I've got the eating disorder commentary, and I've got the reproductive rights commentary. That seems to be about it. Oh, and language or arts commentary. So, three. Guess which one is on the plate (hint hint) for this post?
I've been spending more time than is strictly necessary reading and commenting on Broadsheet, Feministing, The Curvature, and Feministe. And I find that I [almost] always. go. back. to. my eating disorder. [say in circular voice. that's hard to describe. nvrmnd.]
This community post at Feministing rocks my world. I've never been at a weight one would call "fat," but jeeeeez did I get all sorts of "HELL YEAH!" reading this. I think it was the section on ASSUMPTIONS. People assume all kinds of damn things about you based on your body (no matter what it looks like), and we all know what happens when you assume. (Everybody together: "You make an ass out of you and me." Good job, class.) In the past 7 years since my eating disorder really kicked into high gear, I've gotten maybe two judgmental (negative) assumptions about my internal health based on my outward appearance - at least those assumptions that were shared with me, not including from parents or health professionals. That's NOT. FAIR. It's incredibly not fair to anyone who's not an "acceptable" weight or shape, and it's maybe a little unfair to me (and others like me). Let's just generalize and say it's unfair to everyone to assume that they're healthy or not based on outward appearance.
With that abbreviated conclusion, let me share with you one of my favorite, possibly relevant vignettes. It's very short. It took place about a month before I was made to go into intensive treatment for anorexic bulimia.
Scene: Apartment part, West 47th Street. The kitchen. CN's sitting there with two best friends, L and M. One of L's friends, E, comes in away from the living room crowd.
L (to CN): So how are you doing?
CN: Eh, I'm okay. I mean, I'm trying to not lose anymore for a month. It's not really working though.
M: Yeah, you look mad skinny.
E (just tuning in): Yeah, you look great! I remember seeing you last year in school. You've lost some weight!
CN (deadpan): I have anorexia. My parents are making me go into a semi-residential treatment program.
E: Oh. ... That sucks.
*FREAKING SCENE*
So. Yeah. She assumed that I was healthy? (At at 16.5 BMI. Are you kidding me?) And then I, in an uncharacteristic display of I-don't-care-if-this-embarrasses-youness, told her what was up. Because she assumed that I was, I don't know, on a regular diet or something. Was I a bitch for blatantly embarrassing her in front of people and clearly making her uncomfortable? Maybe. Should people make unsolicited comments on other people's bodies, just because they feel they're allowed to comment on weight? NO. NO, NO, NO AND NO.
End. Scene.
8/06/2008
8/05/2008
News relating to the English language
In today's NY Times crossword, the answer to 48-Across is "Edward Gorey." The answer to 49-Across is "Lye." What a great freaking crossword. (That's because "J is for James who took lye by mistake," for you non-Gashlycrumb Tinies readers.)
And in news not related to the English lanuage. We got a Wii. According to her, I'm pretty out of shape, but as far as I'm concerned she's not in a position to say anything about that. Look how skinny she is. She's clearly got an eating disorder. Get some help, Wii. And get me a donut.
In more English-related news, I just typed "Rook" and "creary" the first time I typed the above lines. This may have something to do with my having "I'm So Ronrey" stuck in my head. No complaints here.
And in news not related to the English lanuage. We got a Wii. According to her, I'm pretty out of shape, but as far as I'm concerned she's not in a position to say anything about that. Look how skinny she is. She's clearly got an eating disorder. Get some help, Wii. And get me a donut.
In more English-related news, I just typed "Rook" and "creary" the first time I typed the above lines. This may have something to do with my having "I'm So Ronrey" stuck in my head. No complaints here.
find in:
eating disorder,
i like english
8/01/2008
In the effort to remember that it used to be okay to have a 27.5-inch waist.
I love going to the Met. (That would be the Metropolitain Metropolitan Museum of Art, not the Metropolitain Metropolitan Opera. Applesauce!* but I hate opera, unless I'm listening to it on my iPod and can stop and start it at will. Actually, I take that back. I legitimately enjoyed Carmen and La Boheme. And Don Giovanni. But I hated The Magic Flute. So, I guess you could say that I've enjoyed 75% of the opera I've ever seen in person. But I'm pretty sure that, horsefeathers!* I hate opera! Anyway, the point being that we're talking about "the Met" the big museum in New York, not the big opera house in New York. Hem hem.)
Last weekend, I was there for about two hours just wandering around 19th Century Painting and getting lost and losing my breath over Van Gogh and Degas. And Monet. And Renoir. After the Impressionists, I headed to the new Greek and Roman galleries, where I was tickled to see patrons being scolded for talking on cell phones, but not for palming the ancient works of art. I also did a quick dip into the Medieval wing to see some of the "treasures" on loan from the Victoria and Albert Museum. All in all, my tour left me feeling all sorts of copacetic.
Now, this is about the least, LEAST original point to make about art (particularly non-Modern art), but isn't it refreshing to see real bodies reflected in the marble and oil and wood and watercolors? Take this little filly, for example:
Not quite the same thing as, say, Angelina Jolie since she went from her Hackers-era body to her Wanted frame. Yikes.
My simple and for-once-brief point being that I think I'll spend less time at the movies, and more time at the Met. But not the opera Met. The museum Met. Because opera is boring. And also on the other side of town. Which would necessitate paying for a cab. No-ho-ho-ho way. Hahaha, twelve dollars. Riiiiight. (Oh, and the price of an opera ticket, which, riiiiiiiiiiiiiii, etc., ght.)
[* Trying to curse less now that my nephew, whom I only rarely get to see, even though he lives 6 blocks away, is turning 1, and will theoretically start to remember words like "fuck."]
Last weekend, I was there for about two hours just wandering around 19th Century Painting and getting lost and losing my breath over Van Gogh and Degas. And Monet. And Renoir. After the Impressionists, I headed to the new Greek and Roman galleries, where I was tickled to see patrons being scolded for talking on cell phones, but not for palming the ancient works of art. I also did a quick dip into the Medieval wing to see some of the "treasures" on loan from the Victoria and Albert Museum. All in all, my tour left me feeling all sorts of copacetic.
Now, this is about the least, LEAST original point to make about art (particularly non-Modern art), but isn't it refreshing to see real bodies reflected in the marble and oil and wood and watercolors? Take this little filly, for example:
Not quite the same thing as, say, Angelina Jolie since she went from her Hackers-era body to her Wanted frame. Yikes.
My simple and for-once-brief point being that I think I'll spend less time at the movies, and more time at the Met. But not the opera Met. The museum Met. Because opera is boring. And also on the other side of town. Which would necessitate paying for a cab. No-ho-ho-ho way. Hahaha, twelve dollars. Riiiiight. (Oh, and the price of an opera ticket, which, riiiiiiiiiiiiiii, etc., ght.)
[* Trying to curse less now that my nephew, whom I only rarely get to see, even though he lives 6 blocks away, is turning 1, and will theoretically start to remember words like "fuck."]
find in:
eating disorder,
recession
7/29/2008
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.
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.
find in:
eating disorder,
to opine or to STFU?
7/27/2008
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 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.
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