Saturday, January 15, 2005


Man, downer day. I was also kicking myself during pilates about my weight again, because we've got 2 walls of mirrors, and I'm exhausted, and have spent most of the week living out of a hotel.

So fucking frustrated, why's it take me a year to drop two sizes? Why do I have to wait another goddamn year to drop the last 2? Am I just some kind of lazy fuck? Why don't I just cut calories again? Why's it 10 degrees outside, I should go jogging... why can't I get this right? Why is this taking so long? I look awful...

I'm so used to the binge and purge cycle that I honestly don't know how to deal with just this: approaching eating and exercise not as a binge or purge time but an actual altering of my whole life, so I *don't* have to binge or purge again. No more binge sessions. No more crash diets. Just being better. And being that. Long term. No more bullshit. I'm tired. I'm too old to do this, and if I don't get a handle on it now, I never will.

And it's fucking hard to do when you *feel* like you're doing everything right, but society's benchmark to who you are, what you're worth, is how much fat you're carrying around on your body.

Jenn and I are about to head out for a birthday dinner, and I just put on my favorite brown jacket, the one with the third button that's too tight a fit to close down there around my hips -

- and I just closed it tonight without a hitch. No fabric stretching. Easy close.

Whooosh of relief --

Because the easy fit reminded me that I was right about my "set" weight point. I'm heading back there.

The women in my family have big hips, so when we're in good shape, our set point is about a 10/12. If I was smaller than that, I'd either be a serious athelete or dying of cancer. This means I've actually spent most of my life at a 14/16, which is perfectly reasonable for me and my frame. I'm currently a 16, same size I'm at in the profile picture (you'll note I included the full scectrum of life photos on my photopage).

This is not an unreasonable thing. It is, in fact, quite comfortable. It's just... it's just... I think I was just scared. I was scared that I'd treated myself so horribly that I couldn't get back into good shape, back into a 12 where I'm big enough to be intiminidating and fit enough to carry out the threat.

In the back of my head, forever, I think, is going to be this fear of backsliding. This fear of just giving it all up and reverting back to who I was once-upon-a-time ago, and though that's a good driving force to get me off my ass, there's a deep, gnawing fear that that awful person is who I really am, is my default. Do I see an increase in weight as being tied to being a weaker person? Well, yes, actually, I do, because the history of my (however short) life has seen the two biggest weight spikes at the two most turbulent, stressful times of my life. So I'm going to associate weight spikes and huffing and puffing up stairs with being a bad person.

I just don't want to be weak again. Physically, emotionally. It's like that deep fear just sits on your shoulder, leering. It's the same fear that sends me into mild panic attacks at the thought of forcing myself to go on dates (man, I've been on a dating kick, lately - it's midmonth, I'm ovulating. I'll be better next week):

You try and do that, and you'll be that weak person again. You know how you get. You'll fail. You'll backslide. That's just what you do. This is your life. This is how it has to work. Just like this. Add anything else to it, and the delicate balance you've got is going to alter, and it'll all come crashing down.

Is there ever a cure for this sort of thinking? I don't know. You just live it.

Some days are better than others.

Life is Hard.

After all, it eventually kills you.

Feeling a little off today. Went to my pilates class, but skipped boxing because Sifu Dino showed up, snarked off something that really irked me, and then hung around while the boxers were warming up.

And I just wasn't in the mood for him.

I have this bizarre reaction to Sifu Dino. I have no idea what's up with it. It's not an attraction thing - he doesn't do anything at all for me - but it's definately a physical reaction that sets me on edge. I hasten to add that this is a purely personal thing: he's a good guy, and lots of people - men and women - love working with him.

It's like every time I see him, I want to fight him. This is the stupidest thing ever, of course, cause the guy could rip both my arms off if I looked at him funny, and cripple me for blinking weird. And here my body goes, switching into combat mode when I see him.

I remember when I first started working for Blaine, and whenever he came up next to me, I expected him to hit me. Blaine's a big guy, about 6ft tall (I'm 5'9, but in heels, I can easily look him in the eye), and outweighs me by something like 50 or 60lbs. But he's also a big puppy dog, a sweet guy, who I actually haven't even ever heard raise his voice. I wasn't hit a lot as a kid, and though my ex threatened violence, and I got the same sort of hunched defensive reaction when Blaine would lean over me as I did when my ex screamed at me, my ex wasn't exactly an intimidating person - same height as me, and I outweighed him - so I'm not sure where this aversion for big, physically powerful men comes from (and, in fact, Sifu Dino's only like 5'10, but the way he holds himself, the way he's built, his attitude, is one that exudes some sort of danger trigger for me - not an attraction one).


Don't Say Writing Has No Meaning

From Moorish Girl:

And I'll always be jealous of how he [my father] once spent an airplane ride shooting the shit with Salman Rushdie (during his fatwa years). When he got off, a police squad was waiting to escort Rushdie off the plane. My baba came home that night and told me, "Randood, don't believe when the donkeys say writing has no meaning. A row of police men in riot gear...for a writer! No meaning, my ass."

Men of Science

Just got my latest copy of Scientific American.

Why is it that whenever they do a story on "early man" the covershot is always, always, always a man holding a spear?

Because showing a woman's breasts on the cover (however artistically rendered) is scary? Or just because the idea of a female form standing in for "all humankind" is really scary?

I would love to see a woman with a spear representing "all of mankind."

It would be no more or less totally representative than this stupid "artistic" rendering.

More Weighing In on Dowd

Oh, good. Feministing takes on Dowd. My favorite paraphrase from this one has to be "Feminism isn't a fucking dating service."

That one's going on my quote list.

Amanda's got some good reactions as well, and links to others, who aren't so good. She points out that we're still seeing articles and "studies" with a focus on male desire, on "what men what." We've gotta find other ways of talking about this (in fact, the guy she links to, and the guy he links to, both Assume this Truth: there's no talk of equals, but What I Want, What Makes Me Look Good. I don't see any talk of partnerships or mutual affection in their rants, just assumptions that they should be patted on the head for dating women who have subscriptions to The Economist).