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A Lifetime on the Hips

This afternoon, while coming home from coffee with a friend, I decided to stop for an ice cream bar.  Now, I rarely eat ice cream unless it's something special, like handmade gelato, because it makes me sick very fast (meaning I get little mileage out of it) and I don't actually like it enough to suffer for it most days, so I haven't had a mass-produced ice cream in probably ten months, maybe a year.  But today was the first really warm sunny day since I've been back in the UK, and I've had an inordinately stressful couple of months (for reasons that, if you can believe it of me, are too personal to explain), and I was wearing a cute sundress and felt like having an ice cream bar.  So I bought a Magnum in the little shop at the end of my road and proceeded to eat it on my way home. Not two bites in, I passed a middle-aged man, fiddling with something homewares-related on his front stoop, his pit bull watching nearby.  He looked up and caught my eye as I went past,...

Wedding Gown Sizing Is Bullshit.

So I've been engaged for what feels like five minutes (I know, it's actually been a month, but I still refuse to believe I need to finish planning this budget-friendly wedding in the extremely budget-unfriendly Napa Valley in the next couple of months), and it will come as no surprise at all to most of you that my anxiety levels are riding high.  Not only am I in full-on panic mode about my guy's visa, and trying to keep a level head about planning this wedding spectacle from 5000 miles away, but tomorrow is my first dress trying-on day and I'm kind of freaking out. From what I understand ( from too many Say Yes to the Dress marathons ), wedding sizing is different from 'normal' clothing sizing – specifically, in a move that can only be motivated to make already-stressed brides-to-be feel even more anxious, wedding gowns are apparently made two sizes smaller than normal dresses.  So if you're a size 12 at Nordstrom, you'd be a 16 at Kleinfeld.  What. ...

An Unbelievable Announcement

This past year, and especially the past two months, has/have been crazy for me: exciting, surreal, stressful, surreal, and extremely busy.  I mentioned surreal twice because that's the feeling that comes through the strongest whenever amazing things happen to me – this is probably because I spent so much of my life thinking I'd be content just to hit 'average' on the excitement/pleasure scale of life (no pun intended).  Whatever the reason, it's a serious issue of mine; when something wonderful happens to me, I'm so blindsided and disbelieving that it's actually hard for me to enjoy it.  It took me a year and a half to relax into my relationship with my boyfriend; I went through the entire book publishing process in a fog of disbelief, and I'm still not sure I believe it; and now I have something else to convince myself is true: I'm engaged . Yes, my boyfriend is now my fiancé.  I won't give you any proposal or ring details, because I'd...

Making food a friend (or at least less than an enemy)

Something weird has been happening… through the publicity process, through all the interview questions I’ve been answering and short-form pieces I’ve been writing and conversations I’ve been having with strangers who have read my book, I’ve come to understand myself a little better, and maybe cut myself some slack.   It’s been a long time since I’ve had a body meltdown – for the past six+ months my nerves have been too overloaded with book stuff and work to even consider making room for self-image – and I’ve even begun to realize that a lot of the things I talk about aiming for in the book are already beginning to happen, some in more pronounced ways than others.   Most notable: I think I’m starting to have a normal relationship with food. Now, of course, the first thing we have to do is define our terms, right?   By a ‘normal’ relationship with food, I mean that I’m not obsessed with it, and it doesn’t control me.   The GB has done its job ...

Overeat without ANY consequences? No thanks.

This post is just a quickie as I'm dying from a chest cold and swamped with admin stuff, but I had to share this super weird tidbit with you guys: according to The Independent , the inventor of the Segway has applied for a patent for a new invention that essentially sucks food out of your stomach after you've eaten it, before you can digest it.  The article claims this is an alternative to gastric bypass, to which I say: not only is it GROSS but it's totally opposite the point of weight loss surgery!  It basically encourages people to stuff their faces without consequence, while the point of GB and its ilk is to impose harsh consequences on the patient, thereby (at least theoretically) changing his/her behavior through conditioning.  Ugh.  Gross.  And how very dehumanizing of fat people to think this is what we need.

All the Things I've Wanted to Share...

The news has been so full of body-image- and obesity- and weight-related articles lately, to the point that I just haven't been able to keep up!  So in the spirit of the new year, and because the media interest in bodies/weight/health doesn't seem to be waning (so I'm sure I'll have plenty more material in the future), I'm cleaning house: here are all the articles I saved up in my email account in 2012 to write individual posts on, which I'm going to share instead through one big link-filled post.  I hope you find these links as interesting as I did (and still do)! This astoundingly brave young woman is doing a similar thing with a photo series to what I'm trying to achieve with the book – I can only hope I've produced something half as affecting and powerful as what she has created. Months ago I stumbled across this website with images of real women's bodies, sometimes accompanied by a paragraph or two about how these women feel about their ...

It's my party and I'll retreat if I want to!

Today is my 28th birthday.  That seems both really old and really familiar, due to my habit of saying I'm older than I am for a couple of months before my birthday makes it so.  Anyway, whether I'm old, young, or a 'spring chicken', as my BF calls me when I lament our age difference every year on his birthday (he just turned 25), I'm definitely exhausted.  The past couple of months have been manic: I started a new position at work, at essentially the exact same time that book publicity began in earnest, which meant interviews and photo shoots* and writing and tweeting and generally being much more involved in the world than usual, and on top of that came personal dramas and Thanksgiving and Christmas shopping and the general year-end pressures we all face every year around this time.   Suffice it to say, my body and my heart and especially my brain are all knackered. So all I want for my birthday is a break, and for once in my life I'm doing my bes...