Stars in the Gutter

maps

Hilary — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 13:58:45 +0000

The reason I love maps of public transportation isn’t that I get lost a lot (which I do). Or that the public transportation in the particular town I live in is particularly useful to me (it isn’t; although I’ve started braving the bus).

Maps lay things out in bright lines, with little reassuring circles for stops. The big picture on a fold-out piece of paper.

I’m not a born leader; I hate being responsible for others. Neither am I a “joiner”; I don’t even like group therapy, let alone clubs and social organizations. Maybe I’m a follower after all . . . I like tracing the paths, reading the station names, savoring theme like exotic spices. Places I’ve never been, may never be, but visit in my dreams as I slide along the desire lines to a clearly labeled destination.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing half the time, or where I’m going.

So maybe that’s why I love this book of transportation maps so much.

Fencing

Hilary — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 17:04:14 +0000

As a lot of you know, I’ve been teeter-tottering on the diet fence these days. I’ve read a lot of books about fat acceptance, and about the flawed science behind the so-called Obesity Epidemic.

But my cholesterol is over 230, and I’m (only) 30 years old, with no strong family history indicators that I would have high cholesterol. I’m pretty damn sure the culprits are that eat crap almost all day, every day, and rarely get any exercise. And maybe I do still buy in a teensy bit to the Fantasy of Being Thin, I’m not going to let myself off the hook there; but much more central to my concerns are that walking a mile and a half exhausts me, I’m tired all the time, and I’m a malnourished overeater. Bleh. What to do?

I’m contemplating setting up a separate blog for focusing on lifestyle change. “Healthy lifestyle” is generally ill-disguised code for “diet,” but I’m hoping to go for something much more holistic. I do want to drop a few pounds. (There, I said it.) But the major focus will be on bringing down my cholesterol to below 200 and hopefully training for a 10K in early 2008. I feel like maybe some folks who have been reading this blog might feel betrayed if I start focusing on that stuff here, especially those who have found this site through the fantastic Shapely Prose. I know that Mo Pie, one of main contributors of Big Fat Deal, maintains a separate site for her diet and fitness interests, and in a way that might be a good compromise for me as well at this point.

I really do still believe that abandoning the quest for perfection is probably the best thing we can do for ourselves. So I’m not aiming for perfection; I’m aiming for energy and nourishment, to the best of my abilities. I’ll definitely let you know if I do set up a separate blog for that, or if I decide to write about nutrition and fitness on this site, or privately, or not at all.

sad panda

Hilary — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 14:54:53 +0000

Okay, that Lolcats picture doesn’t have much to do with this entry, but hey, the issue comes up often enough here. Plus it made me crack a smile, and I really needed that.

I feel like a crystal vase teetering on the edge of a table in a house full of six-year-old boys. Precariously doomed.

I got home around 6:40 yesterday evening, thoroughly exhausted from the hilly walk and feeling kind of demoralized, only to receive the results from my annual checkup in the mail. All the results came back great; with the exception of my cholesterol being a bit high.

The doctor or nurse or whoever reviewed my results had scrawled this on the bottom of the print-out:

– need to lose weight to get weight down between 115 - 140 (Weight Watchers/Jenny Craig + exercise 5X wk)

– decrease fat/cholesterol to no more than 30% total daily calories

– check fasting lipids in 3 months; if no better, need to start medicine

Sucker punch. I felt horrible. Not to mention completely drained and ready to burst into tears. How am I supposed to feel okay with my body when my doctor is telling me to join Jenny Craig?

I realize that the note was prompted by concern over my cholesterol; and I do think that higher-than-normal cholesterol is a valid issue for a health practitioner to address. The exercise and fat intake recommendations were not out of line. But with all the studies out recently which indicate that fitness rather than weight is an indicator of good health, how can they tell me that a certain weight range achieved by calorie restriction is the key to lowering my cholesterol?

I’m feeling a bit bewildered and upset. I need to do research, to see what reputable studies say specifically about the link, if any, between weight and cholesterol. If I eat nutritiously (but don’t diet or count my calories) and exercise five times a week, will that bring my cholesterol down? Or do I really need to get back into calculation mode and lose weight to get my levels safely under 200? I don’t want to have to take medicine!

But frankly this morning I’m just too damn worn out to read articles in JAMA. I wish doctors would do their own fucking homework so I wouldn’t have to.

run, hilary, run!

Hilary — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 14:24:13 +0000

I had to run for the bus today. With a huge backpack on my back. I felt like I was in middle school again.

This morning I did my first trial run of taking the bus to work. I’m trying to avoid driving the ever-unpredictable Great White except on Mondays (when I have my lunchtime therapy appointment). Anyway, it’s a 1.5 mile walk from my apartment to the closest bus stop (I calculated this very precisely on MapMyRun).

So I said to myself quite optimistically, “Surely that won’t take me more than thirty minutes to walk.”

Hah! Hah! Hah!

Fast-forward thirty minutes to me panting up a huge hill, pounding down the other side of it like a madwoman, and dashing across the intersection with a scant minute to spare. I hate running in work pants. At least I was wearing my awesome running shoes.

As faithful readers know, I get bright red when I do any form of aerobic activity. So I was still a lovely shade of lobster even after forty minutes of resting (read: drooling exhaustedly) on the bus. When I walked into work, my co-worker said euphemistically, “You look a little flushed.”

“Meh,” I said.

“But you have a healthy glow!”

Healthy glow, my ass. I’ll definitely be budgeting more time for that morning walk from now on.

unlikely overlap

Hilary — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 13:47:50 +0000

Last week I wrote about what Kate Harding of Shapely Prose dubbed the Fantasy of Being Thin (FoBT)—the misconception that once we achieve a particular weight or state of perfection everything will magically be wonderful—and how this can damage us and hold us back from fully participating in life.

I often find myself in an awkward place as I read my favorite blogs, because the writers range from those strongly allied with Fat Acceptance, to those who feel that weight loss is still very much worth pursuing. I have also recently discovered some blogs that provide a space somewhere in the middle, which I identify with quite a bit at times. All of these women are admirable, intelligent, thoughtful, and insightful . . . and their viewpoints diverge widely.

Now and then, though, I find a tiny patch of common ground in the unlikeliest of places.

Take, for instance, MyFoodDiary.com. It was there that I came across an article about dieting (or healthy lifestyle, or whatever) self-sabotage that mentions Geneen Roth, a well-known writer of books about recovery from compulsive overeating. And this article in many ways provided another side of the FoBT that Kate, a staunch Fat Acceptance supporter, wrote about. Excerpt from the article on MyFoodDiary:

When you’re overweight, it’s easy to make excuses for why a given situation didn’t go well. “If I wasn’t overweight, then he would like me.” Or “I can take that chance on a new career once I lose weight.” It’s a comfortable fantasy without risk.

However, when you actually reach your goal weight, a primary self-protection mechanism is gone. The excuse that weight once offered is no longer valid. It can be a scary and unnerving situation.

This approaches the FoBT from the perspective of those individuals who have managed, one way or another, to come tantalizingly close to their goal weight, only to find themselves rubber-banding back in the other direction. I know that one reason I chucked a successful (40+ pounds) weight loss attempt a few years ago was because I WAS HUNGRY. I hadn’t had chocolate in 4 months. I ate 3 meals per day (no snacks) that often added up to a scant 1000 calories. I don’t know that my regain had much to do with emotions, although I do struggle with them; I think my body was just crying out for more fuel. Still, I can see how emotions and psychological issues could have a major impact on a person approaching goal weight. Maybe especially for those who have been considered overweight their entire lives.

The article offers the following advice:

To work through this, start by assessing what role that fat plays in your life. What positive aspects does it offer you? How does it protect you? Can you find alternative ways to protect yourself without hiding? What does being thin mean to you? What internal qualities do you have? In your mind, can you maintain these qualities and still be thin? If not, why? Does being thin threaten you in some way? Why?

Although MyFoodDiary.com is obviously a weight-loss-support website, some of the questions this advice column posed were startlingly reminiscent of the provocative issues Kate raised. It’s strange how worlds collide. Fat or thin or somewhere in between, we should probably all take a look at whether or not we fall prey to magical thinking in an effort to avoid the difficulties of the present.

the bus

Hilary — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 13:49:05 +0000

As promised, I am posting my magnificently rendered original Microsoft Paint drawings of Why I Hate the Bus.

I’m actually a huge fan of public transportation—I get so frustrated with my temperamental car, I hate driving in rush hour, and I loathe parallel parking. But everyone has a few pet peeves and when it comes to taking the city bus, these are my biggest two:

1. Students with backpacks approximately the size of the Himalayas who blithely knock innocent bystanders over as they make their way down the length of the bus. (That’s supposed to be me lying in the aisle there, by the way.)

2. Guys who splay their legs open and take up two seats when they sit down, as if to make the point that their dick is so goddamn huge! That it needs a whole seat to itself! God damn! I hate those guys. (That’s me frowning in disapproval.)

social anxiety

Hilary — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 07:32:51 +0000

Social anxiety: the experience of fear, apprehension or worry regarding social situations and being evaluated by others.

I haven’t seen a single one of my close friends in four months. If it weren’t for work and MC, I’d probably go for days without uttering a single syllable. The funny thing is that although I’m an introvert, people don’t think of me as shy at the office; I can “pass.” But I’ve basically completely isolated myself in every other way.

That’s messed up. I bet most people can’t even imagine living like that. I mean, even prisoners must socialize with their fellow inmates.

And although it’s true that I’ve always had a very small number of close friends rather than a large group of casual friends, this is pretty sad. A couple of my closest friends don’t live here, which sucks; but that’s modern life. Still, there’s no getting around the fact that I have one or two people right here in town who I consider friends and yet haven’t met up with since the summer.

Why on earth not? Just get in the car and go over for a visit, get some coffee, see a movie with them, do something. Do I really fear “being evaluated by others” that much? And do these “others” actually include people who like me and know me well?

All I know is, I contemplate calling up a friend to make plans . . . and my stomach starts hurting, and the anxiety sucks my strength and I put the phone down and dive under the covers, feeling relieved but disappointed in myself, hurting somehow. And so tired.

I’ve been feeling pretty shitty the last few days. Scared I’m going to estrange MC because I keep having irrational abandonment-related freak-outs. Uncomfortable knowing how abnormal my lack of social interactions is. Eating so much sugar that I always feel tired and sub-par. Avoiding, avoiding, avoiding. Please don’t hate me for this. I feel so bad sometimes.

I want to write things in this blog that will help people. I hate being so self-absorbed and unable to reach out.

I’m an inmate thrown in the Hole for bad behavior and I can’t help anyone down here; not even myself.

It kills me, because deep inside I know there’s so much more to me than my manifestations of basket-caseness. I mean, in the right situation I’m fucking hilarious (note to self: post my Things I Hate About Riding the Bus drawings here for evidence); I know every obscure 80s song ever—especially the gloomy ones; I will understand your big words when you bust out with them; I will empathize and not be shocked when you tell me about your crackhead ex-boyfriend turning gay; I can sit with you and drink tea and not say a word. I’m far from perfect, but I’m very me, if you know what I mean.

And you know what’s not me? This monstrous, stifling cocoon I’ve woven around myself; this simultaneous feeling that if I don’t grasp people with white-knuckled hands they will abandon me; this constant self-doubt.

starve the imagination

Hilary — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 17:30:32 +0000

To overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles, Modesty Blaise says: “You starve the imagination and you feed the will.”

You block out all those infinite images of failure. They only rob you of your determination. You think only of the actions you can take to make it to that light at the end of the tunnel. You don’t even consider not making it, because what good can that do? This is claw-yourself-out-of-the-pit survival we’re talking about.

Vaguely he was beginning to understand how she was able to remain untouched by the hopelessness of their situation. To her, it was not hopeless. Her mind was totally directed to the positive concept of winning the game, to the exclusion of fear, anxiety or despair.
[from I, Lucifer]

I would argue that totally starving the imagination precludes the possibility of conceiving a way out in the first place; however, once you settle upon a well-thought-out plan, perhaps putting blinders on to possible negative outcomes is the way to go. At least it gets you out of the habit of staring into the headlights like a panicked deer paralyzed by fear.

the story of my body

Hilary — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 21:27:06 +0000

Rachel at The F-Word issued the following optional assignment to readers of her blog:

My challenge is for you to write your own story of your body. Where would you begin? Where would you end? Is yours a work-in-progress? Is your saga a tragedy or a comedy? Does it have a happy ending or an ambiguous legacy?

I’d like to make an online archive of these stories; if you’d like to be included, please email me your stories, or, if it’s brief (a couple paragraphs or less) post it in the comments below. Please also include your name or screen name, website if applicable, and a valid email address. I’ve posted my story below, after the jump.

Rachel’s story is incredibly well-written and honest, and I read it (dare I say?) hungrily, before jumping on the task and hastily typing up a three-page story of my own body to email her. It’s pretty damn personal, but I wanted to post it here (after the jump) for you guys, in case anyone is feeling alone, or like others don’t struggle with these issues.

the misery quotient

Hilary — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 20:49:00 +0000

[”New Brainland” by Unit Seven; full-size image here]

Do you think people with higher IQs tend to be unhappier than those with lower IQs?

I don’t know. I’m smart, and it feels really uncomfortable saying that. I would feel much safer enumerating my many imperfections. But amidst the detritus of my personhood, there is: intelligence. I’ve also struggled with acute bouts of misery for many years.

Sometimes it seems like most of the people I know with clinical mood disorders or addictions are (or, in their lifetime, were) quite unhappy.

That’s all purely anecdotal, of course, although there are a number of articles on the subject. Who knows.

Do intelligent people think themselves into depression? A blessing turned into a curse? Dr. H has also pointed out that when you are a precocious child (e.g., intent on memorizing Hamlet’s soliloquy at age ten) with a large vocabulary, adults tend to mistake that for emotional maturity and a preparedness to take on adult responsibilities that in reality you are just not ready for. The internal and external pressure to live up to those duties can be crushing.

Thinking about this makes me grateful for the great diversity of human beings. As a species, I daresay we’d be paralyzed if we possessed on the whole too much or too little intelligence, too much or too little melancholy.

Agatha Christie puts it more neatly (and much more amusingly) than I do in the Poirot mystery Dead Man’s Folly:

Alex Legge remained serious. “I should like to see every feeble-minded person put out—right out! Don’t let them breed. If, for one generation, only the intelligent were allowed to breed, think what the result would be!”

“A very large increase of patients in the psychiatric wards, perhaps,” said Poirot drily. “One needs roots as well as flowers on a plant, Mr. Legge. However large and beautiful the flowers, if the earthy roots are destroyed there will be no more flowers.”