I dyed my hair red brown today

I did a Google blog search for "eating disorder," just to see what popped up.

There were, of course, plenty of "personal journey" blogs that came up, but I wasn't really looking for that category. I wanted to see what kind of facts and figures someone searching for eating disorder facts might find in the blogosphere, as defined by Google. So, among the blogs not being written from a patient's (or former patient's) perspective, what helpful info did I find?

... A lot of misinformation, e.g. "People with anorexia have distorted body images that cause them to restrict calorie intake." That's a bit like saying the egg had the chicken, but whatever.

The Royal We also stumbled across a blog written by someone claiming to be a clinical psychologist whose raison d'écrire is the belief that all women have some form of an "eating disorder." Well, We hate to prove her wrong, but We know fully TWO who do not. (One is Our nana; one is not Our grandma.)

We found some blogs stating that if one is fat, then one has an eating disorder. Um. No. The analogy "Fat Person : Eating Disorder as Male : Y Chromosome" does not work.

Our favorite was the blog We read suggesting that pregnant women who are concerned that their pregnancy may trigger an eating disorder (due to weight gain fears)... SHOULD CONCENTRATE ON EATING A LOT OF SALADS.

GAH. GAAAAAH!! GAH!!!!!!!!

Reading these "facts" on easily available media was like reading in the New York Times that the relationship between eating disorders and substance abuse is a New Discovery. In other words, it made me feel all stabby.

I'm not trying to pick on the writers of these blogs, per se... I mean, at least they're trying to get awareness of the issue drummed up, right? Except, NO, no, NOT right. Eating disorder awareness in the above forms is like... it's like my husband trying to pick out who's the stronger singer: Fiona Apple? or Miley Cyrus? ... and guessing WRONG, so wrong. A for effort, my tone-deaf love, but ur doin it rong.

So. What to do, what to do? Well, let's start with some fact correction on a couple of the points above:

1. Many low-weight eating disorder patients did not start out with distorted perceptions of their bodies; in many patients, the distortion progresses with the illness. Additionally, anorexics as well as bulimics can suffer from body dysmorphic disorder.
2. The pregnant woman afraid of developing an eating disorder should see a nutritionist or talk to her doctor, rather than getting info from a blog. Obsessively eating salads can trigger a diet cycle that is more likely to lead to anorexia or bulimia than generally being uneasy about weight gain. Telling a pregnant woman to mostly eat salads is like telling someone afraid of slipping into alcoholism to cut out 70% of their daily fluids. Or maybe that's just what it seems like to me.

Okay, now that that's that, how 'bout some WEBSITES WITH ACTUAL INFORMATION. Jeez.

http://www.womenshealth.gov/
http://www.renfrew.org/
http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/
http://www.anad.org/



Aaaaaahhhh. I feel much better now.

Not to sound like a Scientologist, but...*

This week and weekend I've been thinking that I'm terribly, terribly gross, and expanding at an exponential rate. Not to say that any of this is out of the ordinary on the whole, but it's been pretty consistent for over a week. As you may imagine, it's uncomfortable to have that suite of feelings performing in your mind's eye like an over-emoted iteration of Puccini... especially for that long.

The relevant facts: I stopped taking my SSRI a month ago or less. These last ten days leading up to and encompassing the visit of a best friend who hasn't seen me since I gained some weight have been Tough. Like, Let's Capitalize The Qualifiers That Refer To Them On My Blog tough. Welcome to the eating disordered/former anorexic/former (or present?) body dysmorphic mind. 2-to-5 pounds is the end of the world.

Anywho. I'm incredibly happy to see my friend, YET I can't get beyond the fact that Oh my God I look so fat and she and her boyfriend and her mom and dad and brother and sister-in-law are all looking at how fat I look now. Despite the fact that her mom (who last saw me when I was in treatment and, oh, a BMI of 16.5%) said today, "You look great!"

"You're so big!" is what my mind heard. I know, I know.

It sucks. Unequivocally. I wish I had a big handful of my beloved Lexapro (actually, I do, on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet) to shove in my mouth and then feel all, "aaahhhhh," like, "I forgot what I was worried about. Um... what?"

Except, I'm not ignoring what I'm worried about and preoccupied with right now. I'm acutely aware of it, and in some way thankful for that awareness. Since I went off my meds, this is my first string of significant social interaction with a friend who's known me a long time and who is incredibly important to me. (Yeah, I don't get out that much.) I'm living through the most grueling obsession with my hip/arm/thigh/stomach/lower back/shoulder blade/chin fat since probably November. November was the last time the number on my shitty drugstore scale went up. So I may be seeing more bulges in my mirror and feeling a lot - A LOT - more mental anguish about objectively ridiculous things, but I KNOW why those feelings are surfacing now, during my friend's visit. And if my clothes are feeling tighter, the scale number is also staying the same. And while I would never have thought a number might be helpful, it is right now.

I don't know if I would have appreciated all this while taking my meds. The only upside: My "symptoms" might have been less frequent. (I hate that word - "symptoms." I learned it from my first-ever eating disorder group, and it has stuck, and I think it's ridiculous. But clearly I still use it, which is proof to me that e.d. centers are, in their own way, retrograde.) So I'm not on meds, and I may not feel as emotionally even, and it's tougher right now not to punish my body for being in league with my mind, but doesn't it count that I'm paying attention? I don't pay attention on my meds. And that's got to count, right? I hope. I started this blog as an e.d. outlet, so it's about time that I write about it point-blank again.

I have no intelligent closing to this post. I was typing something about the importance of self-awareness and how that affects one's empathy and actions toward others, but I am tired, and absolutely giving up on typing THAT one without sounding any more like a melodramatic weirdo than I already do. OMG depressing post. Awesome. Okay, going to bed now, and trying not to look at my stomach in the mirror on the way there. ... But if I do, accepting that I maybe looked with an evil eye, and hoping that maybe next time I can look without a second thought.

Here's everyone: "... Wut?"

Night night.

* Everything written here is a personal opinion. Please don't use my words in a "Pros and Cons" list of whether or not to stop or start psychiatric meds. For the love of God, ask a doctor, if for no other reason than going off meds without one is A LOT HARDER than quitting with one. (For me, at least, speaking as a spaz who psychosomatizes** everything.)

** Not a real word.

The Blah-Blah Politic

(Like "The Body Politic?" Get it? My God, I'm so clever.)

It would appear that I have nooooo idea for whom I'll cast my ballot in November. I had thrown my hat in for Hillary, but, well, such is life. Of course, she's not officially out, but let's face it... it's looking grim.

Unlike so many people of my generation, I am NOT crazy about Obama, but like so many registered-Democrat swing voters, I am somewhat... queasy about McCain. In fact, I can barely differentiate between my trepidation and curiosity about both of them. So, like a good little citizen, I'm doing my darnedest to learn more about Obama and McCain. Without going into what I think of their actual stances (mostly), here's what I've gleaned about these two upstanding senators so far:

John McCain
Notes from JohnMcCain.com:
"A Pro-Growth, Pro-Jobs Strategy To Get Our Economy Back On Track." Interesting. I wasn't aware that there were actually Anti-Growth, Anti-Job economic strategies out there. This is probably why I barely passed AP Macroeconomics.

"John McCain believes that we must not fail in Iraq." Whereas Obama, presumably, believes that failure would be a great excuse to be an executive producer for a film that would hopefully do much at better at the box office than Rendition.

On hopefully overturning Roe v. Wade: "Once the question is returned to the states, the fight for life will be one of courage and compassion." Gah. Gaaaaaah. Even if I were a mega pro-lifer (I think you can guess on which side of this issue I sit), I'd still feel compelled to print out this entire blog, and shove it in his face, page by page. Courage? Compassion? Are they lacking there? Methinks not.

On "protecting" marriage: "The family represents the foundation of Western Civilization and civil society." Actually, the foundation of Western Civilization mostly came from slavery, revolution and disease, and the victors' and survivors' prerogative to re-write life as everyone knew(knows) it. But that wouldn't be as effective of a soundbite, I don't want to nitpick.

"John McCain thinks it is especially important to increase the size of the Army and Marine Corps to defend against the threats we face today." Is this code for "draft?" Because my husband would go without pause. So before he went, I'd be forced to conk him over the head with something heavy and blunt, and when he woke up, we'd be in Tahiti or someplace, and then he'd be pissed, and I'd be a felon, but whatever. Don't make me do that to our family, John McCain. I thought you wanted to protect families?

The Straight Talk Express: Apparently, this is some sort of new Amtrak line on which McCain gets right to the point and just says it like it is. Apparently, he isn't on it during most interviews, since he mostly hems, haws and screws up simple, vague lines provided to him pre-interview by his speechwriters. I haven't heard this guy give an actual answer yet. See last night's episode of The Daily Show for proof.


Barack Obama
Notes from BarackObama.com:
"I'm asking you to believe. Not just in my ability to bring about real change in Washington... I'm asking you to believe in yours." That's sweet. But I don't believe in mine. I don't think I ever will, as long as there is an electoral college. Sorry.

"The Problem: Tax Cuts for Wealthy Instead of Middle Class." Here's the deal: My household is smack in the income bracket that gets clobbered by taxes NOW and LATER, if Obama (or Clinton, for that matter) has his way. STOP TAKING A LARGER PERCENTAGE OF MY MONEY THAN OTHER PEOPLE'S. The idea to tax the "wealthy" at a higher percentage sounds nice, but just because I make over a certain amount doesn't mean it's easy. I don't make $1 million - not even close - and I get no tax relief now or later. So this is not going to win me over.

"The "Making Work Pay" tax credit will completely eliminate income taxes for 10 million Americans." As a small business owner I do. not. like. this. one. bit. This sounds Scary. This sounds like code for "Small business taxes and self-employment taxes will skyrocket."

“When I am this party's nominee, my opponent will not be able to say... that I wavered on something as fundamental as whether or not it is ok for America to torture — because it is never ok…" Because John McCain thinks torture is just peachy. He'd raise a hand to vote "yes" to torture, but he can't lift his arms that high anymore. I wonder why? Also, it's "OK," or "okay," not "ok."

The Blueprint for Change: I've got your number, Obama. You're the slickest salesman since... well, I don't know since whom, but you're slick like... like a slicker. Or an oil slick. Or black ice OMG NEW NICKNAME! (I want credit.) During your 60 Minutes interview, you veritably oozed smoothness. Your blueprint sounds very... pretty. Anyway, here's the problem with slick salespeople: They're usually so slick because they're experienced at overcompensating for a crappy product. As someone who deals with salespeople all day, let's just say that I have a healthy scepticism. As far as being attacked for not having enough experience, I too have a gut worry about that. Then again, George Bush had plenty of gubernatorial experience, and look where it got him.*

*The husband is fond of saying he'd rather have Bush/Cheney for another four years, because he thinks Bush is generally a good president. I am fond of miming the tearing out of my own eyes when he says such things.

Possibly THE most offensive article I have EVER read

Bea, beach bodies and the thorny problem of the Mummy gene ...
by Stupid McBitchface Amanda Platell
at the Daily Mail

See the link to the article above? Go read it, then come back here. I'll wait.

***waits***

Did you read it? Okay, good. Now we can continue. I'll start with the obvious:

"... a young woman can run, she can hide, but there's no escaping The Curse Of The Mummy Gene."

Gee, Amanda Platell, I had no idea a) who you were, or b) that you were a geneticist. Please, continue!

"Puberty can be a cruel thing, but there is a time when a young woman must take responsibility for her own thighs and accept that whatever genes you inherit, you can - and probably should - make changes to your lifestyle and diet in an effort to do something about it.

I suspect that for all her natural beauty, when Beatrice sees these holiday snaps, she may think that moment is fast approaching."

Really?? Wow! It's a good thing she had you and scum sucking pseudo-journalists like you to point this out for her! Otherwise she might never have noticed! She might have looked at her vacation pictures and thought, "Ouch, that was the day I got sunburned," or, "Oh, I hope I still have the email of that cool painter I met that day; I'd love to buy some of her stuff to decorate my flat." Amanda, I'm so glad you can really prioritize. I'm also glad that millions of young Brit girls will read this article and be reminded that they should probably do something about the horror of their developing curves. I mean, God forbid that they one day wake up and look like a Botticelli or the Venus de Milo. That would be awful.

But I shan't forget your strongest point in the whole piece! Rather than neglect the Windsor men, you pointed out that:

"Of course, the Princess has always lived with the double-edged sword of the Windsor genes. Double-edged in the sense that they bring undreamed of privilege and wealth - but also troublesome and rather unfortunate physical characteristics. Charles was quite dashing until he hit 25 - but then he started developing that pear-shape that's so unattractive in men."

Now, this was really my favorite part of the entire piece, Amanda dear: You completely cut off the mention of Charles and Andrew and the other male Windsors who are at less than their physical peak without submitting them to the petty and superficial criticism to which you subject Fergie and her daughter Beatrice. You don't mention that men can exercise just as well as women, or suggest that men are 100% in control of their own DNA, as you suggest women are (and you should know - you're the journalist genetics expert). You just gloss over that and get to what a human being actually can't control:

"Sadly, the bald gene has also passed on to poor William. If his hairline continues to recede at its current rate, he'll be as bald as a bandicoot by time he's 30.

But there's nothing you can do about that. Thighs you can do something about - as Beatrice may need to find out for herself."

I also find it really sweet that you offer such keen observations as:

"If and when she sets about changing her body shape, Bea will discover there is no substitute for sensible eating and tough exercise. Something that Fergie knows better than most.

Beatrice does not have to carry the sins of the mother on her thighs."

Because there's nothing classier than pointing out that one female who's beyond out of control with her food and body must produce another female who's out of control with same, and that a less-than-ideal physique is actually a moral issue. I looked it up and it's actually a Newtonian Law. You never heard of that one, right?! I know! It came right after the apple plunked him on the head. He brought a bunch of apples home, his wife baked two apple pies, and they each ate one. Everyone called her a fat heifer, and he got off scott free.

Forgetting Isaac Newton for a moment, I think you and your editor were really ingenious in omitting any mention of the extra mother/daughter bikini pictures accompanying your article. I mean, no one really needs to be reminded that supermodel Jerry Hall and her daughter Lizzie and Princess Caroline and daughter Princes Charlotte aren't just thin from "sensible eating and tough exercise;" they're also thin from... let's face it: The Mummy Gene. I bet those mothers and daughters are roughly the same height, too, with comparable shoes sizes, like my mom and I are. And all my friends and their moms are... But pointing that out would ruin the entire thesis of your Cambridge-worthy piece, so I'm really glad you left out that little tidbit. I mean, some things you just can't change, right? Without steel bolts in your shins, or slicing off a heel and a toe here and there, that is.

Then again, if you'd felt like including a mention of the acceptably shaped mothers and daughters, it would have been as simple as a paragraph about liposuction and gastric banding! Not that I'm suggesting any of the svelter royal women have had these procedures; I'm suggesting that those surgeries would be great options for Princess Bea.

Yeah. And Wills can use Procede by Giuseppe Franco. But you probably don't need to mention that.

How to Give Yourself an At-Home Brazilian Wax*

*This gets a little graphic, depending on your boundaries (i.e., if you have a problem reading the correct names of girly bits). You have been warned.

PART THE FIRST: WHY
1. Look at the stock market and all the Op-Ed articles talking about unemployment rates, plummeting retail numbers, and all the foreign capital buying America.
2. Realize that, maybe, you should save the $80-plus-tip and give yourself the Brazilian that you so desperately need. (Your Vagina: "Hello? Is anybody there? I can't see. Helloooo? Hm. It's dark in here.")

PART DEUX: WHAT
1. Buy some Sally Hansen Extra Strength Brazilian Bikini Waxing and Shaping Kit (with No Mistakes Mirror) ($10.99)
2. Grab your spiffy Tweezerman tweezers (already purchased: $20)

PART THREE: HOW
1. Read directions. Remember especially to a) always put the wax on in the direction of hair growth - remember that in certain areas hair grows more than one way, b) not work in sections of more than 2 inches at a time, and c) work from the outside in.
2. Start at the outside, toward the back, with an appropriately-sized two inch region. Apply wax. Allow to cool to just the right consistency, then remove, quickly, against the hair growth.
3. Congratulate self on what a quick, clean job you did. Note that you don't know what you were doing wrong last time you tried this with a more expensive product, because that time you didn't even make it beyond the basic bikini line.
4. Continue with a second small region, then a third. Tweeze the stragglers as you progress. Realize you are possibly the best self-waxer ever, and should probably write on contract for Marie Claire and Glamour, because you obviously have a lot to offer.

PART FOUR: HUBRIS. IT GETS YOU EVERY TIME.
1. About half way through your right side, realize you are getting to a tricky part.
2. Choose this juncture to slather on too much wax, so that you accidentally put it on against the hair growth, over a large area, where the hair grows every which way.
3. Try to remove the wax strip. Try again. Try again. Start to cry a little, thinking about living the rest of your life as That Chick Who Got Sally Hansen Bikini Wax Permanently Glued to Her Vajayjay. Realize that you could probably get on Oprah or something, to warn other of the hazards of self-waxing.
4. Get your thumb nail caught on the top of the still-not-cooled wax while trying to pry if off for a fifth time.
5. Spend the next five minutes tugging up the wax in sixteenth-of-a-centimeter bits of progress. Genuinely ponder how likely it is that you might seriously maim yourself.
6. Finally get the godforsaken gob of wax OFF. Notice that, despite what you thought, it is apparently possible to give yourself a labial hematoma.

PART FIVE: HALFWAY THERE.
1. Realize that the wax has congealed to something resembling Nutella. Evil Nutella.
2. Straighten up from your weird hunched-yet-standing position to reheat the wax. Realize that your neck and back are now permanently stuck in a shape that resembles Quasimodo.
3. Return from the microwave and glance in your No Mistakes Mirror.
4. Realize that you did your genetically less hairy side first.
5. Wonder if you could rock an '80's-style half-short-half-long hairstyle... down there.
6. Realize you just... can't. Not matter how much you'd like to. Cry.

PART SIX: DELIRIUM
1. When your spouse inquires, tell him that you are, despite what it sounds like, not committing hara-kiri.
2. Ask your spouse whether there is possibly some vodka or other hard liquor in the house.
3. Unleash at string of colorful curses when he tells you, "No."
4. As you progress on your second, more daunting side, convince yourself that every little bump or blemish you see is probably vulvar cancer, and you are probably dying. Then realize your tumor is actually a spec of wax, or a spot of skin irritated by all the tugging and paiiiiiiiin.
5. Admit to yourself that no matter how flowery the idea of natural childbirth is (when the time eventually comes), you are not cut out for it.
6. Reheat the damn wax again, OMFG.
7. Daydream about becoming a professional waxer, but only taking appointments from women whom you know... and hate.
8. Resolve to tip your usual waxer, Ninetta, 50% next time you go. (Instead of 20. Not that you ever tip less than 20%. Because only assholes do that. In New York, at least.)

PART SEVEN: SWEET, SWEET RELEASE
1. Take off the last strip of hair. Stand there in the kind of unbelievable relief probably only felt previously by, say, POWs upon their release from captivity. Or by other women who have been boneheaded enough to attempt this self-Brazilian thing.
2. Feel a surge of pride at the fact that you actually. gave. yourself. a full. Brazilian. wax.
3. Realize that you have probably just ruined your twenty dollar ($20) Tweezerman tweezers, because the wax, she is not coming off.
4. Leave the bathroom and beeline for the kitchen. Glance at the stove clock and realize that you were at it for an hour and a half OMG.
5. Pour yourself a large glass of wine. Emphasis: Large.
6. As you walk, realize that your entire genital area is... well... numb. Pray to God that this is not permanent.
7. Invent a time machine. Go back in time to yesterday. Make an appointment with Ninetta. Pay her the $80 + 50% tip (because now you know how much she truly, truly deserves it). Avoid the whole At Home Self Brazilian charade.


Post Script (October 2012):
You know what I've JUST FOUND OUT?  After ALMOST FIVE YEARS of doing this?  (Yeah, I never bit the fiduciary bullet and went pro again.)  If you let the wax cool ~just enough~ but ~not too much~, the pain factor reduces by at least half.   With the Sally Hansen wax, I'd ballpark this point at "when the wax is still warm and malleable under your fingertips, but no longer makes an effort to attach itself to your fingernails."  Sorry, that's probably not very helpful.

Also, the post-wax oil?  Use it on your fingers and nails during waxing to keep the wax from sticking to them.


Post Post Script (Updated October 2012):
I hope you found this post educational, or at the very least, entertaining; it was certainly fun to write, if not so fun to research.  It is, however, a departure from my normal focuses on this blog.  Check out the Who, Why, What, and Where pages above to read more about what the blog is usually about.  I hope you stick around!