was made up of photos from my dad’s 50th birthday celebration in Italy. We were both pre-GB, and boy did it show. I had completely forgotten how huge I was, and more impo

In a little over a month I’ll be heading to Miami for a weekend reunion with my college girlies. Sun, drinks with umbrellas, lounging on the beach… sounds great, right? Well, yes. And also no. While I’m psyched to be seeing my girls, I’m less than thrilled about the location. At first I thought this was due to my heart already having been set on meeting in saint louie, because who wouldn’t want to visit Miami? But recently I’ve realized that although I do want to visit Miami at some point, I’m worried about how it’ll affect me right now. Lemme ‘splain. As you all know, I’ve been pretty rough on my body recently. Surprisingly, I’m not always so down on myself, but ever since I came back from London I’ve had a tough time liking myself. Anyway, I joined a gym in January and I’ve been pretty good about going three times a week, and I have started to see some tightening up and such (although I’ve actually gained a couple pounds), but I still feel really vulnerable to attacks of the

I made a new friend the other weekend, and yesterday he made me a surprising offer. I was thanking him for introducing me to a couple of new writers and inspiring me to write more frequently, and he suggested that, as repayment, I could model for him sometime (he’s an amateur photographer). Nude. Now, I don’t know what your reactions to this offer might be, but I almost stopped breathing. First of all, I haven’t known this man long, and he’s significantly older than I, and I’m not sure where our friendship stands on the gray line between ‘just friends’ and ‘awkward sexual attraction.’ But even disregarding my (and needless to say, my boyfriend’s) discomfort with the offer from a relationship standpoint, I was thrown by the revulsion I felt when I imagined standing naked in front of someone with a camera. I’ve been working on the self-image / photos standoff for years. When I was fat, I almost never let anyone take photos of me, which actually cultivated an interest in photography

I have a bone to pick with the medical community, although it's probably well hidden beneath layers of fat. Yes, I'm talking about the way that doctors and medical professionals deal with weight. A few months ago, I asked my friend if she liked her 'lady doctor,' because I needed to go in for my annual check-up and I don't have a doctor in SF. Her response was something along the lines of "yeah, I like her because she doesn't talk a lot. I mean, except to tell me to lose weight." At this point, she shrugged, as if this is par for the course. For the record, this friend, while not slender, weighs less than I do. So I went online to Yelp (otherwise known as the bible), and I chose a doctor who gets rave reviews. He's a man, unfortunately, but I figured I should just suck it up and give him a try. And I liked him, mostly. The only thing he did that bothered me was that he talked a little too much. Oh yeah, and that he kept slipping in comment