My older brother and his wife bought a vacation home in Northern Wisconsin last summer. I just spent the last two days there, with them and their three children, my older sister Denise, and my Dad.
I'm glad I went. It was fun. I also learned some not-so flattering aspects of myself.
The first is that I have always gone against my sister's desires simply out of fear that my own would not be met. This weekend I saw that I was doing it, pushed myself out of it, and was happy that with the results.
She really wanted to go snowshoeing. I was not particularly interested in going snowshoeing; for one thing, I weigh the most I have ever weighed in my life, and was worried about physically being able to keep up. The other reason I didn't care to go is simply because I pictured us walking around in over-sized tennis rackets. This just didn't seem like such a great deal.
My brother and his wife do more down hill and cross country skiing. My Dad is 70, had a hip replacement last summer, and she expected him to go, too. I felt that she was pushing her own agenda against what was in the best interest of the rest of us.
Normally I would have protested, and it would have become a subtle battle of who loves who more by who wants to do who's agenda - could I talk them into cross country skiing instead? I knew cross country skiing, I knew I could do that in my current physical condition. Maybe we could do that instead.
We kind of went that direction at the rental place. They had both cross country skis and snow shoes. We got talking with the kid that did the rentals, and he said snow shoeing was really fun - that we should should try it.
He was about 6'4" tall, and a little heavy himself. He looked us over, and didn't say anything like, "Yeah - it'll be totally fun. Except for you, fat girl. You will die. Your old man probably will, too; but because you are so fat, you will probably die before him. Fatty."
Nope, none of that. He just smiled, looked each of us over, and handed each of us our appropriate snow shoe.
Snow shoes, like cross country skiing, is a weight-based piece of equipment. He didn't hesitate among us adults - he just handed each of us our gear. At my neices, though, he paused. "How much do you weigh?" he asked the older one. "110," she said easily. Not bragging, but not embarrassed, either. Just a statement of fact. For them he gave them different sizes.
We went out the next morning, and it was fun. I expressed on the way to the trail, in a joking manner, how I am going to sink like a rock to the bottom of the snow powder. My Dad laughed heartily at that. I also said how out of shape I am. But we got on the trail, and I was fine. The first lap we went slow, partly out of consideration for my Dad, and partly just cuz we were kind of playing with each other.
When we got back to the Chalet, Dad went inside. Denise said, "So, does anyone want to go again?" It was only about a half-mile path, and it had mild hills and valleys; not a strenous workout at all.
I used to get angry with Denise's "Oh, I have to go work out now!" attitude. She always seemed so holier-than-thou with it. It's as if she's the self-appointed worker-outer in the family - and each family can only have one! And she's IT!
This has always made me angry as the younger sibling - well, if she's already the hyper fit one in the family, then I guess I have to be the hyper fat one in the family. It made me so mad, especially because I have always been told I have a lot of athletic ability. But, sigh, I could not explore it or develop it because if I step in Denise's terrain of Hyper Fit Daughter, then I will be handed the same fate as my older sister Margie, who won out over Denise (in Denise's mind) in the looks department. Denise was horrible to Margie growing up. Seriously. Horrible. We look like a sweet and happy family at Church on Sunday - but Denise was a complete shit to Marge growing up. I know now that it's because of sibling rivalry, of feeling like there wasn't enough love to go around. But because of I what I saw her do, and was party to doing to Marge, I have NEVER wanted to compete with Denise.
So as she said, "Who wants to go again?" I heard the desperation in her voice. The need for her to be the Fit One, the one who could go two, three, ten times, a hundred! How many times can anyone else go? She can do that plus two. Cuz she's fit.
It's clear I have no animosity.
Anyway, I heard desperation in her voice, and I realized that that's just a role she plays. Not that she doesn't enjoy the physical exercise - but it's weird. She always talks about how non-athletic she is, how clumsy she was when she tried to play basketball, how out of rhythm she is if she tries to dance. I have good rythym. I am coordinated.
I realized coming out of the woods today, as my body was singing and happy despite the fact it was carrying the equivalent of a complete nother person (226/2 = 113, or, more than each of what my nieces weigh), that I have never competed with my sister, or anyone else, on an up-and-up level. I have done my best and gotten positions without having to "beat" anyone out of it. I prefer this route - to do my best, and it will show and be rewarded.
However, I have a habit of dumbing myself down or holding back my thoughts so as to not "beat" someone else out of something. I did this recently at work - I didn't fully give myself to some things at work for fear that I would take that person's job away from them. I realized how unfair that was to that person, to the company, and to me.
Today, coming out of the woods, as I watched both of my older siblings race their way through, both so desperate to be on top in each and every situation, and me, in the back of the pack out of desperation to have their love by not competing with them, it was clear to me that that's not fair to any of us, either. Maybe they'd like me up there with them. Maybe they'd have fun racing for first. Maybe me doing my best is what they want. Nobody wants to win by the other person not trying. And maybe it's not about "winning." But "being." And I simply want to be my best.
It was humbling - realizing I probably weigh as much as if not more than my father. The littlest girl at birth, a mere 5 pounds 9 ounces - now, a tank of a woman. Is this really what I want my legacy to be? No. It's not. I want my legacy to be a life well lived, happily and healthily.
Other little realizations: They go water skiing, I've never gone - again, due to my size. I'd like to feel comfortable in a swim suit to experience that. My nieces are both very tiny - I realized how threatening I find being around men at that size. That's something for me to work on.
I'm torn - do I try dating at this size? I should probably go on a Hurry Date or something. I believe that someone could enjoy hanging out with me looking like this. But being in a physical relationship with me as I am right now? No way. It repulses me. The thought of me having sex with someone ... the though of 226 pounds of flesh trying to get her freak on is both hillarious and humiliating to me. I see other women bigger than me find love, and I think, how did they do it? What do these men see in these women? Actually, I think, what's wrong with those men? I've got a lot of work to do - that's part of what made me want to gain the weight - to let go of those feelings of unworthiness. So the question is - do I stay heavy and work through it, or let go of the weight and open myself up to the possibility of honest competition with other women?
I think the latter. I'd really like to be lighter by this summer so I can do outdoor sports without shame. I've lived in enough shame about my body and my size. Time to cut it loose.
Oh. I didn't eat any meat with them. I didn't bring food, but I had salad and pasta for dinner when we went out to eat at the meat-heavy restaurant we went to. At breakfast I just had pancakes and no sausage. At lunch, salad, some chips, and trail mix. I did bring water, so I kept hydrating myself. But an interesting question kept running through my mind each time I ate: What is really fueling me? I looked at my lettuce leaves and I thought, this can't really give me much fuel. I looked at my linquini noodles and thought, this definitely doesn't do anything but put some calories into my body - not nutreints. Same with the pancakes. Same with the chips. The trail mix to me was the only moderately nutrient-dense food I ate the last two days. It made me think about the whole fasting thing, and how I've been afraid to eat, I've been afraid to not eat, I've been afraid to work out, how I wonder how I'll ever eat normally again, where does exercise fit in if I'm eating no calories?
Today it came clear to me that I want to focus on drinking all the water I need. That's priority one. Then, I want to work out - whether it's dancing, treadmill, yogo, what have you. Then, I want to nourish my body apropriately.
That seems pretty simple, and pretty doable. Thanks for reading. Until next time.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Realization Through Tears
In my "Mind" blog, I talked about feeling like I can't express my true beliefs with my family. I have always felt this way, from a little kid on. My family will be talking about something, and I will have a differing view or another perspective to offer - and maybe I just think them and don't say them, but I'm certain that I've said some of them, only to have no one react or validate my thought or comment. Later, sometimes five minutes and sometimes five days, someone else will have said exactly that which I thought or said, and everyone in my family says, "Oh! Well, so-and-so said that ..." and then it's valid. This has steamed me for years. Do I just think the thoughts and not say them? Do they tune me out that easily? Can they just not accept me as a valid source because of my position of youngest girl in the family?
So at Christmas, I shared with a couple of my family members an experience I had with a clairvoyant. You can read my "Oiuja Hear Me Out" post in my "Mind" blog to get the rest of the scoop - but the reason I am sharing this here is because I saw for the first time in my life how my sister's reactions to me has been a subconscious factor in the decisions I make in my life - including my weight.
I told my sister that I told my Dad about something not-so-positive the clairvoyant had said about his actions. My dad didn't really react when I told him - but when I told my sister what I said, she got angry. But not openly angry; angry like a cat growling. Our family's standard operating procedure is to pretend we do not notice the growling, or to act like the growling is that person's own problem. So growling is all we ever do, we grumble and growl but we never full on get angry and roar.
Per usual procedure, my sister growls. I am surprised by her reaction, and say, "Wow, you seem angry about that - what about that makes you mad?"
She snaps back, "Well it's just like my friend she'll go and do all this stuff and then tell me how I hurt her feelings or I don't do this or I don't do enough of that and then she says 'Oh, I feel so much better letting that out' but I don't feel better for knowing it" and she went on a little bit more but I don't remember exactly what was said. The feeling that I got from it, though, was do what you want, but don't tell me about it unless I'm going to like it.
This has been our operating procedure our whole lives. Do what you want, share with me everything, as long as it's not sadness or pain or anger or hurt. I had possibly hurt Dad with the information I had given him, and Denise was angry because we don't share hurts - especially hurts Dad has caused us, and certainly not with him directly. I don't know if it's because he can't handle them, or he's above dealing with such trivial things.
So I share with Denise and she growls. I comment on the growl, and suddenly I saw us differently. I got the image of us as animals in the wild, and she was a tiger and I was an antelope, and we got along fine as long as the antelope never pisses off the tiger. The tiger could at any moment kill that antelope, he would just as well, but for some reason, the tiger is told he must be friends with this antelope and cannot eat her. But they both know that the tiger does not really want to be friends with the antelope. He just wants to eat the antelope.
The antelope no longer wants to live this way, and starts saying what she thinks, regardless of the tigers reaction. The tiger is faced with the decision - kill this antelope or learn to understand it?
My point is - I have kept myself fat and ugly all these years so as to not piss off the tiger. But the antelope wants to run, and is tired of living her life trying to appease the tiger. It's time for the antelope to appease herself, and risk the wrath of the tiger.
But I can see how when I was little, and she was six years older than me, how powerful and threatening she seemed to me. I have fond memories of my sister Margie when we were kids. I have no fond memories of Denise. In fact, the first and only memory I have of her is her being cruel to me when I was about 9 or ten.
It relates to this blog because I have been too afraid of her to challenge her or stand up to her. I've always just backed off and gone along with her stance. No more.
So at Christmas, I shared with a couple of my family members an experience I had with a clairvoyant. You can read my "Oiuja Hear Me Out" post in my "Mind" blog to get the rest of the scoop - but the reason I am sharing this here is because I saw for the first time in my life how my sister's reactions to me has been a subconscious factor in the decisions I make in my life - including my weight.
I told my sister that I told my Dad about something not-so-positive the clairvoyant had said about his actions. My dad didn't really react when I told him - but when I told my sister what I said, she got angry. But not openly angry; angry like a cat growling. Our family's standard operating procedure is to pretend we do not notice the growling, or to act like the growling is that person's own problem. So growling is all we ever do, we grumble and growl but we never full on get angry and roar.
Per usual procedure, my sister growls. I am surprised by her reaction, and say, "Wow, you seem angry about that - what about that makes you mad?"
She snaps back, "Well it's just like my friend she'll go and do all this stuff and then tell me how I hurt her feelings or I don't do this or I don't do enough of that and then she says 'Oh, I feel so much better letting that out' but I don't feel better for knowing it" and she went on a little bit more but I don't remember exactly what was said. The feeling that I got from it, though, was do what you want, but don't tell me about it unless I'm going to like it.
This has been our operating procedure our whole lives. Do what you want, share with me everything, as long as it's not sadness or pain or anger or hurt. I had possibly hurt Dad with the information I had given him, and Denise was angry because we don't share hurts - especially hurts Dad has caused us, and certainly not with him directly. I don't know if it's because he can't handle them, or he's above dealing with such trivial things.
So I share with Denise and she growls. I comment on the growl, and suddenly I saw us differently. I got the image of us as animals in the wild, and she was a tiger and I was an antelope, and we got along fine as long as the antelope never pisses off the tiger. The tiger could at any moment kill that antelope, he would just as well, but for some reason, the tiger is told he must be friends with this antelope and cannot eat her. But they both know that the tiger does not really want to be friends with the antelope. He just wants to eat the antelope.
The antelope no longer wants to live this way, and starts saying what she thinks, regardless of the tigers reaction. The tiger is faced with the decision - kill this antelope or learn to understand it?
My point is - I have kept myself fat and ugly all these years so as to not piss off the tiger. But the antelope wants to run, and is tired of living her life trying to appease the tiger. It's time for the antelope to appease herself, and risk the wrath of the tiger.
But I can see how when I was little, and she was six years older than me, how powerful and threatening she seemed to me. I have fond memories of my sister Margie when we were kids. I have no fond memories of Denise. In fact, the first and only memory I have of her is her being cruel to me when I was about 9 or ten.
It relates to this blog because I have been too afraid of her to challenge her or stand up to her. I've always just backed off and gone along with her stance. No more.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Preparing for the New Year
I'm finishin up some things around the house before I leave for Wisconsin from Chicago to go visit my family for Christmas Eve tonight and Christmas Day tomorrow.
Today's Weight: 226
Today's Revelation: I had to do a health assessment for my company's insurance benefits a few days ago. It had last year's weight and responses listed as well. Yesterday, I was looking at it again, and here's what I found interesting: with all of the ups and downs I've had with my weight, not a single "down" is documented. The ups sure are: This year's weight was entered as 221, which it was the day that I did the assessement. Last year's weight was 190. I think I entered that one truthfully - it occurred during the period where I decided to try something different and gain weight, and so I was on the upward slant.
I looked at all the answers to my questions: Do you eat fruits and vegetables? Yes. Intermittently this is true. I eat all fruits and vegetables and then I go opposite and eat only shit. Currently, I am still in "eating shit" phase.
Other questions: Do you work out and how many times a week? Do you smoke? Do you wear a seatbelt? Do you drink? What is your stress level?
Looking at my answers, I really do live a pretty healthy lifestyle. I cut out smoking, I cut out drinking, I do wear a seatbelt, and I am learning how to look at things so I don't feel stressed as often as I used to. In fact, every aspect of my life seemed to be operating very well. Except for one factor. My weight.
There were four rankings for potential health problems: Low risk, moderate, high, and I can't remember the last one? Critical? Death is Knocking at Your Door? I can't remember it, but I ranked at 49 per cent - "Moderate."
If I lost weight, all the health problems the insurance company is determining as possible risk factors for me would be eliminated. I am living a pretty healthy lifestyle. It's just this weight thing that I need to master. The rest of it is fairly under control.
That's my revelation for the day. In other news, I made some Christmas treats to take up to contribute to the mix. I made some treats that I was pretty much living on for two weeks straight a year ago - they are honey graham cereal pieces mixed with marshmallow and chocolate chips, kind of like a popable s'more. They are YUMMY. I made the mixture, coated my hands in butter, and rolled 54 balls. I didn't have any - not a bite of a ball, not a lick of a spatula, not a scrape of the pan. I rolled all of them, and it didn't even look like food to me. It looked like crack - crack that my family members will love and think I am providing well for their Christmas fun. I didn't realize until after I made them all and put the pan in the sink to soak that I got through it without even desiring to eat any. I was really happy about that - I consider that a great break through.
I also need to bring a dish to pass. I am going to make my Avocado Grapefruit salad. This way, I can eat well for me without being obvious or obnoxious about it. I am going to serve it with salad for the meal, but I am going to keep some separate so I can chow on that with my beloved Fritos Scoops the rest of the day. That way I can snack healthily, and no one will be the wiser. I am very excited about this.
Gotta roll. Merry Christmas! and talk with you soon.
Today's Weight: 226
Today's Revelation: I had to do a health assessment for my company's insurance benefits a few days ago. It had last year's weight and responses listed as well. Yesterday, I was looking at it again, and here's what I found interesting: with all of the ups and downs I've had with my weight, not a single "down" is documented. The ups sure are: This year's weight was entered as 221, which it was the day that I did the assessement. Last year's weight was 190. I think I entered that one truthfully - it occurred during the period where I decided to try something different and gain weight, and so I was on the upward slant.
I looked at all the answers to my questions: Do you eat fruits and vegetables? Yes. Intermittently this is true. I eat all fruits and vegetables and then I go opposite and eat only shit. Currently, I am still in "eating shit" phase.
Other questions: Do you work out and how many times a week? Do you smoke? Do you wear a seatbelt? Do you drink? What is your stress level?
Looking at my answers, I really do live a pretty healthy lifestyle. I cut out smoking, I cut out drinking, I do wear a seatbelt, and I am learning how to look at things so I don't feel stressed as often as I used to. In fact, every aspect of my life seemed to be operating very well. Except for one factor. My weight.
There were four rankings for potential health problems: Low risk, moderate, high, and I can't remember the last one? Critical? Death is Knocking at Your Door? I can't remember it, but I ranked at 49 per cent - "Moderate."
If I lost weight, all the health problems the insurance company is determining as possible risk factors for me would be eliminated. I am living a pretty healthy lifestyle. It's just this weight thing that I need to master. The rest of it is fairly under control.
That's my revelation for the day. In other news, I made some Christmas treats to take up to contribute to the mix. I made some treats that I was pretty much living on for two weeks straight a year ago - they are honey graham cereal pieces mixed with marshmallow and chocolate chips, kind of like a popable s'more. They are YUMMY. I made the mixture, coated my hands in butter, and rolled 54 balls. I didn't have any - not a bite of a ball, not a lick of a spatula, not a scrape of the pan. I rolled all of them, and it didn't even look like food to me. It looked like crack - crack that my family members will love and think I am providing well for their Christmas fun. I didn't realize until after I made them all and put the pan in the sink to soak that I got through it without even desiring to eat any. I was really happy about that - I consider that a great break through.
I also need to bring a dish to pass. I am going to make my Avocado Grapefruit salad. This way, I can eat well for me without being obvious or obnoxious about it. I am going to serve it with salad for the meal, but I am going to keep some separate so I can chow on that with my beloved Fritos Scoops the rest of the day. That way I can snack healthily, and no one will be the wiser. I am very excited about this.
Gotta roll. Merry Christmas! and talk with you soon.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Bullshit
Is it just me or do these posts get more and more depressing to read? Some would say it's just mood swings. I attribute it to diet. Self-fullfilling prophecy, or fact?
Who fucking cares.
Seriously. If I try to prove that my mood is seriously affected by my diet, anyone can counteract that. How can I prove that? Are there tests I can take - medical, scientific tests I can take to justify to everyone that the food is the root cause? That there is no real need for anti-depressants; just a need to clean up our eating and to express ourselves clearly?
Is this what I am out to do with this blog? Prove a point? Be named smartest, most daring eater of all the land? Change the eating and pill-taking habits of the world?
Sigh. I can't do all that. Nobody will change until they need to.
Today I saw a sign: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." It hit me - I'm running around trying to be a fucking teacher. I am shouting at the horses, "Hey! The water! It's HERE! Come over HERE! Drink up drink up!" And all the students and all the horses are going go fuck yourself.
So, maybe I can just share what I am experiencing. Let's see ...
I am back up to 225. I am eating nothing but yeast and sugar based products. This is exactly how I was eating before the fast. My nose is red and hurts in the front corners from my little candida camps. My nose is constantly dripping. This morning I was wiping my drippy nose on my hand, and I got this flash of how I never understood how cocaine addicts found the side effect of a dripping nose worth the high of the drug. It became clear that I was at the same point. My side effects were evident. But my drugs are legal. Ain't no cop busting me for donut possesion and a gram of sugar.
I feel crabby and hopeless all at once. Whispy and whiny. Oh woe is me! I hate even writing this fucking blog right now, because it's all whiny and complainy.
Today I was talking with a co-worker, and I noticed how much I LOVE bitching. Bitching about how unloved I am by my family.
It is two days before christmas, and the term "As you sow so shall you reap" is running through my head. The only Christmas card I've received is from a co-worker. She's only known me for the last few months. I didn't send her one. I didn't send any to my family. They didn't send me any. I didn't send any to my friends. They didn't send me any.
I've sown, so I have reaped.
But this isn't to cry about that. However, I do feel that I isolate myself very easily. I guess this blog is isolating as well. But I don't feel I can talk with them about my changes. I don't know that I want to. Maybe it's just me, but I want new friends - friends that are caring and loving and non-judgemental.
I don't think it's my friends that are the uncaring and unloving and judgemental ones. I think I am projecting that on to them. I think they've just given up trying to get a caring and loving and non-judgemental response from me.
I think about Scrooge, and how he immediately became happy. Um, I don't think so. I think it's a gradual change. Or, does it have to be? As it says in "Ask and You Shall Receive", 'don't slow down to steer around the trees. Remove the trees.
I feel so overwhelmed. I feel like I have so many personality traits and things that need to be changed to become an effective person.
Maybe I don't need to be effective. Maybe I need to just let go and do the best I can in each and every moment that presents itself. I was reading up on Karma yesterday. A lot of things were hitting home with me on that. I am not always kind. I am often times lazy and will gladly put off until tomorrow what I could do today. Why? To slow down my course around the trees, that's why. I want to move slower than the universe seems to want me to move at. It is my attempt that controlling the universe. Maybe it's time to pull out some trees. I think it must be.
Who fucking cares.
Seriously. If I try to prove that my mood is seriously affected by my diet, anyone can counteract that. How can I prove that? Are there tests I can take - medical, scientific tests I can take to justify to everyone that the food is the root cause? That there is no real need for anti-depressants; just a need to clean up our eating and to express ourselves clearly?
Is this what I am out to do with this blog? Prove a point? Be named smartest, most daring eater of all the land? Change the eating and pill-taking habits of the world?
Sigh. I can't do all that. Nobody will change until they need to.
Today I saw a sign: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." It hit me - I'm running around trying to be a fucking teacher. I am shouting at the horses, "Hey! The water! It's HERE! Come over HERE! Drink up drink up!" And all the students and all the horses are going go fuck yourself.
So, maybe I can just share what I am experiencing. Let's see ...
I am back up to 225. I am eating nothing but yeast and sugar based products. This is exactly how I was eating before the fast. My nose is red and hurts in the front corners from my little candida camps. My nose is constantly dripping. This morning I was wiping my drippy nose on my hand, and I got this flash of how I never understood how cocaine addicts found the side effect of a dripping nose worth the high of the drug. It became clear that I was at the same point. My side effects were evident. But my drugs are legal. Ain't no cop busting me for donut possesion and a gram of sugar.
I feel crabby and hopeless all at once. Whispy and whiny. Oh woe is me! I hate even writing this fucking blog right now, because it's all whiny and complainy.
Today I was talking with a co-worker, and I noticed how much I LOVE bitching. Bitching about how unloved I am by my family.
It is two days before christmas, and the term "As you sow so shall you reap" is running through my head. The only Christmas card I've received is from a co-worker. She's only known me for the last few months. I didn't send her one. I didn't send any to my family. They didn't send me any. I didn't send any to my friends. They didn't send me any.
I've sown, so I have reaped.
But this isn't to cry about that. However, I do feel that I isolate myself very easily. I guess this blog is isolating as well. But I don't feel I can talk with them about my changes. I don't know that I want to. Maybe it's just me, but I want new friends - friends that are caring and loving and non-judgemental.
I don't think it's my friends that are the uncaring and unloving and judgemental ones. I think I am projecting that on to them. I think they've just given up trying to get a caring and loving and non-judgemental response from me.
I think about Scrooge, and how he immediately became happy. Um, I don't think so. I think it's a gradual change. Or, does it have to be? As it says in "Ask and You Shall Receive", 'don't slow down to steer around the trees. Remove the trees.
I feel so overwhelmed. I feel like I have so many personality traits and things that need to be changed to become an effective person.
Maybe I don't need to be effective. Maybe I need to just let go and do the best I can in each and every moment that presents itself. I was reading up on Karma yesterday. A lot of things were hitting home with me on that. I am not always kind. I am often times lazy and will gladly put off until tomorrow what I could do today. Why? To slow down my course around the trees, that's why. I want to move slower than the universe seems to want me to move at. It is my attempt that controlling the universe. Maybe it's time to pull out some trees. I think it must be.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Depression and Dunkacinnos
I am depressed. I have been eating animal products, and I feel dark and gloomy. I don't feel I have enough energy to live this life. I am sick of having to put in all this effing effort. I want to sleep all the time because my dreams are interesting - more interesting, it seems, than my waking life.
All the fasting and healthy eating info says, "Once you go on a fast and know how great it feels, you will have a hard time going back to the foods that got you in trouble in the first place." Not me, brother. I am right back on that bucking bronco - only instead of actively working to stay on, I'm just kind of lolling around on its back, whining about how much I dislike being there.
The other day at work, I was talking with a co-worker about eating. She used to be heavier, and after doing Weight Watchers, lost probably 30 pounds and has kept it off for the last approximately five years.
I was talking about drinking the water - how I like drinking water, but to drink all the water I'm supposed to drink in a day is A LOT of water. And that it just gets boring. She laughed and said, "I know. Also, I don't feel I need to eat all that much. I just want to eat sometimes."
This resonated in me - somebody else who feels that same dilemma of knowing our bodies don't NEED all that food - it's just fun to EAT the food.
We talked about that for a little while, along with a heavier guy who works with us. I mentioned doing a water fast - I didn't say for how long I did it, just that I've been playing with it. He said that he had done a month long water fast when he was younger. I think it was his polite way to demonstrate that he's dabbled, too. I just hope to conquer mine. Talking about the experience here can only help me move forward.
However, not quite. My addiction on sugar is strong - I have been eating Milky Way candy bars and Dunkin Donuts Dunkaccinos the last few days. Both of these items are all I've been craving. I had two vegetarian Jimmy Johns subs last night for dinner. I wasn't hungry, I simply felt the need to shove myself full of food. I had a McDonald's quarter pounder with cheese meal for lunch. It was the soda I was really craving. This sugar addiction of mine is no different than being an alcoholic - the other day at work I left my wallet at home, and wanted a Milky Way candy bar so bad I wanted to kill someone for one. I asked people for change, like a crack addict on the corner. People gave me the money, but the machine was not working and I couldn't get my fix. This enfuriated me. I could not wait until work was over so I could go to the grocery store. I bought 3 King Sized Milky Way bars, and ate them over the course of the last 24 hours.
I think I am going to go back on the fast after the new year. I'd like to get back down to 211 before fasting again - this is the weight I was at when I decided to start the experiment of gaining the weight since I kept being so afraid of losing the weight. But maybe it's better to just do what i can when I can instead of being so rigid about when to start. If I go 21-28 days for this next one, I can expect to drop 30-40 pounds. Would take me down to about 189 - 178. That would be good. Then I can do another longer fast and see what happens then.
Maybe all this fasting and then shoving food into me is just another way of beating mysself and my body up. I feel a little uncomfortable reporting on it. However, I feel the need to talk about it, and I get so sick of group dynamics - all these people who think they are doing the most amazing things on earth. Isn't it clear that I am the one doing the amazing things? Ugh - I hate it when I see my own ego. I gotta go for today. Talk with you soon.
All the fasting and healthy eating info says, "Once you go on a fast and know how great it feels, you will have a hard time going back to the foods that got you in trouble in the first place." Not me, brother. I am right back on that bucking bronco - only instead of actively working to stay on, I'm just kind of lolling around on its back, whining about how much I dislike being there.
The other day at work, I was talking with a co-worker about eating. She used to be heavier, and after doing Weight Watchers, lost probably 30 pounds and has kept it off for the last approximately five years.
I was talking about drinking the water - how I like drinking water, but to drink all the water I'm supposed to drink in a day is A LOT of water. And that it just gets boring. She laughed and said, "I know. Also, I don't feel I need to eat all that much. I just want to eat sometimes."
This resonated in me - somebody else who feels that same dilemma of knowing our bodies don't NEED all that food - it's just fun to EAT the food.
We talked about that for a little while, along with a heavier guy who works with us. I mentioned doing a water fast - I didn't say for how long I did it, just that I've been playing with it. He said that he had done a month long water fast when he was younger. I think it was his polite way to demonstrate that he's dabbled, too. I just hope to conquer mine. Talking about the experience here can only help me move forward.
However, not quite. My addiction on sugar is strong - I have been eating Milky Way candy bars and Dunkin Donuts Dunkaccinos the last few days. Both of these items are all I've been craving. I had two vegetarian Jimmy Johns subs last night for dinner. I wasn't hungry, I simply felt the need to shove myself full of food. I had a McDonald's quarter pounder with cheese meal for lunch. It was the soda I was really craving. This sugar addiction of mine is no different than being an alcoholic - the other day at work I left my wallet at home, and wanted a Milky Way candy bar so bad I wanted to kill someone for one. I asked people for change, like a crack addict on the corner. People gave me the money, but the machine was not working and I couldn't get my fix. This enfuriated me. I could not wait until work was over so I could go to the grocery store. I bought 3 King Sized Milky Way bars, and ate them over the course of the last 24 hours.
I think I am going to go back on the fast after the new year. I'd like to get back down to 211 before fasting again - this is the weight I was at when I decided to start the experiment of gaining the weight since I kept being so afraid of losing the weight. But maybe it's better to just do what i can when I can instead of being so rigid about when to start. If I go 21-28 days for this next one, I can expect to drop 30-40 pounds. Would take me down to about 189 - 178. That would be good. Then I can do another longer fast and see what happens then.
Maybe all this fasting and then shoving food into me is just another way of beating mysself and my body up. I feel a little uncomfortable reporting on it. However, I feel the need to talk about it, and I get so sick of group dynamics - all these people who think they are doing the most amazing things on earth. Isn't it clear that I am the one doing the amazing things? Ugh - I hate it when I see my own ego. I gotta go for today. Talk with you soon.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Hovering Between the Old and the New
I've been neither trying to lose weight nor trying to gain weight. I've been eating like I did ... actually, I've been eating like I did about three years ago - each meal containing a meat entree.
I can feel a ball of something moving it's way very slowly through my intestines. If I massage that area of my lower belly, it's sensitive. It feels like a brick about the size of those little pink bouncy balls. I'm not sure if it's a hunk of cheese or meat or bread or what, but I distinctly feel it and can mark it's progress as it winds it's way through my intestines.
Yesterday I had lower back pain, my right ankle has an intermittent shooting pain, my skin is dry and I've been having migraine headaches again. I googled "signs of dehydration," and every single one of my ailments, according to this site, went back to not drinking enough water. My vertebrae do not have enough water to cushion the joints, my brain and eyes are not getting enough water and creating a headache to let me know. My ankle is under-hydrated. My organs are leeching water from my skin in order to function.
I drank the water, and sure enough, everything cleared up. So, riddle solved. However, I am just plain so bored with drinking water! I know I sound whiny and complainy, but seriously - yesterday I went and looked up how much water I need to be drinking to effectively water my body. The easiest calculation is to take your weight, divide it in half and that's how many ounces you need a day.
This morning the scale read 223. I've been hovering between 224 and 221 for the last week. That means, I need about 112 ounces of water a day.
FUCK! That's a lot of water! That's just shy of a gallon a day.
I found this totally depressing. I calculated how much I would need if I weighed 117 pounds. That's 59 ounces, or 5 12-oz containers a day.
The recommendations are all 8-10 8 ounce glasses a day. I just found it depressing that this action of having to conciously water myself every day will continue - no matter how much or little I weigh. I am the epitome of lazy - I'd really rather just be able to hook up to an IV and inject the water in me. Once a day, done. Like putting fuel in a car.
Last night I went out for dinner. Had steak fajitas. I was grossed out by the blood dripping on my plate. Then, when I would bite in to them, I got a little nauseous when I hit a vein of fat, and had to tug to get the piece pulled apart so I could chew it. The friend I had dinner with knows I've been primarily vegetarian the last two years, and was a little surprised that I was eating meat. I've been trying to figure this out myself - why the meat binge of late? Maybe, I don't like being locked in to a label. And "vegetarian" has such a self-righteous tone to it. I don't want to be self-righteous. I just want to be healthy.
I do get self-righteous about how we are marketed to believe we need so much meat. I get angry, actually. People get all tough talking about how yummy it is to eat veal, or pork chops, or steak. When I say something that it's a baby or teenaged cow or pig they are eating, they cover they're ears and say, "Oh, I don't want to know that!" That enfuriates me. You talk to me like I can't handle eating the fucking meat, like I'm just too sensitive to do what everybody else is tough enough to do. REally. You are tough enough to ingest dead animal flesh? Dead animals that we kill in horrible deaths, just so we can slap some bacon on our second cheeseburger of the day? It pisses me off that there is more and more evidence that a meat-heavy diet is detrimental to our health; however, it seems to me that when I don't eat meat with other people, it makes them tense. They seem to scold me - "Where are you getting your protein?!" Like I'm some kid who won't eat what Mom is telling her she needs to eat. I think Mom is wrong. Or they think, well, she's a vegetarian, I know someone who's a vegetarian, so that somehow makes me healthier by association. Like how people who believe in Jesus do - Jesus is a good guy, I believe in Jesus; therefore, I get to be a big sloppy asshole, cuz Jesus makes up for all the shit I don't make an effort to do myself.
I want people to do their own work. I want to share my experiences so people know there's a difference in how the body works and feels when it operates on different foods, because until I started experimenting, I didn't know. I thought smelly shits and coughing up pleghm was just a part of life. It's not. The more I experiment with fasting and raw foods, the less I see a need to eat animal protein.
I think I feel like I don't fit in because of this diet, and sometimes want to eat meat just so I'm not different. Oh, poor me! Another benefit of this blog - I've been very unclear about what makes me want to eat meat with others. I now know that this is my stance - I have eaten meat. Plenty of it. I am tough enough to eat meat. I am even tougher than most - I have pet the very pig that wound up as a pork chop on the table. I have seen first-hand the conditions the cows and pigs are living in before they die, and if you fucking steak-eating fucks knew that the steak you are rolling around in your mouth was standing ankle deep in it's own shit a week-prior, you'd reconsider how yummy that hunk of meat is. Or, maybe you are tough enough to eat shit, too. Who knows.
Wow. I have a lot of anger about this. I guess I just get angry when people blindly do what they are told. And to me, the meat industry just has really good advertising and marketing, and people buy into it. Dieticians say we need animal protein. That's all well and good - have they themselves tested whether or not we do? Or are they just reiterating what someone else told them. It's not always bad to do what someone else did, because I think everything has a reason. But it's like the old joke about the kid asking the mom why we cut the ends off the ham before we cook it. The mom responds, Because we need to. The mom goes and asks her mom why we cut the ends off the ham. The grandma responds, because we need to. The grandma goes back and asks the great grandma, why do we cut the ends off the ham before we cook it? The great grandma says, because it didn't fit in the pan.
All I'm saying is to know what you are eating, and why you are eating it. I am learning myself. I think now that I know I go back to eating meat out of a desire to fit in and hopefully be liked more, that I will be able to stand on my own knowledge the next time. Now that I've expressed my rage to my non-existent audience here, I won't need to the next time I'm confronted with a self-righteous meat eater. Oh, well, we're all figuring it out as we go. Until next time.
I can feel a ball of something moving it's way very slowly through my intestines. If I massage that area of my lower belly, it's sensitive. It feels like a brick about the size of those little pink bouncy balls. I'm not sure if it's a hunk of cheese or meat or bread or what, but I distinctly feel it and can mark it's progress as it winds it's way through my intestines.
Yesterday I had lower back pain, my right ankle has an intermittent shooting pain, my skin is dry and I've been having migraine headaches again. I googled "signs of dehydration," and every single one of my ailments, according to this site, went back to not drinking enough water. My vertebrae do not have enough water to cushion the joints, my brain and eyes are not getting enough water and creating a headache to let me know. My ankle is under-hydrated. My organs are leeching water from my skin in order to function.
I drank the water, and sure enough, everything cleared up. So, riddle solved. However, I am just plain so bored with drinking water! I know I sound whiny and complainy, but seriously - yesterday I went and looked up how much water I need to be drinking to effectively water my body. The easiest calculation is to take your weight, divide it in half and that's how many ounces you need a day.
This morning the scale read 223. I've been hovering between 224 and 221 for the last week. That means, I need about 112 ounces of water a day.
FUCK! That's a lot of water! That's just shy of a gallon a day.
I found this totally depressing. I calculated how much I would need if I weighed 117 pounds. That's 59 ounces, or 5 12-oz containers a day.
The recommendations are all 8-10 8 ounce glasses a day. I just found it depressing that this action of having to conciously water myself every day will continue - no matter how much or little I weigh. I am the epitome of lazy - I'd really rather just be able to hook up to an IV and inject the water in me. Once a day, done. Like putting fuel in a car.
Last night I went out for dinner. Had steak fajitas. I was grossed out by the blood dripping on my plate. Then, when I would bite in to them, I got a little nauseous when I hit a vein of fat, and had to tug to get the piece pulled apart so I could chew it. The friend I had dinner with knows I've been primarily vegetarian the last two years, and was a little surprised that I was eating meat. I've been trying to figure this out myself - why the meat binge of late? Maybe, I don't like being locked in to a label. And "vegetarian" has such a self-righteous tone to it. I don't want to be self-righteous. I just want to be healthy.
I do get self-righteous about how we are marketed to believe we need so much meat. I get angry, actually. People get all tough talking about how yummy it is to eat veal, or pork chops, or steak. When I say something that it's a baby or teenaged cow or pig they are eating, they cover they're ears and say, "Oh, I don't want to know that!" That enfuriates me. You talk to me like I can't handle eating the fucking meat, like I'm just too sensitive to do what everybody else is tough enough to do. REally. You are tough enough to ingest dead animal flesh? Dead animals that we kill in horrible deaths, just so we can slap some bacon on our second cheeseburger of the day? It pisses me off that there is more and more evidence that a meat-heavy diet is detrimental to our health; however, it seems to me that when I don't eat meat with other people, it makes them tense. They seem to scold me - "Where are you getting your protein?!" Like I'm some kid who won't eat what Mom is telling her she needs to eat. I think Mom is wrong. Or they think, well, she's a vegetarian, I know someone who's a vegetarian, so that somehow makes me healthier by association. Like how people who believe in Jesus do - Jesus is a good guy, I believe in Jesus; therefore, I get to be a big sloppy asshole, cuz Jesus makes up for all the shit I don't make an effort to do myself.
I want people to do their own work. I want to share my experiences so people know there's a difference in how the body works and feels when it operates on different foods, because until I started experimenting, I didn't know. I thought smelly shits and coughing up pleghm was just a part of life. It's not. The more I experiment with fasting and raw foods, the less I see a need to eat animal protein.
I think I feel like I don't fit in because of this diet, and sometimes want to eat meat just so I'm not different. Oh, poor me! Another benefit of this blog - I've been very unclear about what makes me want to eat meat with others. I now know that this is my stance - I have eaten meat. Plenty of it. I am tough enough to eat meat. I am even tougher than most - I have pet the very pig that wound up as a pork chop on the table. I have seen first-hand the conditions the cows and pigs are living in before they die, and if you fucking steak-eating fucks knew that the steak you are rolling around in your mouth was standing ankle deep in it's own shit a week-prior, you'd reconsider how yummy that hunk of meat is. Or, maybe you are tough enough to eat shit, too. Who knows.
Wow. I have a lot of anger about this. I guess I just get angry when people blindly do what they are told. And to me, the meat industry just has really good advertising and marketing, and people buy into it. Dieticians say we need animal protein. That's all well and good - have they themselves tested whether or not we do? Or are they just reiterating what someone else told them. It's not always bad to do what someone else did, because I think everything has a reason. But it's like the old joke about the kid asking the mom why we cut the ends off the ham before we cook it. The mom responds, Because we need to. The mom goes and asks her mom why we cut the ends off the ham. The grandma responds, because we need to. The grandma goes back and asks the great grandma, why do we cut the ends off the ham before we cook it? The great grandma says, because it didn't fit in the pan.
All I'm saying is to know what you are eating, and why you are eating it. I am learning myself. I think now that I know I go back to eating meat out of a desire to fit in and hopefully be liked more, that I will be able to stand on my own knowledge the next time. Now that I've expressed my rage to my non-existent audience here, I won't need to the next time I'm confronted with a self-righteous meat eater. Oh, well, we're all figuring it out as we go. Until next time.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Meat Shoving
It is now week three back on the Standard American Diet - as in, meat heavy meals.
Does anyone ever stop to think about how tough this diet is to process? Does anyone realize the difference in body chemistry on meat and off meat? Am I even allowed to ponder those questions, without meat eaters and the meat producers getting all pissay and dramatic about questioning their habits and product?
The last time I checked in with you, I had been eating sandwiches. I was leaning toward red meat items. The other day I was at a training, and I tried eating a roast beef sandwich. I couldn't. I had one bite and then stayed with the vegetarian pasta salad and the potato salad. Although, I'm not naive - I know that mayo contains egg as well as the brownie I ate. So I was not choosing animal-product free foods.
The last three days it's been chicken. I have eaten at KFC every day. I got past the acid reflux - but now what am I experiencing? Itchy bunghole. That's right. It ain't pretty and it ain't polite, but that's what I got going on right now. All I've been eating is mashed potatoes, maybe half a biscuit, and a thigh and drumstick. And my butt hole itches like a mother fucker.
Doesn't that make sense? My fingers have re-instated their peeling abilities full force. My left foot is hesitently creating new little peelable-skin camps. My nose has it's little camps firmly set up in the front corners again. It would only make sense to me that the parasitic yeast that is populating inside me and eeking out my extremities would of course have a large spot at the edge of the cliff, aka, the poop shoot. They are right there, anyway, working their way through the intestines. Seems only right a few would hang on and hold on right there.
I wonder what it is about chicken and mashed potatos that generates the itchiness that I am experiencing. But it is. It's very uncomfortable. But, I'm living with it. I wonder how many other people have this experience, but don't question it's cause. Medically, I cannot say without a doubt that it is caused by chicken and mashed potatoes and biscuits. But I can tell you, that has been a major player in my diet. And things are not all that pleasant physically.
My legs are still extremely dry. I am simply not drinking as much water, as well as eating foods that require more liquids to process. My legs are taking the beating on that. Also, the skin on my face continues to look chalky, and I am broken out. Just a constant state of broken out. It's not pretty. But I'm not changing my eating habits yet.
I am seeing just how much I use food to comfort and/or distract me from things that are going on in my life. I am stressed about a few things - I eat and it's all gone.
Here's today's revelation: I was at KFC today, eating my lunch of a thigh and a drumstick and mashed potatoes. I have been doing inner child work in the other parts of my self development. So, I ask my inner child - we're at her five-year-old level - what she wants for lunch.
We get the meal, and I get a chocolate parfait dessert and a lemon parfait dessert. One for me, one for her if you know what I mean. So, I eat the meal, and I'm in the zone - I'm eating, I'm reading a book, I'm not looking around at any other patrons - it is my and my chicken in an intimate moment.
I get done with the chicken, and open up one of the parfaits. I have a couple bites, and as I do so, I notice that I am looking around the restaurant, looking at other people. In my imagination, I refocus on my inner child.
That's when I realized the cause of my own relationship to sweets. I realized that when we ate as a family, we were heads down, fork to mouth, balls to the walls, shoving as much food into us as possible; out of fear of getting enough food at that meal, out of determination to get satiated, out of wanting to efficiently get through eating so we could move on to the next task.
It wasn't until I myself realized that I had gotten back into relationship with myself and my surroundings once the food was consumed. Dessert was a bonus, an extra time to relax and hang out, but still part of the "meal" time, so it counted as valid use of time.
I realized then that is what I craved when I craved sweets - I craved that period of time when we would be in relationship with each other, we'd playfully interact, we'd relax and take a moment. There was still fear around getting your share of the sweets, but overall, it was bonus, because the meal was already consumed. Dessert was chill time. It could be stretched out as long as the dessert did.
Maybe that's why we all devoured dessert until there was no dessert left - because we all subconciously desired that playful time with each other. We rarely allowed a crumb of dessert left over for the next meal. It was grab it while you can at our house growing up.
Today it occured to me that we weren't really grabbing for desserts. We were grabbing for love, and wouldn't stop eating it until it was gone. And it did disappear - once dessert was gone, it was either get back to work, or go do your own thing and everyone scattered. There was no being in relationship if there was no food or no task to be in relationship over. Keep in mind how task-like food was to us. Tasks were big in my family growing up. You didn't count unless you were doing something.
Anyway, so in my imagination, at lunch today, when I got done scarfing down all my chicken, and I relaxed as I opened up my little dessert cups, I heard my inner child say to me, "Oh, good. We can talk now. I don't really care about eating - I just like it when I can have your attention back."
Man that rocked my world. It shook my entire understanding of how my family gets along, and cemented why I don't feel happier around them, even though I desperately want their love.
So, It was a good revelation today. Not sure how to overcome this for the holidays. But, realzing how much I crave the interaction more than the food wa a big deal.
Does anyone ever stop to think about how tough this diet is to process? Does anyone realize the difference in body chemistry on meat and off meat? Am I even allowed to ponder those questions, without meat eaters and the meat producers getting all pissay and dramatic about questioning their habits and product?
The last time I checked in with you, I had been eating sandwiches. I was leaning toward red meat items. The other day I was at a training, and I tried eating a roast beef sandwich. I couldn't. I had one bite and then stayed with the vegetarian pasta salad and the potato salad. Although, I'm not naive - I know that mayo contains egg as well as the brownie I ate. So I was not choosing animal-product free foods.
The last three days it's been chicken. I have eaten at KFC every day. I got past the acid reflux - but now what am I experiencing? Itchy bunghole. That's right. It ain't pretty and it ain't polite, but that's what I got going on right now. All I've been eating is mashed potatoes, maybe half a biscuit, and a thigh and drumstick. And my butt hole itches like a mother fucker.
Doesn't that make sense? My fingers have re-instated their peeling abilities full force. My left foot is hesitently creating new little peelable-skin camps. My nose has it's little camps firmly set up in the front corners again. It would only make sense to me that the parasitic yeast that is populating inside me and eeking out my extremities would of course have a large spot at the edge of the cliff, aka, the poop shoot. They are right there, anyway, working their way through the intestines. Seems only right a few would hang on and hold on right there.
I wonder what it is about chicken and mashed potatos that generates the itchiness that I am experiencing. But it is. It's very uncomfortable. But, I'm living with it. I wonder how many other people have this experience, but don't question it's cause. Medically, I cannot say without a doubt that it is caused by chicken and mashed potatoes and biscuits. But I can tell you, that has been a major player in my diet. And things are not all that pleasant physically.
My legs are still extremely dry. I am simply not drinking as much water, as well as eating foods that require more liquids to process. My legs are taking the beating on that. Also, the skin on my face continues to look chalky, and I am broken out. Just a constant state of broken out. It's not pretty. But I'm not changing my eating habits yet.
I am seeing just how much I use food to comfort and/or distract me from things that are going on in my life. I am stressed about a few things - I eat and it's all gone.
Here's today's revelation: I was at KFC today, eating my lunch of a thigh and a drumstick and mashed potatoes. I have been doing inner child work in the other parts of my self development. So, I ask my inner child - we're at her five-year-old level - what she wants for lunch.
We get the meal, and I get a chocolate parfait dessert and a lemon parfait dessert. One for me, one for her if you know what I mean. So, I eat the meal, and I'm in the zone - I'm eating, I'm reading a book, I'm not looking around at any other patrons - it is my and my chicken in an intimate moment.
I get done with the chicken, and open up one of the parfaits. I have a couple bites, and as I do so, I notice that I am looking around the restaurant, looking at other people. In my imagination, I refocus on my inner child.
That's when I realized the cause of my own relationship to sweets. I realized that when we ate as a family, we were heads down, fork to mouth, balls to the walls, shoving as much food into us as possible; out of fear of getting enough food at that meal, out of determination to get satiated, out of wanting to efficiently get through eating so we could move on to the next task.
It wasn't until I myself realized that I had gotten back into relationship with myself and my surroundings once the food was consumed. Dessert was a bonus, an extra time to relax and hang out, but still part of the "meal" time, so it counted as valid use of time.
I realized then that is what I craved when I craved sweets - I craved that period of time when we would be in relationship with each other, we'd playfully interact, we'd relax and take a moment. There was still fear around getting your share of the sweets, but overall, it was bonus, because the meal was already consumed. Dessert was chill time. It could be stretched out as long as the dessert did.
Maybe that's why we all devoured dessert until there was no dessert left - because we all subconciously desired that playful time with each other. We rarely allowed a crumb of dessert left over for the next meal. It was grab it while you can at our house growing up.
Today it occured to me that we weren't really grabbing for desserts. We were grabbing for love, and wouldn't stop eating it until it was gone. And it did disappear - once dessert was gone, it was either get back to work, or go do your own thing and everyone scattered. There was no being in relationship if there was no food or no task to be in relationship over. Keep in mind how task-like food was to us. Tasks were big in my family growing up. You didn't count unless you were doing something.
Anyway, so in my imagination, at lunch today, when I got done scarfing down all my chicken, and I relaxed as I opened up my little dessert cups, I heard my inner child say to me, "Oh, good. We can talk now. I don't really care about eating - I just like it when I can have your attention back."
Man that rocked my world. It shook my entire understanding of how my family gets along, and cemented why I don't feel happier around them, even though I desperately want their love.
So, It was a good revelation today. Not sure how to overcome this for the holidays. But, realzing how much I crave the interaction more than the food wa a big deal.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Irritable bowels but Happy Go Lucky mood
Let's see. The other day, after eating two bagel sandwiches in one day, I got a killer migraine headache. Again, I did not drink enough water, which I know seems really obvious to do. But eating the dry bread I think requires even more water to process. My headache felt like my body was squeezing any bit of water it could from any part of the body it could, and it went to the frontal lobe of my brain to see what it could squeeze out there. They say dehydration effects your mental capability, because there's not enough water to keep the brain's actions flowing. I think that is quite true.
I went home that night and just went to sleep. Woke up feeling better. But I think my body has re-adjusted to eating the breads and animal proteins. I had egg sandwiches for breakfast yesterday, and felt fine. I had chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. No problem. I even had caffeine yesterday. That was interesting - I needed to stay up late last night, and the soda and little bit of coffee I had kept me up easily until 4 am this morning. So that was cool, to see how I can use the stimulants in small doses to help me if I need them. Didn't get everything done I wanted to, should have maybe tried just taking more caffeine, but oh well.
My lower belly feels jelly again. My neck is starting to feell stiff again. All that clearing out of the pain is slowly creeping back on. In just two weeks time of eating the Standard American Diet, all the benefits of taking off from eating are creeping back on. It is interesting to see how quickly it reappears.
I think when I am ready to go back to the fasting, I am going to add in sun gazing, and see how that affects the fasting experience. I saw HRM speak on how he lives on water, sunlight, and maybe some vegetable juices and teas to be polite when people offer coffee. But he says the sunglight provides all his nutrients. We are living beings like plants, he says, and our nutrients come from gentle, early morning or late evenings levels of sunlight. So, once I get ready to fast again, I'm going to see if I notice a difference adding that in. I live in Chicago, and it's December, so it might be pretty tricky seeing any sunlight. But we'll give it a go.
That's it. My face is still chalky and dry, my skin is dry, my lips are chapped and dry. I am drinking probably 60-75 ounces of water a day - I delude myself into thinking that I am getting thirst quenched when I am eating, but I do not think this is the case. I'm going to make a concerted effort to drink all the water I'm supposed to. The funny thing to me is that it seems like so much to get into me; the food plus the water is a lot of shoving into my system. But, I know my chapped lips are a sign for more water.
I'm not working out, other than walking to the train station or my car that's always blocks away. Speaking of - I gotta go. I parked over night for free in a meter, and just remembered that they now charge for parking on Sundays starting at 8 am. It's 10 am on Sunday - hopefully nobody's been up yet to ticket. I'll let you know if I escaped unticketed. Talk with you soon.
I went home that night and just went to sleep. Woke up feeling better. But I think my body has re-adjusted to eating the breads and animal proteins. I had egg sandwiches for breakfast yesterday, and felt fine. I had chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. No problem. I even had caffeine yesterday. That was interesting - I needed to stay up late last night, and the soda and little bit of coffee I had kept me up easily until 4 am this morning. So that was cool, to see how I can use the stimulants in small doses to help me if I need them. Didn't get everything done I wanted to, should have maybe tried just taking more caffeine, but oh well.
My lower belly feels jelly again. My neck is starting to feell stiff again. All that clearing out of the pain is slowly creeping back on. In just two weeks time of eating the Standard American Diet, all the benefits of taking off from eating are creeping back on. It is interesting to see how quickly it reappears.
I think when I am ready to go back to the fasting, I am going to add in sun gazing, and see how that affects the fasting experience. I saw HRM speak on how he lives on water, sunlight, and maybe some vegetable juices and teas to be polite when people offer coffee. But he says the sunglight provides all his nutrients. We are living beings like plants, he says, and our nutrients come from gentle, early morning or late evenings levels of sunlight. So, once I get ready to fast again, I'm going to see if I notice a difference adding that in. I live in Chicago, and it's December, so it might be pretty tricky seeing any sunlight. But we'll give it a go.
That's it. My face is still chalky and dry, my skin is dry, my lips are chapped and dry. I am drinking probably 60-75 ounces of water a day - I delude myself into thinking that I am getting thirst quenched when I am eating, but I do not think this is the case. I'm going to make a concerted effort to drink all the water I'm supposed to. The funny thing to me is that it seems like so much to get into me; the food plus the water is a lot of shoving into my system. But, I know my chapped lips are a sign for more water.
I'm not working out, other than walking to the train station or my car that's always blocks away. Speaking of - I gotta go. I parked over night for free in a meter, and just remembered that they now charge for parking on Sundays starting at 8 am. It's 10 am on Sunday - hopefully nobody's been up yet to ticket. I'll let you know if I escaped unticketed. Talk with you soon.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Eating What I Want and Losing Weight
The concept for this period in between fasts is maybe not turning out like I thought it would. At first I thought I was doing this for health - I mean, I am; overall my goal is health. It just seems to me I have to go through the shit before I get to the good health.
Excuse or truth - that will be seen in about a year from now when we see how far or little I've come along.
Part of what's inspired this experiment for me is that I read in a book that to get out of eating poorly, the person has to go through eating poorly. This is to uncover the real reasons for the eating. Don't deny the donut; eat the donut. Don't deny or punish yourself - give yourself everything you think you want. Eventually, when you stop restricting yourself and just allow yourself to nourish yourself, you will realize the foods you thought were nourishing are not. You will naturally, and relatively effortlessly, find yourself winding your way down to a healthier and natural weight.
That's what I had been doing before I started the 14 day fast. And I know that my body started that fast because it couldn't take anymore of what I had been feeding it. Six months of processing Ding Dongs and pizza can be hard on a body.
Based on my experience so far, I think that philosophy of the only way out is through is true. I have gone on diets before, I have lost weight, and then gained it back. Why not try the "trust my body" route? It certainly can't be any worse than my prior attempts at weight management.
I'm a week and a half into the break I planned between fasts. I don't feel anywhere near ready to start a water fast again. Physically, I know I can do another one; if other people have done it, other people who are thinner than me were able to last 21-28 days on a water fast, then I know I have the body fat available for my body to feed on for that long as well.
It's the emotional side of starting another fast that I'm unsure of.
Because of this: Food is a comfort to me. Water is not.
Don't get me wrong, I know I need water, I know I'm not getting far without it whether I'm fasting or not. But it's not the item that I reach for when I'm feeling scared, or sad, or lonely. Oh, no, the gallon of distilled water does not do the same things for me emotionally as the gallon of ice cream does. Ok, so I've never eaten a gallon of ice cream in one sitting. I've eaten a pint of ice cream. With some brownies. Maybe some cookies. And pizza. And garlic breadsticks. Or maybe mozzerella sticks or jalepeno poppers instead. Or with. And all washed down with diet soda.
That is comfort to me.
So, it's been interesting during this little food break to see what foods I crave each day. The first few days off the fast, it was pizza and pasta. Then, it was a few days of avocado and grapefruit, diced up into a chunky salsa-esque creation, with a touch of olive oil and sea salt, scooped into my mouth via Frito Scoops. I could not get enough of those - I felt like I was cramming my intestines full of avocados and grapefruits for about three days straight. Then, the last few days, it's been sandwiches, or foods with meat - I had a hamburger the other morning, a turkey sub the other night. A gyro. Yesterday morning I had a roast beef and muenster cheese sandwich with horseradish sauce on a sesame bagel from one of my favorite bagel shops in town. I could go for another one of those today - I think I might have one for dinner. When will that craving end? And again - is this an emotional craving, or a physical craving for protein and iron? Or, is it just to get me some bread to feed the parasite inside me?
Let's explore the craving I will be feeding later today: the roast beef bagel sandwich. There is a bagel shop in town that I am specifially wanting this from. This shop was somewhere I would go to lunch at my last job, before they went out of business. I had some other creative work going on at that time as well, on the side, which I have since stopped. Am I craving that creativity, that feeling of hope and change, that seemed to infuse everything I ate then? The guys that work in the shop were always friendly - I didn't go that often, but they always knew me and would give me deals with a wink and a smile, making me feel pretty and liked. It begs the question: what part of that meal am I craving? The nutritional nourishment, or the emotional nourishment?
When I went yesterday, the guy behind the countert recognized me, I could tell, but couldn't quite place me. If I go back tonight, will he say, "Hey! You used to come in all the time! Where you been?!" Is that all I'm really craving? Guess I'll find that out.
I was at first concerned about wanting all this meat. However, all of my meat cravings have had one common thread; that is, being served with some type of bread or carb. So, is it the meat I want, or the carbohydrate that it's being served on?
I have to admit, I am very surprised at how easily my body seems to have allowed me to jump from no food, to huge sandwich portions. Know how with a baby, you feed it breast milk, then pureed vegetables, and then meat? Well, not this baby. I took my body and slammed it from 1st gear into 4th. And this amazing engine just seems to take it. I really beat the shit out of my body. I hope to temper that habit as well.
Back to the meat and bread cravings. Here's another thought on what I might be seeking in them. There's a definite ritual with sandwiches; both in how they are made and how they are eaten. I find comfort in that. Buy a restaurant burger - you know exactly what's there and in what order to find it. If you make a burger or sandwich or sub yourself, there's an order, a right and wrong way to make it. In eating it, there's also comfort. I like to start on one corner, hop over to the other corner, and then eat the middle piece that's left. Then, like a typewriter, go on to the next row. There's a pattern. When everything else is a mess, I know that when I eat that sandwich, I will know exactly how to do it in a way that makes me feel happy and in control. And when it's all gone and I lick my fingers, there's a slight sadness that it had to come to an end. Another would be ordered, if it weren't for the stomach being pushed to it's limit for fitting all that in at once.
I know what you're thinking - wow. Way to over analyze a sandwich.
Well, here's the thing: something has to be analyzed. There is something definitely off about my relationship with food. I've always secretly known that food is not just a way to provide my body nourishment. It is way more than that to me.
I've tried dismissing the pain and difficulty I've had in changing my eating habits by joking that I wish I were an alcoholic instead. At least as an alcoholic, you can stop going to bars, you can empty your liquor cabinet, you can change friends and hang out with new people who no longer drink. Not that that's easy, but to me, it seems way easier than when your love and your comfort is food. The reasons behind every food-related action and choice has to be analyzed. Because if it's not, if it's not picked apart and broken down into it's root causes, the eating will never change. The foods will keep being taken, like little self-medicating pills. Only these pills create problems that will eventually require other pills and more drastic health measures.
That is, until they are broken apart and analyzed. Freedom exists in the analyzation.
At least for me. If you can have a sandwich, or some pizza, or a cookie, and stop when you are satisfied, then you don't have the same issues I do and most likely have no need to analyze your eating the way I need to.
I look at this like this - I am sorting out which foods are the drugs, and which foods are the physical nourishment. That's what this blog is to me. I'm not out to label certain foods as good or bad. They might not be for the majority of people, and I certainly don't think that the person who created the chocolare chip cookie had malitious intentions. However, for me, at least until I get a handle on my body and my eating, I have to sort my foods into camps. I hope that I will either learn how to eat the soon-to-be-labeled "bad" foods in moderation, or get to a point where I simply do not crave them any longer. And then I will let them go as easily as a balloon floating off into the great unknown... :) We shall see.
This morning the scale read 219. Yesterday, all I ate was that roast beef bagel sandwich, some corn chips, and a grande mocha coffee. I've been a little afraid that shoving all this animal flesh into me would make the scale jump. It hasn't. I have to admit, I find that a little surprising. I have experienced, however, a rash on my legs the last few days. My inner thighs itch terribly, and there is a large dark rose colored section from my knee to my groin on each inner thigh. The skin on my legs and arms and face is extremely dry. I have a smattering of red spots on my face - I tried to pop them like zits, but they don't pop. They're strange, I don't think I've experienced this before. My face looks chalky - it does not look juicy and vibrant like it did on the water fast, or when I've done raw foods in the past. The skin around my fingers peels easily again, and that little camp that I think is candida on the pad of my left foot seems to be gaining strength. That's it for physical updates. Talk with you again soon.
Excuse or truth - that will be seen in about a year from now when we see how far or little I've come along.
Part of what's inspired this experiment for me is that I read in a book that to get out of eating poorly, the person has to go through eating poorly. This is to uncover the real reasons for the eating. Don't deny the donut; eat the donut. Don't deny or punish yourself - give yourself everything you think you want. Eventually, when you stop restricting yourself and just allow yourself to nourish yourself, you will realize the foods you thought were nourishing are not. You will naturally, and relatively effortlessly, find yourself winding your way down to a healthier and natural weight.
That's what I had been doing before I started the 14 day fast. And I know that my body started that fast because it couldn't take anymore of what I had been feeding it. Six months of processing Ding Dongs and pizza can be hard on a body.
Based on my experience so far, I think that philosophy of the only way out is through is true. I have gone on diets before, I have lost weight, and then gained it back. Why not try the "trust my body" route? It certainly can't be any worse than my prior attempts at weight management.
I'm a week and a half into the break I planned between fasts. I don't feel anywhere near ready to start a water fast again. Physically, I know I can do another one; if other people have done it, other people who are thinner than me were able to last 21-28 days on a water fast, then I know I have the body fat available for my body to feed on for that long as well.
It's the emotional side of starting another fast that I'm unsure of.
Because of this: Food is a comfort to me. Water is not.
Don't get me wrong, I know I need water, I know I'm not getting far without it whether I'm fasting or not. But it's not the item that I reach for when I'm feeling scared, or sad, or lonely. Oh, no, the gallon of distilled water does not do the same things for me emotionally as the gallon of ice cream does. Ok, so I've never eaten a gallon of ice cream in one sitting. I've eaten a pint of ice cream. With some brownies. Maybe some cookies. And pizza. And garlic breadsticks. Or maybe mozzerella sticks or jalepeno poppers instead. Or with. And all washed down with diet soda.
That is comfort to me.
So, it's been interesting during this little food break to see what foods I crave each day. The first few days off the fast, it was pizza and pasta. Then, it was a few days of avocado and grapefruit, diced up into a chunky salsa-esque creation, with a touch of olive oil and sea salt, scooped into my mouth via Frito Scoops. I could not get enough of those - I felt like I was cramming my intestines full of avocados and grapefruits for about three days straight. Then, the last few days, it's been sandwiches, or foods with meat - I had a hamburger the other morning, a turkey sub the other night. A gyro. Yesterday morning I had a roast beef and muenster cheese sandwich with horseradish sauce on a sesame bagel from one of my favorite bagel shops in town. I could go for another one of those today - I think I might have one for dinner. When will that craving end? And again - is this an emotional craving, or a physical craving for protein and iron? Or, is it just to get me some bread to feed the parasite inside me?
Let's explore the craving I will be feeding later today: the roast beef bagel sandwich. There is a bagel shop in town that I am specifially wanting this from. This shop was somewhere I would go to lunch at my last job, before they went out of business. I had some other creative work going on at that time as well, on the side, which I have since stopped. Am I craving that creativity, that feeling of hope and change, that seemed to infuse everything I ate then? The guys that work in the shop were always friendly - I didn't go that often, but they always knew me and would give me deals with a wink and a smile, making me feel pretty and liked. It begs the question: what part of that meal am I craving? The nutritional nourishment, or the emotional nourishment?
When I went yesterday, the guy behind the countert recognized me, I could tell, but couldn't quite place me. If I go back tonight, will he say, "Hey! You used to come in all the time! Where you been?!" Is that all I'm really craving? Guess I'll find that out.
I was at first concerned about wanting all this meat. However, all of my meat cravings have had one common thread; that is, being served with some type of bread or carb. So, is it the meat I want, or the carbohydrate that it's being served on?
I have to admit, I am very surprised at how easily my body seems to have allowed me to jump from no food, to huge sandwich portions. Know how with a baby, you feed it breast milk, then pureed vegetables, and then meat? Well, not this baby. I took my body and slammed it from 1st gear into 4th. And this amazing engine just seems to take it. I really beat the shit out of my body. I hope to temper that habit as well.
Back to the meat and bread cravings. Here's another thought on what I might be seeking in them. There's a definite ritual with sandwiches; both in how they are made and how they are eaten. I find comfort in that. Buy a restaurant burger - you know exactly what's there and in what order to find it. If you make a burger or sandwich or sub yourself, there's an order, a right and wrong way to make it. In eating it, there's also comfort. I like to start on one corner, hop over to the other corner, and then eat the middle piece that's left. Then, like a typewriter, go on to the next row. There's a pattern. When everything else is a mess, I know that when I eat that sandwich, I will know exactly how to do it in a way that makes me feel happy and in control. And when it's all gone and I lick my fingers, there's a slight sadness that it had to come to an end. Another would be ordered, if it weren't for the stomach being pushed to it's limit for fitting all that in at once.
I know what you're thinking - wow. Way to over analyze a sandwich.
Well, here's the thing: something has to be analyzed. There is something definitely off about my relationship with food. I've always secretly known that food is not just a way to provide my body nourishment. It is way more than that to me.
I've tried dismissing the pain and difficulty I've had in changing my eating habits by joking that I wish I were an alcoholic instead. At least as an alcoholic, you can stop going to bars, you can empty your liquor cabinet, you can change friends and hang out with new people who no longer drink. Not that that's easy, but to me, it seems way easier than when your love and your comfort is food. The reasons behind every food-related action and choice has to be analyzed. Because if it's not, if it's not picked apart and broken down into it's root causes, the eating will never change. The foods will keep being taken, like little self-medicating pills. Only these pills create problems that will eventually require other pills and more drastic health measures.
That is, until they are broken apart and analyzed. Freedom exists in the analyzation.
At least for me. If you can have a sandwich, or some pizza, or a cookie, and stop when you are satisfied, then you don't have the same issues I do and most likely have no need to analyze your eating the way I need to.
I look at this like this - I am sorting out which foods are the drugs, and which foods are the physical nourishment. That's what this blog is to me. I'm not out to label certain foods as good or bad. They might not be for the majority of people, and I certainly don't think that the person who created the chocolare chip cookie had malitious intentions. However, for me, at least until I get a handle on my body and my eating, I have to sort my foods into camps. I hope that I will either learn how to eat the soon-to-be-labeled "bad" foods in moderation, or get to a point where I simply do not crave them any longer. And then I will let them go as easily as a balloon floating off into the great unknown... :) We shall see.
This morning the scale read 219. Yesterday, all I ate was that roast beef bagel sandwich, some corn chips, and a grande mocha coffee. I've been a little afraid that shoving all this animal flesh into me would make the scale jump. It hasn't. I have to admit, I find that a little surprising. I have experienced, however, a rash on my legs the last few days. My inner thighs itch terribly, and there is a large dark rose colored section from my knee to my groin on each inner thigh. The skin on my legs and arms and face is extremely dry. I have a smattering of red spots on my face - I tried to pop them like zits, but they don't pop. They're strange, I don't think I've experienced this before. My face looks chalky - it does not look juicy and vibrant like it did on the water fast, or when I've done raw foods in the past. The skin around my fingers peels easily again, and that little camp that I think is candida on the pad of my left foot seems to be gaining strength. That's it for physical updates. Talk with you again soon.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Losing it Again?
Real quick post today.
This morning the scale was down 4 pounds, to 219 1/2. I don't know how this is possible, as ! ate 8 avocaodos and 6 grapefruit in three sittings yesterday. I chunked the avocado and grapefruit up, mixed it together, and got it into my mouth via Fritos Scoops.
Somehow, this translated into a 4 pound weight loss over night. Strange.
I have not been drinking enough water. My skin is dry, my legs are all itchy with a rash and dead skin. My hands are dry, I've got new blemishes on my face. I'm not sure if they are cleansing from the avocado, or a re-establishment of the candida from the corn in the chips.
The inside corners of my nose hurt, but there is not much new growth in there.
My fingers are peeling easily again. There is a slight flair up of the the fungus that had been on the bottom of my left foot. It's not nearly as bad as it was, but there does seem to be a resurgence.
I want to eat a gyro as well as a turkey sub today. Meat: the very food I publicly swear off. Am I just fooling myself thinking I can live a life without it? Does my body need animal protein, despite what the raw and whole foodists say? Or, am I just hooked on it like sugar or caffeine - is it something I will eventually not crave any longer? I feel so full of shit. but I want it today and am eating it. I will report the effects tomorrow. Thank you.
This morning the scale was down 4 pounds, to 219 1/2. I don't know how this is possible, as ! ate 8 avocaodos and 6 grapefruit in three sittings yesterday. I chunked the avocado and grapefruit up, mixed it together, and got it into my mouth via Fritos Scoops.
Somehow, this translated into a 4 pound weight loss over night. Strange.
I have not been drinking enough water. My skin is dry, my legs are all itchy with a rash and dead skin. My hands are dry, I've got new blemishes on my face. I'm not sure if they are cleansing from the avocado, or a re-establishment of the candida from the corn in the chips.
The inside corners of my nose hurt, but there is not much new growth in there.
My fingers are peeling easily again. There is a slight flair up of the the fungus that had been on the bottom of my left foot. It's not nearly as bad as it was, but there does seem to be a resurgence.
I want to eat a gyro as well as a turkey sub today. Meat: the very food I publicly swear off. Am I just fooling myself thinking I can live a life without it? Does my body need animal protein, despite what the raw and whole foodists say? Or, am I just hooked on it like sugar or caffeine - is it something I will eventually not crave any longer? I feel so full of shit. but I want it today and am eating it. I will report the effects tomorrow. Thank you.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Sick of It
This morning the scale read 225. That is marginally inspiring.
Jesus Christ what have I done?
I'm sick of worrying about my weight, about what I eat, what I drink. What a whiny bitch am I. I just want to get the weight off.
As a kid, I used to day dream about having enough money to go to one of those celebrity spas, for a few months, and then emerge this thin, happy, well-adjusted person.
I think that's what I thought the fasting would do.
I ordered some intestinal flora to finish off a cleansing program I had purchased last year. I just received the package tonight - they sent me a whole new set, when all I requested was the flora. That's fine as long as I didn't get billed for it.
But I'll tell ya, when I opened that box, a whole lotta resentment hit me at the same time. Fuck all this cleansing, all this holistic bullshit. Tonight after work I went and got a half dozen chicken tenders. Remember all the preaching about not eating meat? Well, I think I eat meat when I feel angry and want to destroy something. It's like I get a slight hit from knowing that this fucking chicken, or cow, or pig, died just because I felt like eating something fried and bad for me. So go ahead and take it, chicken. Take that. Cuz I don't have the guts to really take it out on the people I am really angry with.
I'm gonna tell the truth - I threw it up afterwards. I felt so fucking gross and sick to my stomach. I can't eat much now except healthy foods. I try to put unhealthy stuff in me. But my body doesn't like it so much.
Yesterday this was the big thing I experienced. I had decided I would only eat healthy. Then I went past a coffee shop and got two pastries. I ate them both, and within two hours I had a horrible headache and felt awful. I didn't eat again until this morning, when I had some avocado and grapefruit. I looked up what nutrients this combination has - they both have cleansing properties and are good for the heart and arteries. Makes sense to me.
So part of me is glad my body is revolting against the stuff I am trying to put into it. Part of me is angry that it has to be an issue at all. I don't want to think about my weight anymore. I hear these stories about how if you give yourself the foods you think you want, eventually your body will bring itself to balance and you will naturally find your natural weight. This is what I want. It seems to be moving in that direction.
What troubles me is my strong desire to sabotage my efforts.
Yesterday with the pastries - I no more than thought to myself, yeah, I want to get the healthy stuff, I said, Oh! But I'd better make sure I'm done with cinnamon rolls, first. Same thing with the chicken tonight. Chicken gives me nasty acid reflux, and I really don't enjoy eating it. But I needed to eat some chicken tenders. I seek to destroy myself on a continual basis. How will I ever move past that?
I am teeter-tottering back and forth between eating all natural foods, and then chowing on shit. I sure hope this balances out soon.
I know I need to start that cleanse, but god I feel so resentful of it. LIke, all I wanted was the flora. The fact that a whole new kit showed up just made me feel so forced; like the gods are like, Oh, no. You need to get cleaned out in there.
I'm crabby. Standard American Diet makes me very crabby. Yet I feel so loyal to it.
I am supposed to go out with friends tonight. I feel crabby, fat and unattractive. I bought a new shirt and shoes to go out, I got new jeans last week. I'm sure if 14 of the 20 pounds I just lost haven't reappeared on me, I'd be more up for being social. Right now I just don't feel like being the heffer among the hot chicks.
Also, a guy friend of mine from high school just moved to Chicago and found me via the many social networking tools out there. I am a full fifty pounds heavier than when I graduated. I feel like a slug. I don't want to see him or anyone until I'm lighter.
This weight experiment has done me no good. I still hate myself being overweight, and I don't feel any more secure being thin. This train is wrecked. Talk with you tomorrow.
Jesus Christ what have I done?
I'm sick of worrying about my weight, about what I eat, what I drink. What a whiny bitch am I. I just want to get the weight off.
As a kid, I used to day dream about having enough money to go to one of those celebrity spas, for a few months, and then emerge this thin, happy, well-adjusted person.
I think that's what I thought the fasting would do.
I ordered some intestinal flora to finish off a cleansing program I had purchased last year. I just received the package tonight - they sent me a whole new set, when all I requested was the flora. That's fine as long as I didn't get billed for it.
But I'll tell ya, when I opened that box, a whole lotta resentment hit me at the same time. Fuck all this cleansing, all this holistic bullshit. Tonight after work I went and got a half dozen chicken tenders. Remember all the preaching about not eating meat? Well, I think I eat meat when I feel angry and want to destroy something. It's like I get a slight hit from knowing that this fucking chicken, or cow, or pig, died just because I felt like eating something fried and bad for me. So go ahead and take it, chicken. Take that. Cuz I don't have the guts to really take it out on the people I am really angry with.
I'm gonna tell the truth - I threw it up afterwards. I felt so fucking gross and sick to my stomach. I can't eat much now except healthy foods. I try to put unhealthy stuff in me. But my body doesn't like it so much.
Yesterday this was the big thing I experienced. I had decided I would only eat healthy. Then I went past a coffee shop and got two pastries. I ate them both, and within two hours I had a horrible headache and felt awful. I didn't eat again until this morning, when I had some avocado and grapefruit. I looked up what nutrients this combination has - they both have cleansing properties and are good for the heart and arteries. Makes sense to me.
So part of me is glad my body is revolting against the stuff I am trying to put into it. Part of me is angry that it has to be an issue at all. I don't want to think about my weight anymore. I hear these stories about how if you give yourself the foods you think you want, eventually your body will bring itself to balance and you will naturally find your natural weight. This is what I want. It seems to be moving in that direction.
What troubles me is my strong desire to sabotage my efforts.
Yesterday with the pastries - I no more than thought to myself, yeah, I want to get the healthy stuff, I said, Oh! But I'd better make sure I'm done with cinnamon rolls, first. Same thing with the chicken tonight. Chicken gives me nasty acid reflux, and I really don't enjoy eating it. But I needed to eat some chicken tenders. I seek to destroy myself on a continual basis. How will I ever move past that?
I am teeter-tottering back and forth between eating all natural foods, and then chowing on shit. I sure hope this balances out soon.
I know I need to start that cleanse, but god I feel so resentful of it. LIke, all I wanted was the flora. The fact that a whole new kit showed up just made me feel so forced; like the gods are like, Oh, no. You need to get cleaned out in there.
I'm crabby. Standard American Diet makes me very crabby. Yet I feel so loyal to it.
I am supposed to go out with friends tonight. I feel crabby, fat and unattractive. I bought a new shirt and shoes to go out, I got new jeans last week. I'm sure if 14 of the 20 pounds I just lost haven't reappeared on me, I'd be more up for being social. Right now I just don't feel like being the heffer among the hot chicks.
Also, a guy friend of mine from high school just moved to Chicago and found me via the many social networking tools out there. I am a full fifty pounds heavier than when I graduated. I feel like a slug. I don't want to see him or anyone until I'm lighter.
This weight experiment has done me no good. I still hate myself being overweight, and I don't feel any more secure being thin. This train is wrecked. Talk with you tomorrow.
Friday, December 4, 2009
What Am I Really Doing This For?
Ok, so, I'm about a week into this two-week break I'm taking between fasts.
I have gained back 16 pounds in a six day period - that's almost three pounds a day back on, compared with the two-pounds a day that took it off.
How can that possibly be? I will give you I'm not just eating salads and greens, but actual meals. Are the meals that high in calories? I assure you, no.
I feel so angry about the weight just jumping back on to me. I really thought I'd have about five pounds come sneak back on. Not almost all of the twenty I'd lost.
So now it begs the question: What am I fasting for? Is it really for the purity of cleaning out my system? Or, for what seems like quick and dirty weight loss?
I guess it's time for all coy-ness to end here today: I am a female, somewhere between 5'7" and 5'6" tall. I currently weigh 227 pounds. Three months ago, I weighed 243. I have been hovering the last few months at 233 - I just could not get myself to go lower.
I have been a size 14 for as long as I can remember. As a little girl, as a teenager, as an adult. As an adult, I have lost a significant amount of weight a few different times - each time then gaining it back as a way to escape the unexpected attention that generates when men see an attractive body. What I did for my health somehow became something men wanted to make their own property. I found this very uncomfortable, and returned to the safety of the weight to make them go away.
I'm in my mid 30s, and I'm sick of hiding out from my life. There are a lot of things I put onto being thin - finding true love, finding the great career, finding happiness. I really just want to be thin for my own health. But becoming thin had other side effects. More guys became interested in me; guys who wouldn't even give me eye contact when I was heavier. How am I supposed to sort through all these guys? Everything changed. I was uncomfortable. I ran back into the safety of the higher numbers on the scale.
The trajectory has been like this: starting college, I weighed 170. I got down to 150 pounds - guys crawled out of the woodwork to date me. I got scared and gained the weight back, getting up to 180. After college I lost weight again, getting down to 155. Again, new found attention sent me running back up the scale, and then some. Now I got up to 190. I got a bug to lose that weight, got down to 155 again, and panicked again at the attention. It's like I have to gain more weight to keep the guys away. In recent years, I've been hovering around 211.
It's been over the last five years that I have gained and lost the same 30 pounds. Down to 180, back up to 211, down, up, down, up. Finally, a few months ago, I'd had enough. I couldn't bear the thought of losing the same fucking 30 pounds again. I had to do something different. But what?
If I couldn't go down, I thought, then all I can do is go up.
It all became so clear to me; I am going to gain weight. If I think that guys treat me so differently, if I think girls get so jealous of me, if I think people are only nice to thin people and mean to fat people, then why don't I get fat and test that theory? What if I get fat to prove that people aren't mean to fat people - that maybe they are mean to mean people, and bitchy to bitchy people, and like people who simply like people? Maybe it has been all in my head. Maybe my weight has nothing to do with it at all.
So, I forced myself up the scale to 243.
Why 243, you ask? Well, because to me, a fat person weighs over 200 pounds. I was already over 200 pounds, and my friends and family would always say, "Oh, you're not fat. You're just big boned. But you are not fat."
Big bones are bullshit, I think, but that is yet to be seen. However, I thought, well, if I'm not fat at 211, then how about 250? What would they think then.
I gain the weight. I start noticing looks of pity, of concern. I notice silence around me where there used to be reassurance. Aha, I thought. Finally, they can no longer blame my weight on my bones. I found it interesting to see their reactions.
I hit 243 and did not go higher. Quite honestly, I was concerned about my health - it was getting harder to walk, my knees began hurting, I was not enjoying it. I justified that my scale is 7 pounds lighter than my doctor's office. 243/250 - close enough. My health was clearly being jeopordized. It was time to take it off.
So, I start just walking and not intentionally eating so much. The first 10 pounds dropped off. But then I stayed there. I think I became frozen: am I really going to be able to do this? Am i really going to be able to take this weight off? Do I really even want to be thin?
All of these questions are part of this experience. What is being thin to me? What will that look like, aside from the obvious? What type of person will I be? Will I change into a self-righteous, skinny bitch? Or just ease into another version of myself?
It remains to be seen. My goal is health, but interactions among other people affect me. I am learning to be true to myself. That's as much a part of this weight experiment as anything.
Overall, I want health. I will have to learn to naviagate the rest.
Back to the fasting concept. I did like it; if for no other reason than I didn't worry about food or eating. After just a few days of eating foods with carbs in them, I have both my thumbs and my index fingers peeling skin again. Big, huge chunks of skin. Also, my nose has the soreness in the front corner, where my little camps were living before. All after just 6 days.
So, it's back on the band wagon. I feel very much like an alcoholic - carbs are my drug. It's quite clear to me.
I think the blog is helping. Even though none of you are reading is yet, it's public, and therefore making me forge ahead. Thanks for reading and letting me share this experience. I hope to deliver to you my promise of losing the weight and getting down into a healthy range.
So, do I keep with my plan of fasting again, for 21-28 days this next time? I think so. That was the plan as it came to me, so I think I need to stay with that. Maybe if I just stop the carbs, the weight will fall off again. So which is the real weight? That remains to be seen. Thanks again. Talk at you tomorrow.
I have gained back 16 pounds in a six day period - that's almost three pounds a day back on, compared with the two-pounds a day that took it off.
How can that possibly be? I will give you I'm not just eating salads and greens, but actual meals. Are the meals that high in calories? I assure you, no.
I feel so angry about the weight just jumping back on to me. I really thought I'd have about five pounds come sneak back on. Not almost all of the twenty I'd lost.
So now it begs the question: What am I fasting for? Is it really for the purity of cleaning out my system? Or, for what seems like quick and dirty weight loss?
I guess it's time for all coy-ness to end here today: I am a female, somewhere between 5'7" and 5'6" tall. I currently weigh 227 pounds. Three months ago, I weighed 243. I have been hovering the last few months at 233 - I just could not get myself to go lower.
I have been a size 14 for as long as I can remember. As a little girl, as a teenager, as an adult. As an adult, I have lost a significant amount of weight a few different times - each time then gaining it back as a way to escape the unexpected attention that generates when men see an attractive body. What I did for my health somehow became something men wanted to make their own property. I found this very uncomfortable, and returned to the safety of the weight to make them go away.
I'm in my mid 30s, and I'm sick of hiding out from my life. There are a lot of things I put onto being thin - finding true love, finding the great career, finding happiness. I really just want to be thin for my own health. But becoming thin had other side effects. More guys became interested in me; guys who wouldn't even give me eye contact when I was heavier. How am I supposed to sort through all these guys? Everything changed. I was uncomfortable. I ran back into the safety of the higher numbers on the scale.
The trajectory has been like this: starting college, I weighed 170. I got down to 150 pounds - guys crawled out of the woodwork to date me. I got scared and gained the weight back, getting up to 180. After college I lost weight again, getting down to 155. Again, new found attention sent me running back up the scale, and then some. Now I got up to 190. I got a bug to lose that weight, got down to 155 again, and panicked again at the attention. It's like I have to gain more weight to keep the guys away. In recent years, I've been hovering around 211.
It's been over the last five years that I have gained and lost the same 30 pounds. Down to 180, back up to 211, down, up, down, up. Finally, a few months ago, I'd had enough. I couldn't bear the thought of losing the same fucking 30 pounds again. I had to do something different. But what?
If I couldn't go down, I thought, then all I can do is go up.
It all became so clear to me; I am going to gain weight. If I think that guys treat me so differently, if I think girls get so jealous of me, if I think people are only nice to thin people and mean to fat people, then why don't I get fat and test that theory? What if I get fat to prove that people aren't mean to fat people - that maybe they are mean to mean people, and bitchy to bitchy people, and like people who simply like people? Maybe it has been all in my head. Maybe my weight has nothing to do with it at all.
So, I forced myself up the scale to 243.
Why 243, you ask? Well, because to me, a fat person weighs over 200 pounds. I was already over 200 pounds, and my friends and family would always say, "Oh, you're not fat. You're just big boned. But you are not fat."
Big bones are bullshit, I think, but that is yet to be seen. However, I thought, well, if I'm not fat at 211, then how about 250? What would they think then.
I gain the weight. I start noticing looks of pity, of concern. I notice silence around me where there used to be reassurance. Aha, I thought. Finally, they can no longer blame my weight on my bones. I found it interesting to see their reactions.
I hit 243 and did not go higher. Quite honestly, I was concerned about my health - it was getting harder to walk, my knees began hurting, I was not enjoying it. I justified that my scale is 7 pounds lighter than my doctor's office. 243/250 - close enough. My health was clearly being jeopordized. It was time to take it off.
So, I start just walking and not intentionally eating so much. The first 10 pounds dropped off. But then I stayed there. I think I became frozen: am I really going to be able to do this? Am i really going to be able to take this weight off? Do I really even want to be thin?
All of these questions are part of this experience. What is being thin to me? What will that look like, aside from the obvious? What type of person will I be? Will I change into a self-righteous, skinny bitch? Or just ease into another version of myself?
It remains to be seen. My goal is health, but interactions among other people affect me. I am learning to be true to myself. That's as much a part of this weight experiment as anything.
Overall, I want health. I will have to learn to naviagate the rest.
Back to the fasting concept. I did like it; if for no other reason than I didn't worry about food or eating. After just a few days of eating foods with carbs in them, I have both my thumbs and my index fingers peeling skin again. Big, huge chunks of skin. Also, my nose has the soreness in the front corner, where my little camps were living before. All after just 6 days.
So, it's back on the band wagon. I feel very much like an alcoholic - carbs are my drug. It's quite clear to me.
I think the blog is helping. Even though none of you are reading is yet, it's public, and therefore making me forge ahead. Thanks for reading and letting me share this experience. I hope to deliver to you my promise of losing the weight and getting down into a healthy range.
So, do I keep with my plan of fasting again, for 21-28 days this next time? I think so. That was the plan as it came to me, so I think I need to stay with that. Maybe if I just stop the carbs, the weight will fall off again. So which is the real weight? That remains to be seen. Thanks again. Talk at you tomorrow.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Eating Like a Crazy Person
So I spent two weeks on nothing but water. If I felt hunger, I immediately filled it with water.
Now, I am filling it with food. And filling it I am.
The thought of having an empty stomach is terrifying to me. I don't know why the obvious lesson from the fast - being that I'm probably just thristy and not hungry - isn't sticking with me, or why I am choosing to ignore it. But I am ignoring it. I'm drinking half the water I was. I'm eating instead.
Actually, I'm being a little hard on myself. I am eating about one meal a day now, which is much more filling to me than before. Yesterday I ate two meals - spaghetti for lunch, and pizza for dinner. I had salads as appetizers for both meals, but the main course was certainly the carbs.
I am justifying this by saying I am getting those cravings out of the way. I do believe this to be true. This morning I woke up, and peeled the top layer of skin off my thumb. Ah, it's not gone yet. I need to get back to no more breads to stop the feeding of that parasite inside of me.
I'm rather afraid of anything I eat these days. For one thing, all the weight I lost is just tumbling back on to me. I am up fifteen pounds. Fifteen! You say, sure, sure, you're only eating one meal a day; must be a 3,500 calorie meal. No. It's not. I think it's because I'm not drinking as much water and the food (ie, carbs) are re-toxifying me.
I start a flax seed cleanse next week. We'll see what happens with that.
I was hoping to do the following: eat/do the flax seed cleanse for this week and next, then go back to a water fast, this time doing a 21 - 28 day fast. I want to get that candida out of me, and I felt the two week helped a lot but I think four weeks could really knock it out. Then, go back to solids for 3-4 weeks, then go on a 40 day fast. This would be about the same time as easter, which I think would be spritually very cool.
But I am depressed - I have so much I feel I need to overcome in this lifetime! The way I fill myself with food is the same way I tie up my money - I am completely uncomfortable having openings in my life, for fear someone else will come and try to fill it. If I fill it, I control it. So I'm controlling it; only not the way I want. It's all interconnected, and yesterday I was filled with gloom and doom about it.
I'm not happy in my career. I'm not miserable. I'm past the point of miserable. I feel like the walking dead. What do I do next? That's the big question. It's not clear to me. Then, this eating thing. I was so excited that I was down 20 pounds. Now, I'm back up 14. WTF!!!! This depresses me as well - I can't even get my own body to work with me. My finances are not quite a train wreck, but definitely not on the track I want them on. Everything is wrong. I feel so depressed.
I was so happy on the fast. Delirious, maybe, but at least I was happy. I want to get onto raw foods again just to have that happiness consume me.
I could start exercising. Oh, here's my other depression point. I was planning on dropping all this weight via fasting, and then start strength training to build back up. Made sense to me - clear out, build up. But, that seems I'm going to have to start exercising. I don't mind exercising - I like it, actually. I'm just don't feel I have time for all this.
I no longer feel I have one career I'm focusing on. I have a day job and a career I want to build. I am sick of the day job. I want to focus on the one career. I'm sick of it. I'm full of self pity and despair of late. I want God to just wave his effing magic wand and give it to me. I've worked, I've put in the time, I've been patient. But yesterday I was helping a customer find some small item, and I got tears in my eyes because I continuously find myself on the workhorse end of the job - not the team lead end of things.
I feel like I have to put in 50 times more effort than other people around me. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong? I try to stay positive, but my mood immediately goes south when I'm not eating right. I just want to walk into work today, tell them thanks but I'm gone, and never go back. When will I be able to do that with a different career waiting for me? I can't stand it anymore. I just want to focus on the life I want.
Now, I am filling it with food. And filling it I am.
The thought of having an empty stomach is terrifying to me. I don't know why the obvious lesson from the fast - being that I'm probably just thristy and not hungry - isn't sticking with me, or why I am choosing to ignore it. But I am ignoring it. I'm drinking half the water I was. I'm eating instead.
Actually, I'm being a little hard on myself. I am eating about one meal a day now, which is much more filling to me than before. Yesterday I ate two meals - spaghetti for lunch, and pizza for dinner. I had salads as appetizers for both meals, but the main course was certainly the carbs.
I am justifying this by saying I am getting those cravings out of the way. I do believe this to be true. This morning I woke up, and peeled the top layer of skin off my thumb. Ah, it's not gone yet. I need to get back to no more breads to stop the feeding of that parasite inside of me.
I'm rather afraid of anything I eat these days. For one thing, all the weight I lost is just tumbling back on to me. I am up fifteen pounds. Fifteen! You say, sure, sure, you're only eating one meal a day; must be a 3,500 calorie meal. No. It's not. I think it's because I'm not drinking as much water and the food (ie, carbs) are re-toxifying me.
I start a flax seed cleanse next week. We'll see what happens with that.
I was hoping to do the following: eat/do the flax seed cleanse for this week and next, then go back to a water fast, this time doing a 21 - 28 day fast. I want to get that candida out of me, and I felt the two week helped a lot but I think four weeks could really knock it out. Then, go back to solids for 3-4 weeks, then go on a 40 day fast. This would be about the same time as easter, which I think would be spritually very cool.
But I am depressed - I have so much I feel I need to overcome in this lifetime! The way I fill myself with food is the same way I tie up my money - I am completely uncomfortable having openings in my life, for fear someone else will come and try to fill it. If I fill it, I control it. So I'm controlling it; only not the way I want. It's all interconnected, and yesterday I was filled with gloom and doom about it.
I'm not happy in my career. I'm not miserable. I'm past the point of miserable. I feel like the walking dead. What do I do next? That's the big question. It's not clear to me. Then, this eating thing. I was so excited that I was down 20 pounds. Now, I'm back up 14. WTF!!!! This depresses me as well - I can't even get my own body to work with me. My finances are not quite a train wreck, but definitely not on the track I want them on. Everything is wrong. I feel so depressed.
I was so happy on the fast. Delirious, maybe, but at least I was happy. I want to get onto raw foods again just to have that happiness consume me.
I could start exercising. Oh, here's my other depression point. I was planning on dropping all this weight via fasting, and then start strength training to build back up. Made sense to me - clear out, build up. But, that seems I'm going to have to start exercising. I don't mind exercising - I like it, actually. I'm just don't feel I have time for all this.
I no longer feel I have one career I'm focusing on. I have a day job and a career I want to build. I am sick of the day job. I want to focus on the one career. I'm sick of it. I'm full of self pity and despair of late. I want God to just wave his effing magic wand and give it to me. I've worked, I've put in the time, I've been patient. But yesterday I was helping a customer find some small item, and I got tears in my eyes because I continuously find myself on the workhorse end of the job - not the team lead end of things.
I feel like I have to put in 50 times more effort than other people around me. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong? I try to stay positive, but my mood immediately goes south when I'm not eating right. I just want to walk into work today, tell them thanks but I'm gone, and never go back. When will I be able to do that with a different career waiting for me? I can't stand it anymore. I just want to focus on the life I want.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
3 Days Back on Food, 9 Pounds Back on Body
I feel foolish.
So I lost 20 pounds on my water fast. I expected, once I got back on food, to gain maybe five pounds back.
I got on the scale this morning and gasped in suprise and horror.
Nine pounds.
Nine!
That is 10,000 calories in 3 days - the fast ended Saturday morning and it's now Tuesday morning. Which didn't happen. I think my body was so shocked with how I came off the fast that it's protecting itself a little bit.
The books all say that to come off a fast, you should ease your body in with juices, and work your way up to solid food. Well, I did that - only I did it in a 12 hour period instead of a 12 day period.
Here's how it went:
Saturday morning at 9 am my fast ended. I went and got a double shot of wheat grass to celebrate. I had friends coming in that afternoon for a party I was having. I got the food, all healthy and fresh items, nothing with artificial anything in it. I had some of that that afternoon.
That night, we went out for pizza. Since I've been getting rid of the Candida I am certain is inside of me, I was curious to see what would happen if I tried eating pizza. Would I turn into a monster, craving more and more and more?
Sort of.
That night, I could only eat about 2/3 of the piece I took. Prior to the fast I was just on, I could have easily eaten two full pieces, and even three. But that night, I was relieved to find I just couldn't muster it.
However, the cravings were strong for that carbohydrate treat. On Sunday, I worked all day and was going to a movie that night with a friend. All I could think of was getting a pizza from my favorite pizza place in town.
The movie was at 6:30. This did not allow me enough time to get to the pizza place after the movie. I picked up a small pizza on my way to the movie, and put it in my trunk so I could have some afterwards.
It haunted me all through the movie - I want the pizza, I want the pizza, I want the pizza. Finally, the movie is over (I want the pizza), I drop my friend off at home (god I want that pizza) I drive home (I can't wait to eat that pizza), and now, at last, I am alone. Just me and my pizza to enjoy each other's company.
Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was not as good as it would have been hot out of the oven. However, this time, too; I could only eat part of one slice. All it looked like to me was a big glob of yeast with a spattering of vegetables on top. It just wasn't enticing any more. It was a yeast ball.
Not to be defeated, Monday, yesterday, I had off from work and was running errands. I decide I would give it another go, going there for lunch and seeing if that made a difference, eating it hot and melty instead of weepy and cold. Alas, they were closed. I went to my next most craved option: the Pizza Hut stand in my Target.
There, I order a cheese pizza, breadsticks, and extra marinara. I ate all the breadsticks, using both containers of marinara. But could only get through 3/4 of the pizza. Again, the pizza just did not do for me what I dreamed it would.
I get home, and fall into a carb coma. Ah, yes, my well known and much loved carb coma. Better able to take me away than a Calgon bath. Only now, I am enlightened, so I say to myself, whooh, I'm tired, I think I'm going to meditate laying down. This is denial and code for, "I am about to pass out." Booze is not my problem. Drugs are not my problem. Yeast, cheese and sugar - those are my problems. It has become apparent in recent years that they may be problematic for me, but never so obvious to me as yesterday. I had some peanut M&Ms and Reese's Mini Peanut Butter Cups just for good measure. I fell asleep at about 2 and woke up at 5.
And just like how I used to spend my days off before, 3 hours of my life evaporated.
I finished off the evening eating grapefruit and avocado with olive oil to clean me out. Fats are supposed to be good for clearing out toxins. So, overall, I hope the weight gain is temporary.
While I am accutely aware that I broke my fast in absolutely the wrong way, I'm glad I did it that way. I was holding that pizza on such a pedestal, that I know had I had to go another week or two weeks before allowing myself to have it, I would have gone just nuts on it and had even bigger binges. This way, I feel like I got rid of it quicker.
And I did. I feel I may be able to break up with it after all now. Because now it's not alluring. It's yeast. It doesn't seem as fun as it did before.
Anyway, so, that's where I'm at today. I ordered some intestinal flora this morning to help combat what's going on in my intestines. So, I can't wait till that arrives for me. I have another cleansing program that I plan to start once that flora arrives.
My cravings for the pasta are gone. Yes, that eggplant parmesan that I imagined eating while I was fasting - the thought of it does nothing for me now. I think that was all part of the pizza craving. I think allowing myself to see how I would do with it was a good idea. It's out of the way and now I can keep on with the business of clearing myself out. I'm feeling good, still clear and clean, so the bit of yeast I did have doesn't seem to be brining anything out. I'll keep you posted. Thanks for listening.
So I lost 20 pounds on my water fast. I expected, once I got back on food, to gain maybe five pounds back.
I got on the scale this morning and gasped in suprise and horror.
Nine pounds.
Nine!
That is 10,000 calories in 3 days - the fast ended Saturday morning and it's now Tuesday morning. Which didn't happen. I think my body was so shocked with how I came off the fast that it's protecting itself a little bit.
The books all say that to come off a fast, you should ease your body in with juices, and work your way up to solid food. Well, I did that - only I did it in a 12 hour period instead of a 12 day period.
Here's how it went:
Saturday morning at 9 am my fast ended. I went and got a double shot of wheat grass to celebrate. I had friends coming in that afternoon for a party I was having. I got the food, all healthy and fresh items, nothing with artificial anything in it. I had some of that that afternoon.
That night, we went out for pizza. Since I've been getting rid of the Candida I am certain is inside of me, I was curious to see what would happen if I tried eating pizza. Would I turn into a monster, craving more and more and more?
Sort of.
That night, I could only eat about 2/3 of the piece I took. Prior to the fast I was just on, I could have easily eaten two full pieces, and even three. But that night, I was relieved to find I just couldn't muster it.
However, the cravings were strong for that carbohydrate treat. On Sunday, I worked all day and was going to a movie that night with a friend. All I could think of was getting a pizza from my favorite pizza place in town.
The movie was at 6:30. This did not allow me enough time to get to the pizza place after the movie. I picked up a small pizza on my way to the movie, and put it in my trunk so I could have some afterwards.
It haunted me all through the movie - I want the pizza, I want the pizza, I want the pizza. Finally, the movie is over (I want the pizza), I drop my friend off at home (god I want that pizza) I drive home (I can't wait to eat that pizza), and now, at last, I am alone. Just me and my pizza to enjoy each other's company.
Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was not as good as it would have been hot out of the oven. However, this time, too; I could only eat part of one slice. All it looked like to me was a big glob of yeast with a spattering of vegetables on top. It just wasn't enticing any more. It was a yeast ball.
Not to be defeated, Monday, yesterday, I had off from work and was running errands. I decide I would give it another go, going there for lunch and seeing if that made a difference, eating it hot and melty instead of weepy and cold. Alas, they were closed. I went to my next most craved option: the Pizza Hut stand in my Target.
There, I order a cheese pizza, breadsticks, and extra marinara. I ate all the breadsticks, using both containers of marinara. But could only get through 3/4 of the pizza. Again, the pizza just did not do for me what I dreamed it would.
I get home, and fall into a carb coma. Ah, yes, my well known and much loved carb coma. Better able to take me away than a Calgon bath. Only now, I am enlightened, so I say to myself, whooh, I'm tired, I think I'm going to meditate laying down. This is denial and code for, "I am about to pass out." Booze is not my problem. Drugs are not my problem. Yeast, cheese and sugar - those are my problems. It has become apparent in recent years that they may be problematic for me, but never so obvious to me as yesterday. I had some peanut M&Ms and Reese's Mini Peanut Butter Cups just for good measure. I fell asleep at about 2 and woke up at 5.
And just like how I used to spend my days off before, 3 hours of my life evaporated.
I finished off the evening eating grapefruit and avocado with olive oil to clean me out. Fats are supposed to be good for clearing out toxins. So, overall, I hope the weight gain is temporary.
While I am accutely aware that I broke my fast in absolutely the wrong way, I'm glad I did it that way. I was holding that pizza on such a pedestal, that I know had I had to go another week or two weeks before allowing myself to have it, I would have gone just nuts on it and had even bigger binges. This way, I feel like I got rid of it quicker.
And I did. I feel I may be able to break up with it after all now. Because now it's not alluring. It's yeast. It doesn't seem as fun as it did before.
Anyway, so, that's where I'm at today. I ordered some intestinal flora this morning to help combat what's going on in my intestines. So, I can't wait till that arrives for me. I have another cleansing program that I plan to start once that flora arrives.
My cravings for the pasta are gone. Yes, that eggplant parmesan that I imagined eating while I was fasting - the thought of it does nothing for me now. I think that was all part of the pizza craving. I think allowing myself to see how I would do with it was a good idea. It's out of the way and now I can keep on with the business of clearing myself out. I'm feeling good, still clear and clean, so the bit of yeast I did have doesn't seem to be brining anything out. I'll keep you posted. Thanks for listening.
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