Woof: Emotional Eating

Today, in a workshop, I shared a story about my dog and eating that I think says it all.

My dog, Jackie, is a little darling angel, except when she's not. Though I don't know her whole story, her body says that she had a rough life, most likely with a breeder, before she came to live with me. Like everyone who has been in a rough place, she has baggage to manage. For her, this mostly manifests positively-- she's is behind on love, so she asks/demands love from anyone with a free hand, foot, or snuggle spot on their body. Somehow, she accepts that I have to go to work most days, and is cool with that. BUT if I leave the house outside of that routine, she sometimes feels anxious and upset: who will cuddle her?! When she can't get the pets she seeks, she acts out by eating any nearby paper, and if shit gets real bad, she busts out of her room and digs in the trash.

Jackie, eating her bone, quite emotionally.

Today, when I left for my swim workout, Jackie gave me the eye: "I know you aren't going to work! You could be with me!" Indeed when I came back, she had partaken in both paper and garbage, in order to soothe herself. Because I'm crazy, I had a conversation with her about it:

"Jackie, bad!"

<blank stare>

"Let's talk about this. Mama spends all her money on a limited ingredient venison and sweet potato diet for you."

<blank stare>

"We've worked so hard to find the perfect diet for you! Why would you then turn around and eat GARBAGE?"

As my dog continued to stare at me, I had a thought. I was scolding her for eating MY P.Terry's garbage. I also invest a lot of money and time in eating for my health. While my lettuce wrapped burger with cheese isn't the worst thing I could do to myself, I didn't really eat it for the best reason. I chose to eat that more as a reaction.

As I've learned not to emotionally eat, or eat when I'm not hungry, I've picked up or magnified other self-soothing behaviors, some better than others. I wasn't particularly upset at that moment, but I was a little bored with my choice to stay home and organize my space on a Saturday night. This was in part, because I'm broke till payday. An interesting side effect of having tapped out of money early this month is that, I've never wanted to eat out more. I realized that, like a good American, I get off on consuming. Even just going and buying things I need, like razor blades or cat litter, is satisfying. Shopping often distracts me from my more inward pursuits...and in the absence of it...I wanted to eat--my old standby distraction. Just because I choose far less harmful foods in the past, doesn't mean I'm not still playing out a pattern.

In today's workshop, my nutritionist spoke about eating consciously-- eating when you need to and not for other reasons. One of her suggestions was to ask what you really need. Is it food? Or is it sleep or love or something else?

Slowly, I think I can get my dog to the place where she doesn't eat garbage emotionally. Woof, woof, baby girl-- you and me both!

Eating Outside the Boxes

Eating Outside the Boxes
As a long time fat girl, even when I wasn’t even vaguely fat, I’ve let diet advice guide my nutrition choices for most of my life. Following what I call The Science of the 90’s, like a lot of people, I ate low fat for a long time. Fat content guided all food choices. Sometimes calories, but mostly fat. Not sugar content, not amounts of crazy chemicals, not nutrient content, and certainly not taste. (Am I the only one with nightmares about non-fat cheese?)

In my household, cooking often meant Southern cuisine and a million potentially fatty choices. In between diets I ate my mom’s cooking, which can shame Paula Deen’s (tastes better, more butter, less racist), but I never learned her recipes because they weren’t low fat. And I couldn’t eat out, because I had seen the fat content of the Chili’s Old Timer burger and that was that. So…I ate a lot of frozen boxed food. I thought this was the best option, because everything was clearly labelled and portion controlled. Thanks to the guidance of an organization I’ll call…Fat Hawks, I believed that I couldn’t be trusted with choices beyond the box. I also had such a complicated relationship with food that I didn’t really want to invest time in it. So by the time I finished college and began the glamorously busy lifestyle of a teacher (jetsetting from one stack of papers to another and what not), I ate almost exclusively from boxes containing low fat frozen “food.” It was Unhealthy Choices, Fat Hawks, and Not-a-Cuisines for breakfast, lunch, snacks, dinner, and snacks.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, I was unhappy: mood swings, insulin resistance, low energy, and seemingly uncontrollable cravings. And I still struggled with my weight. Over the next decade, I learned a few things and made some changes. Thanks to Atkins (oh dieting) I discovered the power of protein, particularly eggs. By choosing less carby and more protein oriented choices, I was able to reduce many of the symptoms of insulin-resistance including my mood swings, but I still feared fat and I was addicted to convenience foods. Even as I started to prepare some of my foods, I still relied on packaged snacks and desserts to help me manage eating. And I was more confused than ever at the grocery store.

In 2010, my roommate started talking about her new awesome nutritionist, Carly. I started following some of her guidelines and experimenting with crazy items containing fat, like almond butter. I felt better. When Carly visited my running group (yes, I’m a big fat runner), her advice made more sense than any advice I had ever been given as an athlete, so I scraped together my teacher pennies and made an appointment.

While I had a lot of knowledge and had already made some positive changes, Carly helped me craft a set of choices all my own, not guided by diet advice, but by my body’s own responses to the fuel I put in it. I felt terrific. Cravings did not control me. I ate for health. I still struggled with the need for convenience and my own meager cooking skills; for an embarrassingly long time, I filled up on organic turkey slices, carrots, and hummus. Sometimes I still foraged for a fast-ish food lunch because I was unprepared.

On my 37th birthday, I recommitted myself to planning and eating the best meals for me…and right after that I started a job in a relative food desert…and right after that I broke my leg. That could have been the end of my healthy eating, and the start of ordering pizzas, but with the knowledge and confidence I obtained from Carly and my own studies, along with a lot of help from my friends, I began to cook my own fresh food in batches, a few times a week. I healed my leg weeks ahead of schedule, and became even more convinced of the power of good-for-you nutrition. Never mind an occasional morning taco problem, I’ve brought a powerful lunch to work almost every day for the past two years, and I feel better for it.

My journey is far from over. On the surface, I am not one of Carly’s success stories. After extended periods of excellent nutrition, with very little fat loss, we concluded that nutrition isn’t my problem. Not anymore anyway. With this knowledge, I’ve selected a natural hormone therapist, and we have identified a problem and hopefully, a solution. The medication is just a tiny portion of repairing my relationship with food though; the real change began when I learned how to eat outside the boxes.

Snort, Snort, Bitches

I just want to point out what a process it has been to get to the point where I can dress up as a pig, albeit no ordinary pig, and have men yell "Piggy, Piiiiigy, and Piiiiigggyyy" at me, and enjoy it. I've tossed around the idea of being Miss Piggy for Halloween before, but I always quickly ruled it out. Any true fat girl will know why this might give you pause. Given how I AM Miss Piggy, this was ridiculous and sad. To make my case about being Miss Piggy-- an over-the-top, confident to a fault, glamour loving, possibly delusional diva, I present this:

After rewatching this as an adult, I realize that Miss Piggy was one of my first profound influences. I remember experiencing some cognitive dissonance: I knew she was a sexy and fabulous, but I also already knew that larger women weren't sexy and fabulous. I get it now, and thank Miss Piggy for this model. Yes, I like to pretend that she is real. Anyhow, now that I've embraced the pig, I'm pretty sure I'll be Miss Piggy again and again. Snort snort!

Food Memories with Joan

I recently lost one of my best, and youngest, and sweetest friends to brain cancer. The time between her diagnosis and her passing was so quick, that I, like others, am left with a lot of thinking and reflecting, to accept what has happened, to even accept that it is a thing that happens in the world, but also, to define what Joan meant to me and will continue to mean to me.

Through the magic of bonding and networking, I'm discovering all of the different Joans that existed. So many people connected with her so deeply and treasured her in various ways: Joan Jolt, derby player; Nichole Mikko-Causby, the academic; Nikki, the girlhood pal and daughter; Nichole Sgarlato, the wife and daughter-in-law. In our fast friendship, she had already been several kinds of a friend to me, but one of the most important roles she played in my life, without a doubt, was eatin' buddy. For this reason, I cannot possibly carry on an eatin' blog, without memorializing her here first.

St. Louis 2011

From our very beginning, in Merry St. Louis, we bonded over food. At that time, we were both less conscious of what we ate, so we began with Billy Goat Chips, the barfood pizza at Lemmons, MEAT PIES at The Silver Ballroom, and continued on to daily specials at The Royale on Kingshighway, cookies from Whole Foods, and one of her faves for fish and chips: The Bleeding Deacon, which apparently closed not long after our time in STL (probably we ran them outta beer) but apparently has a cousin, The Crow's Nest, though it can't be as divey good as the Deacon. We ate at the Lemp Mansion (gross, but haunted?), at somewhere delicious in Soulard, and introduced our dogs at the Tower Grove Farmers Market. (Yes. We both came to a seminar with our dogs thus causing us to rent rooms, both in South City, cause that's how we did and why we loved each other quick.)

Often, it is so damn MUGGY in STL that it seems like the only thing to do is get a little drunk in an aboveground pool, aka hooz hole. The first time we did this instead of doing the homework for the very academic seminar that had brought us both to the city, we ended up laughing hysterically about how you feed company if you are SOUTHERN, and this is were we cemented our phrase ALL THE FOOD, which was pretty much the motto for the rest of our trip...and our friendship.

 At one point, our group took a side trip to Chicago to visit Hull House. I can tell you *some* stuff about Jane Addams, but I can tell you everything that we ate there. I'll just stick with her favorite, which was the hummus from The Parthenon in Greektown. You want to go to there. We quested for ALL THE FOOD in Chicago, but somehow couldn't manage it, so we had our pizza at Pi and our Chicago dogs at Pam's Chicago Style Dogs, both in St. Louis. The picture above is from Pam's where Joan was expressing her sorrow over the end of the Midwestern episode of our eating festival. Damn, I can't believe I remember almost everything we ate. Probably because we relived it a lot. It was not uncommon for us to send texts and whatnot that merely read "meat pie." One more: on the 4th of July, 2011, I made my famous meat cupcakes and she showed me how to mix chicken stock into the mashed potato icing for even more goodness. It was a down home Southern heart attack waiting to happen.

I'm supposed to present at a social studies conference in St. Louis in the fall...actually Joan and I were supposed to present on fashion and feminism, but I'm afraid I'll starve if I go. Though I spent 7 weeks in St. Louis before 2011, we definitely marked that place with our friendship, and I wish I could say I'd celebrate that in person there, but as is, I think I'll just feel the loss:(

Missoula 2012

In March of 2012, I decided to escape Texas for Montana and see my Joan Jolt for a bit-- I know that's backwards weather wise, but I craved some Joan and a trip. It was an interesting trip since she was teaching and working, but we fit in plenty of time for eating and eating. If you are going there, have a bison burger and sweet potato tater tots at Al and Vic's or its upscale neighbor, James Bar. She also took me to the Mullan Station, so I could marvel/hipsterjudge how a restaurant is also a bar that's also a casino that's also a laundromat that's also a convenience store. I don't recommend that for anything other than comedy.

Austin July 2012

When Joan Jolt got off the plane, I immediately drove her to the wonder that is Austin's flagship Whole Foods. By this time, we were mostly following paleo-like eating plans and I knew she'd be hungry, plus ZOMG the Whole Foods. I've gotten used to it, like it's a normal place to shop for groceries, but the downtown WF is really outta control for the amount of high-priced goodness. It was great to see this through someone else's eyes again to realize how truly remarkable it is, and how lucky I am to have it, never mind its one million logistical problems. Let me tell you what we ate: she had a rotisserie chicken meal and I had chopped beef on top of a bed of greens, and yes I remember even this mundane meal. Foodwise, the rest of the trip continued like that. We had Tacodeli, followed by Torchy's (where she famously called the queso "cheese dip" :)) followed by Tacodeli. We made our own breakfast...sometimes, grilled while setting up my very own inflatable garage sale hooz hole, and had made our own ceviche at the beach. I showed her what a Whataburger was (#paleofail) and when I dropped her off at the airport, I cried. Right after I told her where to get tacos in the airport. (I prefer the Ray Benson/ Salt Lick taco cart, except they need to offer corn tortillas.)

September 2012

So how did I get her back so quick? I broke my damn leg and I'd break it a hundred more times, if I thought it would bring her back. Since life is fast and full on my watch, she knew how catastrophic this would be for me."How will you eat all the good food? Who will play with the dog? How will you shop?" What kind of friend quits her job and drives down from Montana to cook for you? The Joan kinda friend. I had surgery on 9/4 and Joan was here by 9/11.

We were still indulgent on occasion (see Tacodeli above) but this was where we both discovered first hand how powerful good nutrition is in healing. I had already made a commitment to a year of no fail healthy eating (no, I didn't make it through the hardest year of my life eating totally healthy) and I figured that the leg made this even more important. Joan agreed, and we embarked on a plan. Our plan involved intense and rigid meal planning, since she would be cooking nightly for two people including the next day's lunch, and I would be paying for it all. Meal Planning FTW, especially since Foot Hongry was always happening at first. Fortunately, during the period where I was non-weight bearing, Joan cooked meals ALL THE DAYS. Except when we occasionally picked up food from Chipotle, Zen, Elevation Burger, or Fresa's. The net result was that when I returned to the doc for my 6 week post-surgery follow up, I was Ahead of the curve! The doctors said my bone was healed very strong and ahead of time, by at least several weeks, and my time remaining in the boot got cut from another 6 weeks down to a mere 4. Joan was with me during this appointment, and I know their words made a big impression on her too. There really was no other explanation other than taking good care of myself, foodwise and otherwise. Over the next 6 months we continued to discuss the ways that nutrition affects health, and the many dramas of Seymour related to my nutritional intake: i.e. if I eat bread, Seymour(the foot) don't wanna walk! 

I wasn't in the same city with Joan when she was diagnosed with the tumor, and phone contact was a little hard at times, but I know that one of the first things she did was turn to nutrition for answers, to the goodness of whole foods. For this reason, and because my mother taught me that food is what you do when tragedy strikes, the first and only thing I could think to do from afar, was send her a gift card for food. I wish I could have done more, and I wish that anything I could have done would have saved her.It breaks my heart to think of it now, but after a few weeks of radiation, she sent me a message saying "had an 'ahead of the curve Seymour type meeting with my doctors!" She believed in nutrition. It didn't go the way we hoped, but she wasn't wrong though. Food heals.

Missoula 2013

I don't know what to say about this one. I counted it up and I was only ever in the same city with Joan for like 100 days, including these four hard but precious days in Missoula that turned out to be her last days. Even then, it was still about food. Her husband made her smoothies, her mother-in-law brought her kale chips, I made sure she had a non-inflammtory milky milk type drink, her parents fed her, and we all talked about food. She asked for Tacodeli,  and I told her I'd get the recipe for the Otto to Montana. I brought her a Thunderbird bar, which caused her to tell me about her Raw Revolution Spirulina bars, and when her dad asked her if she wanted a bite of one, she said, "only if Aimee shares it with me," which I did. She could barely talk, but somehow we all talked about food, and everyone in the room agreed that Joan had influenced their thinking about food. She was my eatin' buddy, and I spent more time eating with her than anyone outside of my family, but she was also everyone's eatin buddy. Someday, all the memories and even this one, will just make me happy, but for now, I write this and I cry in the chocolate aisle.

I try to memorialize Joan at least twice a week by going to Tacodeli for her. If you'd like to participate, here's a list of some other things that I know she'd want you to eat in her honor. If you are a friend of Joan, feel free to add your own in the comments.

Avocados

Mango
Any fresh ingredients smoothie

Coconut Creamer
Ice cream ala Joan-- mashed frozen bananas with dark dark chocolate shavings

Thunderbird Bars

TAZA stone ground Mexican chocolate

Raw Revolution

Kale Kale Kale

Latin Quinoa Salad

Grandma's Hummus

Larabars
Kale Chips

Coffee Coffee Coffee
A lot

Paula Deen: My Two Cents

Whether I've said as much or not, this blog circles around Southern foodways a lot, by default. As the daughter of a southern lady, who can outcook and outbutter (fer real) Paula Deen, I can't really think about food or eating without embracing, rejecting, or somethinging the South and its food. My parents' return to the Deep South signaled a full license to return to southern foodiness to my mother. I've written privately about the considerable trials and tribulations of eating while visiting, but I don't really want to publish such publicly until I find a way to make it sound like less of an ungrateful indictment of my mom and all southern mothers, who are just tryin' to keep their babies fed, y'all.

Given that, I feel compelled to chime in on the whole Paula Deen racism mess. If you aren't familiar or you read this at a time when this has fallen out of our very shallow collective memories, here's the scoop.

Here's a little joke my Joan Jolt and I like to tell to each other often, for amusement, and as shorthand for southern eatins and hospitality-- which are the same thing. Picture: Some relatives are coming over. Your mom wonders aloud if she should make ham or chicken. The correct answer is... "yes." Biscuits or cornbread? "Yes." Pie or cake? "Yes." Really that's not even a joke. It just IS. If your table isn't full and your relations don't got the 'betes when they leave, you effed up. You will feel guilty and people will talk about it. And this isn't even for the good relatives. Just the shitty racist ones that you only like out of obligation.

Which brings me to my point. I think I'm in the camp of people who aren't surprised about Paula Deen's comments about race and racism, but not because I think that all people of the South are racist, or not even because I associate her down home style with backward racist attitudes. In my experience, I associate Deen's style, foodwise and otherwise, with the complicated blend of tradition and tragedy that is the South. When something is complicated, obviously it calls for analysis and reflection to negotiate, and there are plenty of people doing that in the South. However, whether you are talking about race or food, there is also plenty of encouragement to NOT think, to latch onto something perceived of as a charm of the past without thinking the implications of preserving that thing.

Here's an example. My dad is right on the cusp of having diabetes. His blood sugar can stay fairly low if he chooses the right things to eat. You know, like choosing steak at a restaurant over a pasta dish. Except recently he ate a steak and his blood sugar was high after. Why? Because the steak was dipped in molasses. Why? Because its the South. Multiply that traditionally inspired meal times a million, add in fast food, subtract some salads, and you've got the diabetes epidemic of the American South. It's perfectly obvious that people simply can't continue to have the sugary buttery overserving ways of the past mixed in the industrial agrobusiness foodcrap of the present and expect to stay healthy, but it a) tastes good and  b) is "just the way it is." It's not that people feel they are choosing the unhealthy tea over the healthy tea-- they are just drinking tea. Tea has sugar. Duh. (Seriously, I had a very hard time getting an unsweet tea at a Whole Foods in midtown Atlanta.) My point is that there's plenty of ways to just not think too hard about the consequences of food choices, which is how Paula Deen managed to sip sugar tea aka tea, all day for years and then be surprised by the diabetes.

Negotiating the ugly racial history of the South, can be similar. In my experience, there are progressive people and racist people in the South for sure, but the majority of the people just seem to turn away from the issue, to not think too deeply about it whenever possible. Society makes it possible. This, as you might suspect, is utterly ridiculous in a place clearly still recovering from a war about race (depending on who you ask, good God), still processing the travesties of Jim Crow, and clearly still marked by racial division and inequity in important things like...education. It requires effort to look away, to accept the simplest or most convenient versions of stories, but it happens because to look dead on requires confrontation-- and confrontation is impolite and messy-- not something that you do according to the southern messages of my mother. So it becomes easier to just pretend that a plantation is just a nice farm and that a flag is just a flag.

So this is how Paula Deen, and others like her, can really believe that a reference to black servitude is relatively innocent. Or choose to believe. She knows enough to know that her attitude is politically incorrect and of the past, because those ideas are on the surface-- but understanding exactly how hurtful it is to tap into that history with a sense of longing?-- Nope. Beyond her now public comments, I don't actually know what she is like. Perhaps she is a blatant bigot. Certainly, she is remarkably bad at talking about race. But I imagine that mostly she is just an unreflective person, minimally educated on the topic of race, raised in a racially unjust past, and living in a present space that only requires or promotes so much change. And she isn't alone in that. At all.

So no, I wasn't any more surprised by her comments than I was by her diabetes.

Now, in the style of one of my favorite slices of the internet, Tom and Lorenzo's Mad Style, I'm gonna put in some bullet point items that BELONG here, but just didn't fit in a paragraph.

• So...at Mother and Sons, Deen's Savannah restaurant, you get assigned a time to uh...gather. Then you are herded into your pen for your turn to feed at the trough. Seriously. When your feeding time is done, they put you back in the pasture. Also, my mom's food is better.
• The only time I that won my friend's Iron Chef contests, was when the theme was "this is why you're fat." I made meat cupcakes that incorporated all elements of homestyle goodness. One had a chicken leg up on top of the mashed potato icing! Thanks, South.
• My parents used to live at the base of the Kennesaw Mountain Civil War Battlefield, where the gift shop included many items and serious books on States Rights! but the only mention of black people... like existing... was a single Harriet Tubman coloring book. I'll never get over that. Stunning.
• When I visited the Mississippi Delta in 2008, I got to listen in on a panel discussion, concerning the Emmett Till murder, by the Committee on Race and Reconciliation in Sumner County.The recently formed committee on race and reconciliation. Discussing how to handle an event from 1955. It was clear that some people wanted to look at the history and its enduring legacy, but the mechanisms for doing so, were slim.
• I'm very confused about why people are upset about Paula Deen saying that she has racist relatives. Do they not have relatives? If you have relatives, some of them are racist. That's what relatives do, right? You can't control what your relatives do, and if you try, your mom will glare at you because you are the one causing the scene, which is also why everyone eats that biscuits that are served even if they have diabetes. Already.
• I don't hate it! I don't!

Like a '59 Cadillac

So, if you read my FB (and you must, at least somewhat, cuz how else would you get here?) you probably have the idea that I've been irreparably harmed by my heterosexual dating experiences. Broken-hearted, bitter, suitable only for a future as a spinster or maybe a stand-up comic whose shtick is reading emails and texts from her ex-boyfriends.

I wouldn't say that's totally untrue. Nope. However, there is one particular upside, an actual benefit, dammit, that I have gained from some of the men I've dated. This blog post will be somewhat of an expression of gratitude toward them, insofar as I am capable of that.*

The Miss Lady Foundation for Adoring Herself Indeed would like to thank Boring Ray, Stupid Melodramatic Jacob, Fat Matt, Cockpunch, Casey the Dumbass, Depressed Chef, Gas Station Joe/SpiteFuck, Emotionally Unavailable Jeffrey, and Stupid Scott for their contributions to my naked confidence. To be clear, there are a few more men than this, but not all of the men I've known biblically (cause my tits are like religion, thank you) have been open admirers of my physique, either admiring it only insofar as it was pleasing them, because they had fallen in love with my mind (which I appreciate), or in the manner of a few fools who may go to hell, not at all.

I absolutely do not think that women should base their self-concept on the opinions of men, nor do I think they should look to the male gaze for validation. Having said that however, I confess that I have. Since it's merely a part of the cocktail of my sources of self-worth, let's hope I'm not fucking myself up too much by doing so.

The men listed so politely above have, at one time or many, made sure that I knew I was beautiful naked. They wanted to see it more or up close or from a variety angles or whatever.  When Boring Ray first insisted on this, I had a hard time believing it. I knew I had some good parts, but the idea that I was wholly beautiful, and that the big voluptuous picture was not ruined by any of what I considered flaws was new. Since then I've had a bevvy of admirers, who, though they pretty much fucked up everything else, did worship my body without hesitation, and somewhat in isolation from the naked gratifications possibly taking place before, during, and/or after these compliments. I know that not all women would be surprised that men find them attractive when naked, but plus size women (well...all women really) receive plenty of bs telling us that our bodies are not eligible to be attractive. Clothing makers, advertisements, everywhere. I know that's not news, but I think the volume of negative messages just can't be overstated. Thus, I wasn't really sure until I heard it over and over.

My latest adventure was from a man who proclaimed me perfect. (Numerous times; in fact, even when he was dumping me via text by telling me to google the lyrics to this song about a woman who is perfect but the speaker still wants to be with everyone else....grrrr...)  He adored me physically so much that it was almost uncomfortable. How do I tell him not to nuzzle my FUPA so much?! Before he said all the stupid things though at the end, he did say this while drooling at my form: "You are shaped like a '59 Cadillac."

See, I'm willing to acknowledge that men are right sometimes.


With naked confidence,
Miss Lady





*To be fair to me, many of these men did stupid and/or shitty things that would complicate anyone being nice to them, not just a mean ol hag like Miss Lady.

Fat Friday

Finally, I feel fat enough to post something. Hooray?

So, I'm having a fat Friday. Do you know of this? It's exactly what it sounds like. It's Friday and I fucking feel fat. All the fucked up day long.

"Oh that's so sad!" say people who haven't had a fat Friday. Or "Oh you're not fat." Eff it all, it's Friday and I am fat.

It doesn't matter that I've got triathlon arms and legs at the moment, that make me love myself from the inside out. Admiring myself proudly in my new two piece cherry printed bombshell suit...doesn't change a thing. New paramour that thinks my body is the cat's meow? Nope.

Never mind that I had to win all that shit up above. Never mind that I had to wrestle my self love away from the media, my upbringing, etc. and never mind my commitment to loving myself. Being a plus size American middle class (is this specific to being white? or any of those things?) woman, means that you can still have a Fat Friday no matter what, pretty much instantly.

Umm...there may also be other confusing emotions mixed in here. Emotions = fat. Fat= emotions. Please see Betty Draper Francis for more.

Good news= after decades of me as a project, I could just as easily have a Sexy Saturday.

Cooking with Miss Lady

So, this post is going to be like this time I texted my friend from a bar to say that I had a successful interaction with a man. I described it and we were both excited, but then we realized that I was basically saying that at 30something I had finally learned to talk to boys. You got it; I finally learned to feed myself with mild success.

Previously, my rate of cooking efficacy--like you could cook, eat it, and possibly feed it to someone else, was like 50%. Chickens cooked by Miss Lady...hmmm....could be delicious (less likely), could be merely edible, or could be just...no: dry, raw, weird. There's no telling. Recently, my rate of total edibility went up, maybe to like 75%, oddly due to poverty. You see, when you spend 1 million dollars on veterinary care for your pet, you can't really afford to waste money effing up dishes, especially if you still mostly insist on using expensive items from Whole Foods. Anyhow, I'd like to share my recent successful recipes, especially for other cooking challenged people. Nothing here will be earthshatteringly gourmet, just accomplishable.

Italian Sausage and Stuff
Ingredients

• Italian Sausage (Or if you can, this artisan sausage from the farmer's market near my house on Sundays. Course, if you do that then you can't embarrass the meat counter guy and possibly yourself by saying "I neeed some hawwt Italian sausage, the big one, please." Not that I did that this weekend. Nope.)
• Basil or something else green
• Something brown, like bulgar, rice, or quinoa
• Tomatoes, fresh or in a can
• Maybe some spices or garlic powder.

Method
Find your big pastel skillet. Put the sausage in it and brown it. Sausage is greasy, so you don't need oil, which most people probably know through common sense, not trial and error. While you are doing that, it turns out to be efficient to cook your brown stuff. I do that by boiling to wrong amount of water, then pouring some out once that becomes apparent. I lost my measuring cup several years ago, and um...it hasn't come up that much till now. Don't worry--if this system stops working, I'll buy one. Once the sausage seems brown, which is confusing because it still kinda looks pink even when its brown, you put in the tomatoes, and spices. After you stir that put in the green stuff. I originally did this with basil, but I've been using Organic Girl Viva la France greens lately. I wouldn't say it adds much flavor, but it does add veggies. Anyhow, once all that seems pretty done, you mix in the brown. Oh yeah, at some point you already remembered to turn down the heat. How much brown stuff depends on how much you haphazardly made, how carby you are feeling, or how many of your storage containers are clean. If most of them are dirty and still at work, you could even skip the brown stuff, though I usually need it to be full.

Curry or Vindaloo Rotation Type Dish

Ingredients

• Chicken breasts or thighs-- This could depend on how much money you have and/or whether or not you are a protein type a gal. Turns out that dark meat is a little better for my metabolism AND I find it a little easier to cook.
• Veggies like carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli. It's nice if this is fresh, but it is easier to keep a few frozen bags of this mix on hand, so that's what I've been doing lately. It's like if being prepared is an excellent way to be prepared.
• Chickpeas/Garbanzo-- WTF do they have two names?
• Green stuff like in the last recipe
• Some Indian sauce marketed to white people-- I rotate them out, or otherwise I get overloaded on the flavors, but my favorites are the $7 tubs of Vindaloo or Curry at Whole Foods in the cheese section, which is probably not their official name. The Korma is excellent too, but it has too much cream for me to do for daily eating. Target oddly carries a green curry sauce I like too.
• Brown rice

Method
It is really pretty similar to the sausage. Slice up the chicken small enough to cook in a skillet. Get your big skillet, which is aqua instead of pink as you would prefer. Brown the chicken so that it's cooked. Not like beyond a shadow of a doubt, since you'll probably bring your sauce to a boil, but pretty much cooked. Then stir in your sauce. Add the veggies first and wait a minute if frozen. Add the chickpeas and greens sometime around here. After your sauce is kinda boily, turn down the heat. Ideally you would simmer this with a lid, but I don't have a lid for the big blue skillet, so sometimes I put a cookie sheet on top of that and call it good enough. Other times, I just say fuck it and cook it without the lid. Oh yeah, I hope you already cooked the rice. Once the chicken mixture simmers for a bit-- timing depends on hunger!-- stir in the rice, being sure to be like "oh fuck, there's all this extra water here because I refuse to measure" and pour said water out. Simmer while you wash up some plastic containers and curse it up while you try to find matching lids from your collection of 800 lids. Voila, dinner and lunch and dinner is served.

Also, I do a Tex Mex version of this as well. Same shit, but use beans, corn, onions, and vaguely Tex Mex sauce.

Soothing with Nutrition

I thought I had a reason to be sad when I broke my leg. I thought I had a reason to have the heavy heart on New Year's Day. But I didn't even know sad.

My dogbaby, Jimi Hendrix, has a carcinoma. After a troubling bout of diarrhea that led to finding a tumor, I got confirmation tonight that he has a carcinoma at the junction of his upper and lower intestines. Tomorrow we will visit the doggie oncologist, and hopefully learn right away about his chances for being treated with success and returning to health. From there I get to make decisions.

The whole process has involved a lot of waiting. Waiting to see if an antibiotic worked, waiting for an ultrasound and biopsy, waiting for the lab results to arrive at the vet, and waiting for the vet to call me, and then waiting for the words. And heartbreak, as I reflect over the reality that the time when I lose the best cuddler, hiking companion,travel buddy, comedian, and friend I've ever known might be here. I was holding it together and staying pretty positive, since Jimi was in excellent spirits, but on Saturday, when he actually started to show signs of anemia and an awareness that all was not right with him, I slid right down into an abyss of sadness.

 I know I am certainly not the first person to go through something like this, and that people certainly deal with loved ones even dearer with even more tragic problems; in fact, loss seems to be a hallmark of the human experience...but I can't imagine how. I don't know how we keep having children, or parents, or pets, or friends at all when sickness and tragedy exist. I think I've been blessed so far; though I've lost people and pets, I've never had to deal with the possibly imminent loss of someone so integrated into the fabric of my life. (Silent howl.) I was gladly ignorant to that wrinkle of humanity. For me, as much as I am sad and worried about Jimi, this also reminds me that I want to be close to my aging parents, who are separated from me by numerous states, that I need more financial power, and that I meant to have a life partner to lean on by the time things like this had to be faced. Making decisions like that will mean contemplating different kinds of losses. (Silent howl.)

This is a Miss Lady nutrition and body image blog, so I want to include some stuff about my nutrition. In the past, I've dealt with sadness by eating wildly--see Break-up Ice Cream Diet, or by eating in a nibbly and pitiful manner--see Break-up Starvation Diet. I can say that neither has good results; the former results in weight gain, pretty much immediately for me. The latter results in muscle loss, lowered metabolism, and eventual RAPID weight gain. Whatever the other side of this pain is, I know I want to reach it healthy-- with no mental or physical damage to my eatology. In the meantime, I know I want to be on fucking point for decision-making, appointment chauffering, and dogbaby advocacy. Having a broken leg taught me to absolutely be prepared for nutrition success, so I've stayed on top of stocking up on healthy items whenever I am near them and cooking ahead of time. I'm sure I'm still under-calorie and probably burning up my adrenals for a number of reasons, BUT I eat hearty portions as often as I can and load myself up with whatever veggies I can stomach. Every time I do that, I feel happy and affirmed--or I would if I didn't have a big anvil dark cloud ball of awful thingy sitting on my heart. If you didn't get slapped by that newsflash, lemme break it down for you: a white middle class southern woman, who is currently overweight, and who is me, a woman formerly lost in the forest of nutrition, has truly positive thoughts about feeding herself.

An even more important piece of the nutrition story here, is Baby Jimi's nutrition. As with my leg, I've figured out that doctors, particularly those not billing themselves as holistic, only deal with parts and illnesses. And that's fine with me...I suppose. I've not got time to radically rethink how I approach healthcare at this moment. When I broke my leg, my surgeon did the surgery stuff, and did it well, as he should. He also evaluates my x-rays, prescribes the appropriate pain pills, and helps me authorizes shit like parking placards and PT like a champion. The whole person stuff though, that was up to me. I  thought about the health I needed to heal my leg, and I fed myself accordingly. My leg didn't heal all lined up because of this-- that was Dr. Smoot's doing, but ultimately I healed "ahead of the curve" and that was all me (and a good dozen or so helpful friends). What I do holistically, complements what he does allopathically. (Am I using that right?)  The same has been true for Jim Jim. When they prescribe antibiotics, I replenish his GI tract with a multi-strain probiotic. When they put him on a low-fat food to help him baby tummy, I ask "what about the calories he needs to stay strong everywhere?" and work with the vet to find a diet that meets all the furry fur fur needs. I'm struck at this moment by what a journey this has been: just a few years ago, I ate entirely from boxes and had a disasterously meager set of cook skills. Now, I'm thankfully able to choose, procure, and make some pretty healthy stuff for myself and my loved pup without a second thought.

I did something for Jimi the other day that I never thought I would do, something that suddenly made me understand my own mother just a little more: I made my own chicken stock. I've previously scoffed at people who do this-- you're an American; just waste the damn bones, you overachiever! But after I roasted Jimi my first and the best whole chicken ever (turns out the extra ingredient IS love) and boiled him some rice in an almost correct fashion, and pulled the chicken from the bones, I placed them in some water, to make my own chicken stock in case he decided to forgo the toilet bowl (his fav) again and become dehydrated. Why did I do this? I mean, I had a box of organic chicken stock in the fridge. I did it for the same reason that I cooked the chicken and the rice and brought it to him in bed. I did it because I can. I can't make the cancer not be there, just like my mom can't make it so that nothing bad ever happens to me. I cook because I can.

Postscript: I'm not ready to really write about what it means to me, but an update should be here. I did all I could for him, but it didn't work out. On January 20, 2013, Baby Jimi crossed into dog heaven, the only heaven I'm really sure of.

Burger--no bun, with fries, thank you.

So...since I just got done eating this, and I non-resolved to post more, lemme write about my favorite fastish food order. For the purpose of clarification.

I am lucky enough to live in a city with lots of what I call fastish food options. Really, it IS fast food, just somewhat less industrialized and non-food (to varying degrees) than your typical fast food. Chipotle, Snap Kitchen, Fresa's Delicious Chicken, erewhere. I've noticed that the businesses that tend to do the best are the ones that mimic our beloved junk food but in a healthier way-- hence the long lines at P. Terry's. The burger, more than any other item ruined by modern American foodways, seems to call for reform. I mean, it was a simple meat and usually involves vegetables-- how did we make it so awful? So, it is not surprising to me that I can visit Elevation Burger, Flattop, Wholly Cow, P.Terry's, Hopdoddy for a better burger (various combinations of grass-fed, organic, local, etc) -- sometimes without even getting out of my car! You may think that's some lazy American horseshit (it is) but things like breaking your ankle or teaching to the point of exhaustion all day really make you appreciate people first world handing your first world food inside your first world car.

Anyhow, its a good thing, because I love burgers AND they are one of the few restuarant items I can always count on to be adapted to my eatin needs. When I'm not bending and flexing my own nutrition guidelines, I order a plain patty (or two) on top of a salad, BUT sometimes I bend and flex my own guidelines for the sake of sanity and variety. This means that sometimes I get cheese and if I wanna get real wild, I will order french fries, provided the fries being served are just potatoes and reasonable oil, two things that aren't inherently irritating to my system as long as no other french fry hoo doo happens. (As an aside, I really love that P.Terry's gets to advertise fries in canola oil like it is fancy-- what the hell are the fast fast places using? Gasoline? Heart attack sauce? Never mind, I don't wanna know.)

Here's the deal I want to clarify: Every time I order my burger without a bun but WITH fries, it causes confusion. Either for companions or employees, but always someone. Look, people, I KNOW that the whole lettuce wrapped burger or burger salad thing became popular because people were avoiding carbs totally. I KNOW that it would be less calories, etc to skip the fries, but sometimes I get them. I don't think that's exactly what causes the confusion though. What seems to confuse people is the idea that I don't just hog down on all the indulgent items, just because I want one of them. Like when people scoff at the idea of ordering a slice of pizza and a diet coke.  Remember when "pigging out" was a thing you could say you were going to do? That phrase went away though because A) the 80s ended and B) pigging out and eating are pretty much synomous in the standard American diet.

Even though I'm already ramble-ranting, I think it is worth the effort to explain why there's merit in my skipping the bun even when I want the fries. The first reason is simple--the bun is gluteny and gluten makes me feel like shit beyond a certain threshold. And bread is beyond that threshold. By shit, I mean that it causes bloating, irritability, and joint inflammation. I prefer not having those things, though I will put up with for something really good.

The second reason, people of 'merica, is the 'betes. Fries plus bread! That's just too much sugar to process, unless you just kick ass at processing sugar, and I don't. In the event that you don't know, it works something like this: If you dump a crap ton of sugar, in any form, but most especially in the forms that convert to sugar in the system pretty quickly, you get a profound insulin response aka an insulin spike. Your body is supposed to use insulin to process sugar, but SAD tests the limits of that system and often wears it right the fuck out-- also known as type two diabetes. The insulin response, in my experience and I THINK in science, can be evened out in a number of ways: not ingesting too much sugar/carbs-- why I'm able to keep my blood sugar in the 80s even though my insulin response is a little worn out, combining your sugar/carbs with fat (preferably good fat) which emulsifies it and keeps it from just DUMPING into your system, and using some sense of food combining-- like eating a balance of protein, carbs, and veggies ( for me, at least half as many grams of protein as carbs seems to work.) The latter two support my decision to get the fries instead of the bread, though of course the first point is why I usually don't get them. Oh apparently you can also slow the hell down when you eat though I haven't mastered this. I think it used to be that food traditions helped with this-- milk with cookies, balanced meals, sugar only in desserts, but I can only barely remember such things being widespread in my lifetime. Collectively, America's tradition is to eat like you are at a carnival, always.

So, people really expect me to either not get the fries if I'm not getting the bread-- who do I think I am making decisions that can't be marketed easily as a diet with a name?! Or more often I think it's just expected that I will get the bread because I'm getting the fries and also get a shake or a pie and wash that down with a soda (seriously soda, wtf are you? I'm not even drunk when I drink you. Useless.) Why not? It's crazy really-- even at the places that exist for the purpose of selling a more nutritious burger, I swear people would be more comfortable if I'd just order a dinner that will kill me. Or make me fat(ter). Gawd.

Happy New Year

Sigh. I'm supposed to come up with resolutions or something, but I'm officially in a funk. Not sure what brought it on..post-holiday let down? the bs symbolism of the "new year" that requires you reflect over the past year only to realize that nothing has changed since last year? the fact that I'm (re)rewatching an episode of 30 Rock where Liz Lemon realizes that her life doesn't change from year to year while I'm realizing that my life doesn't change from year to year which is probably what I did last year? Having only a gay male stranger to kiss at midnight on NYE, again, because another manfriend couldn't live up to my ever lowering standards? Or perhaps having reached the pinnacle of hair awesomeness and glamour with no clear direction  for my next coiffure? Who could know that answer to this? It's probably that last thing though.

Anyhow, my strategy for dealing with the funk is to write a blog entry, finally. I kinda want to clean the house or walk the dog...but unfortunately my bum foot hurts quite a bit (you know...like the kind of hurt that makes you think it will never be normal again and reminds you that you haven't done your PT and causes a pity spiral) from some ill-advised dancing last night. So, writing. Also, I'm worried that soon my friend Nora will point out that I haven't updated my blog in a while, and then I'll have to confront the fact that I haven't updated my blog in a while.

So here it is. Let me apologize for not being my usual cheery optimistic self.

On 9/7, I wrote that I "said it and meant it, no matter what" in reference to my goal of eating healthy for a year. So I was, and am, super proud of myself for maintaining excellent nutrition during the period of limited mobility after my leg break. As it turns out, this period of trying to return to normal is pretty hard too, but the 10 weeks after my surgery were some of the hardest in my life, and it was both awesome for my health and a significant symbolic victory for me to know that I could maintain a nutrition goal no matter what the obstacle. And if you don't count my Tacodeli concession/addiction, I didn't turn to food for emotional comfort at all!

So...if I could stay the course even while my ability to grocery shop or cook was limited, I can do anything right? Sure success, right? Nope.

So if a leg break didn't break me (har har), what did? Teaching. I'm not ready to go into the stresses of my job, which are compounded by my loving of it, but let's just say that you should hug a teacher immediately AND give her what's in your wallet. Anyhow,it started with some tortilla chips, and before I knew it...there was a snickers...and then I ate the Yule Log at my mom's house that she ordered from Gabriel's, the bakery that Paula Dean's cousin owns...have I mentioned this?...and then I ate a Homophobic Chicken Biscuit at the airport...and now I have 800 chins.

It's possible that I'm being dramatic. I'm still eating mostly healthy stuff and I even cooked a fresh and edible turkey chili today. And my beauty grows faster than my chins, so there's that.

Nonetheless, I can't get over the fact that I'm starting the year off with no dating potentials, not able to run, and unsure of where to go in my career. And I haven't taken a bath yet. Oh, and I wrote a wrote a whole post about resolutions without actually coming up with any. Blerg.

The Scale

Orginally, I was gonna tell the scale to fuck off in this post, just like Weight Watchers, but then I realized that all the harm the scale has caused really isn't the scale's fault. The problem is mine/ours: we keep trying to get it tell us info it just isn't designed to tell us. (And it could also be related to the fact that WW, who needs to fuck off, uses that scale so much. Hmm. Still mad.)

I think we've already more or less covered the story of the WW scale weigh in: the nervousness, the lightweight outfit...getting a star if the lady thinks you did good...did we talk about pooping beforehand? Here's another story for you:

In the spring of 2011 when I first started seeing a nutritionist, she did a baseline body composition test on me. I'm not talking about a test with calipers, unkindly applied to your fatty fat by a gym teacher or a sophmore kinesiology major at 24 Hour Fitness. I mean a sophicated, many thousands of dollars machine that measures your body fat, water, and lean mass including bone and muscle by sending some electricity...to...do some...stuff. We like to pretend that all that matters is monitoring the fat, but in reality we know that we are made up of all of these things, and that the water and muscle also fluctuate in ways good and bad. Body comp provides ALL the information.

So after doing a food based cleanse for about two weeks, where I felt great...if a little starved, I went back in to check and discuss my body's response. Carly always has you get on the scale first. I'm not totally sure of her purpose for that, but for me it was interesting proof of the utter lack of relationship between the two sets of numbers. Anyhow at the first check-in, the scale said I was down 7lbs! A WW leader would have done a cartwheel. Doesn't that sound fantastic? Doesn't that mean you should keep eating exactly the same thing since it is WORKING?

You know me too well...the answer is no. When we did the body comp, it revealed that I had actaully lost 5.5 lbs of muscle and only 1.5 lbs of fat. As you may know, Miss Lady is made up of many proud muscles and lots of glitter.  Since I didn't want to lose any muscle, because I need it, and because muscle loss looks unpleasant to me, and because the point of nutrition is not to become weak and jiggly, we knew we had to change this. She ordered me to eat more MORE protein, up to 8oz per meal, and though we still haven't gotten to the bottom of the lack of fat loss, I have never lost any more muscle, and I generally can at least maintain my weight without feeling starved.

What strikes me too about this story, is how the converse would have played out at a WW meeting, or, to be fair, in any situation where the scale is the only real measure: If you work your ass out, let's say doing something badass like roller derby or boxing or powerlifting, you will gain muscle. Muscle weighs more than fat, so even if you lose fat too, your overall number might be larger. Its my understanding too that muscle retains water while it is building (or somesuch, no need to belabor the science if it holds up) so it is also possible to have the water number increase. In a scenario like this, you could have your muscle go up 5lbs, your water go up 1lb temporarily, and your fat decrease by 3lbs. Even though that is actally a kick ass situation for your body, if you only look at the scale, you will think you have gained 3 damn lbs of badness. If you are in a weigh-in situation, you will get a pitying head tilt. You will stress and wonder how to change your diet and if you will ever lose weight and if the world is fair at all, when you should be congratulating yourself.

So, what to do? I'd say throw out the scale, but it is one of the cheaper, more widely available ways to evaluate your body mass. The body composition tests are not everywhere and are not cheap, though I do think they are worth the money and time at least a few times a year. Of course, I am a big fan of measuring. For two dollars, that damn thing tells me plenty...though I do have to be careful to remeber that my measurements can vary for reasons like sneaky gluten bloating or lady cycles.

The solution really seems to be in not asking too much of the scale. I know, as well or better than anyone, how much you want it to tell you whether or not you'll ever lose weight or if people think you are pretty...or even just what the numbers mean that week, but it can't. Yes, if you weigh 20 lbs less on a scale after two months, you can probably say that some of your choices are producing fat loss. Or if you weight 20lbs more and can't find any new bulging muscles, you might make some assumptions from there. But on a week to week or day to day basis...all it can tell you is what your muscle and bone and water and fat add up to be. Nothing else.

News: "Ahead of the curve"

In foot/ankle/leg news, I visited the doctor today. After a very scary weight-bearing x-ray, the doc pronounced that my leg looked good, and that I am, in fact, "ahead of the curve."

What do I attribute being "ahead of the curve" to? You guessed it: nutrition. Avoiding processed foods, which are inflamtory to all kinds a people AND taking up space in your belly while being anutritional. Avoiding foods that are inflamatory to me, such as copious cow dairy. Eating plenty of calories-- not like Seymour gave me any other choice. Eating all the protein I could. And taking fish oil.

So there you have it. My doctor indicated that it was a good plan and definitely one I should stick with if it seems to help. He also said I should write a book, which is something people say to me here and there. Hmm...

Look out your damn window for unicorns...

or to see if hell froze over or something.

So this needs its own separate post, just to highlight it: I lost a small amount of weight, seemingly fat, while not able to exercise, or even move around that much.

Yes, people it can be done. No, it isn't drastic. Yes, my metabolism is probably still jacked in some way. (Side note: I have blood test results waiting for me, but my gyno is located on top of one of the biggest hills in Austin. No, I'm not going there in a wheelchair or on a kneeling scooter. Soon though.) I haven't had a body comp done, but I am pretty sure I lost fat along with the inevitable loss of muscle that comes with this--seriously, I have one bird leg.

My current measurements are something like this:

Overbust: 45
Waist 34
Hips 45

And my clothes don't be bothering me like they were. It's also possible that a lot of this is getting rid of BLOAT, which seems to have partially returned once I started up with the bourbon and coffee, but even if I actually didn't lose any fat...I didn't gain any, which is a miracle*. So now you should look for a unicorn.

*Not God, people--my friends, who have helped me eat right despite not being able to prepare much myself. Special shout out to Joan Jolt, who preps the food ALL the days.

Meal Planning FTW

So, if anything good has come out of my otherwise fairly shite experience breaking my leg, it has been the relative mastery of several distinct types of organization-- work clothes, house shit, and eatins preparation aka meal planning.

So, it turns out that if you plan out some meals, and then make a grocery list, and then go to the store (or send your friend), and then make those meals (or have your friend do it), and then eat those meals (with your friend), you'll be totally organized in the eatins arena. Make all the meals! Oh, you have to make time to do all this btw, instead of doing other no-so-adult stuff non-stop, which is probably where I was going wrong before.

Weekend schedule before leg break: Breakfast, yoga, park, lunch, shop for sparkly things, hair, bourbon, breakfast, derby, lunch/dranks, park, yoga, laundry--maybe, sleep.

Weekend schedule now: Breakfast, park, lunch, shop for sparkly things...oh wait. This is almost the same. Well anyhow, I make time for meal planning now.

If you are curious, basically I brainstorm meals based on what I already have and would like to have, like any good writing teacher. Then I plug those meals into a umm...quick graphic organizer/rough draft wherein I plug meals in for dinner and plan to have the same thing for at least one more meal, most likely lunch the next day. Oh jesus...then I write a final draft.

Eatins, approximately anyhow:

Tues Sept 25th
Eggs + bacon
Lunch: Maybe Vindaloo? Not sure.
Dinner: Fresa's chicken with beans, two tortillas, and street corn. AND a side of Junot Diaz, the Pultizer Prize winner, who kissed me. That's right.
Snacks: Beer

Wed Sept 26th
Day off from work: Tacodeli and coffee!
Elevation burger-- lettuce wrapped burgers...with a few fries...cooked in olive oil.
Maybe something else.
Chicken Vindaloo...cooked for the next day...but I'm pretty sure I had a bit at night, as the burger was kinda early.



Thur Sept 27th
Egg Cups with chicken sausage and carrots and yellow tomatoes
Chicken Vindaloo
Tarka-- Chicken Korma with brown rice I brought there my own self. Why no brown rice world?

Fri Sept 28th

Sat Sept 29
Tacodeli-- 3 Ottos
Dinners: Sweet chili chicken with basil and brown rice, small portion. Then, rice paper sushi rolls from Whole Foods.

Sun Sept 30
The DAY OF EIGHT TORTILLAS...I see now that this week has way too many corn tortillas in general.
Tacodeli
Lunch: ?
Dinner: Fresas chicken with uh...tortillas, plus rice and beans, and street corn.

Mon Oct 1
2 eggs cups w oatmeal
Lunch:
Dinner:

Tue Oct 2
2 egg cups w oatmeal
Lunch:
Thai beef salad on greens--beef, sweet chili, basal, mint, greens.
Snacks: Larabars

Wed Oct 3
 Three Eggs, Three Bacons, Oatmeal with berries almonds
Thai Beef Salad with brown rice-- beef, sweet chili, basal, mint.
Thur Oct 4
 Three Eggs, Three Bacons, Oatmeal with berries and almonds

Thur Oct 4
Egg cups?
Lunch: chicken and greens?
Dinner: Chicken salad with Latin Quinoa Salad from Central Market

Fri Oct 5
2 Egg cups with oatmeal
Lunch: Crazy salad with chicken strips-- I think.
Dinner: Zen stirfry stuff
Snacks: Four Roses bourbon-- Eff You Teaching Career!


Sat Oct 6
Tacodeli Ottos--2 w coffee
Lunch: Big Daddy's bacon cheeseburger salad--meh
Dinner: Chicken salad with carrots and hummus and latin quinoa salad
Snacks: Bourbon and beer!

Sun Oct 7
Tacodeli Ottos--2 w coffee
Whole Foods Brown Rice Salmon Sushi

Mon Oct 8
 Three Eggs, Three Bacons, Oatmeal with berries and almonds
Lunch: Can't remember...the schedule says it was supposed to be Chicken Vindaloo...but the dog ate that, so it can't be right. I think it was a crazy salad with salami.
Steak, Aspargus, Fingerling Potatoes

Tue Oct 9
 Three Eggs, Three Bacons, Oatmeal with berries and almonds
Steak, Aspargus, and Fingerling Potatoes
Crazy salad-- Curry chicken salad, tomatoes, almonds, hummus, erething, greens, the kitchen sink.


Wed Oct 10
 Three Eggs, Three Bacons, Oatmeal with berries and almonds
Lunch: Curry Chicken Salad with hummus and tomatoes and greens and berries- aka crazy salad.
Dinner: Beet salad with pork belly and one beer from Black Star Coop.
Snacks: Larabars

Thur Oct 11
Breakfast: Three Eggs, Three Bacons, Oatmeal with berries and almonds
Lunch: Curry Chicken Salad + Quinoa salad (both courtesy of Lushie aka The Duchess) on a bed of greens with tomatoes. Pickle.
Dinner: Half- serving of Zen, double chicken on brown rice with veggies and peanut sauce.
Snacks: Larabars

Friday Oct 12-- This was a weird, disorganized eatin day actually.
Breakfast: Eggs and bacon, iced coffee
Snacks: Two thunderbird bars
Lunch: Chicken salad and brown rice
Dinner: Latin Lushie Quinoa, Slice o brisket
Dinner: salami, hummys, Latin Lushie Quinoa

Sat Oct 13
Breakfast: Tacodeli--2 Ottos on corn, 1 Otto no tortilla
Lunch: uhh...breakfast was lunch
Dinner: WF pork loin, sweet potatoes, aspargus
Snack: Almond Delight smoothie

Note: I don't always note it, but a crazy salad could include any or ALL of the following: baked chicken, turkey slices, salami, avocado, boiled eggs, panchetta, bacon, hummus, tomatoes, greens, other hummus, berries.

Leftouts: It seems that I left out many Larabars, some bananas, some sweet potatoes, and some chicken tenders. And a whole bottle of bourbon. Actually, I know where that goes...so I'll edit. Well, I didn't drink it all myself, but I had a good amount.

Also, sometimes we follow the plan exactly; sometimes we don't...but we are always better off for having it.

Reality Check: The Day of Eight Tortillas

Dear Self,

Eight tortillas in one day is not nutritionally sound for any style of eater. It doesn't matter how delicious the items inside be, or how wonderfully convenient the tortilla is for transporting things from the plate/bag/basket/napkin to your mouth. It is not right. Be advised.

Thanks,
Self


Dear Self Who Talks to Me Like We Have Multiple Personality Disorder,

See, what had happened was...Tacodeli. And Fresa's. And how I didn't want to inconveinence Jeffery. And we was shopping! And then we got tired!

Shut up and stop judging,
Self


So, what actually had happened was that I got a little ambitious with my coffee and taco treats one weekend. So I know that I have previously posted about avoiding "treat thinking" but that turns out to be pretty hard, especially when you are super broke leg bored. So I've just tried to come up with less harmless treats, such as: Betsey Johnson purses from the discount store, tacos with organic ingredients, and a spot o coffee--on most of the days.TREAT YO SELF! So far, I'm still down an inch or so in the waist, and not too broke, so it's worked out okay. Actually promises of shopping and Tacodeli on the weekend, keep me pretty honest during the week.

However, sometimes I feel sad when the Ottos from Tacodeli are done. And then, I remembered this one time when my friend, let's call her Kottie Darate, had three tacos from Tacodeli and she wasn't fat afterward or anything, so I thought of a solution: Three Ottos! I eat two right away...and one more later. Later means anywhere from 5 mins to 2 hours as it turns out. Its a fine plan except that Tacodeli doubles up those corn tortilla and sometimes I confuse gluten-free with calorie free or carb free.. Like when I asked Jeffery to bring us dinner later that night, and I suggested that he bring us the chicken and beans and tortillas and street corn from Fresa's. I hadn't planned to eat any tortillas, but then TREAT YO SELF! By the time I was smart enough to count up the day's tortillas, I had done already had 8 tortillas, hence the Day of Eight Tortillas.

It actually was a good thing (I guess) because it reminded me that I need to watch the damn carbs, gluten free or not. Now that my bone is presumably (x-rays next week) healed up or close to it, I don't seem to be FOOT HONGRY anymore, so I've cut back a bit on the brown rice. I don't think I've had any in a week (except for the brown rice immabout to eat right now) and I haven't missed it. I'm pretty sure that weight isn't going to just fall off of me, STILL, but it will help.

Anyhoo, that was what had happened.

Foot HONGRY!

I thought I was making it up, but apparently I'm not. So, I've been extremely bizarrely HONGRY pretty much ever since I got my appetite back post-surgery. Freakish hunger. As in, today, my nice friend who moved in to take cares of Miss Lady, and who is now officially my non-sexual housewife (that's how those things work anyhow right?), made me 3 eggs, 3 baconssssss, and half a cup of oats with a shit-ton of almonds for breakfast. I ate it around 7:50. By the time class started at 9, HONGRY had happened. This has been going on for weeks.

Anyhoo, while I know that this is partly a result of eating whole foods with a specific focus on low carbs, I also suspected that it had to do with trying to regrow my bones. According to a very reliable source known as the internet or Dr. Google, this is true. You do, in fact, need to increase your intake when you are making broke shit whole again. At least I do. Eatin for two!-- me and me leg.

More anyhoo, I'm gonna ask my doc and my nutritionist (who is still mine even though I don't pay her or see her anymore) about this so my knowledge is more legit. Anecdotally though, dis true.

Eatins Mon the 17th-- Mon 24th

So, super good news--I'm eating healthier and more efficiently than ever. Menus, grocery lists, bulk cooking, yes!  I only have an exact record from the 17th, but pretty much everything has been like this.

Mon 17th
Breakfast-- Eggs cups and oatmeal. WTF is an egg cup? If I haven't been over it, it's a mini-crustless- quiche cup.
Lunch-- Jeffrey's stirfry-- Oh so, I have a BF and he made me a stirfry with pork, brown rice, and assorted veggies. Wasn't half bad for some shit a boy cooked. Ahhahaha!
Dinner-- Chicken and Kale salad from Laura. Also balsamic vinagrette on berries and almonds.
Snack-- 2 bars probably-- Thunderbird or Larabars.

Tues 18th
Egg cups
Jeffrey Stirfry
Steak, with sweet potatoes--mashed, and aspargus drizzled with oil.
Snacks-- probably bars, also some figs

Wed 19th
Bacon, eggs, and oatmeal. I think this was the day of many bacons.
Steak salad with greens and mashed sweet potatoes
Zen-- double chicken, peanut sauce, buddha veggies, and brown rice.
Snacks--bars and bananas

Thur 20th
Eggs cups and oatmeal
Lunch: Beef stew
Dinner: Chipotle-- chicken double, black beans, guac, brown rice, pico, corn.
Snacks-- bars and bananas

Fri 21st
Eggs and bacon and oatmeal with nuts and shit
Chicken vindaloo w brown rice, chick peas, broccoli, and carrots. Mmm.
Salty Sow-- Sangria cocktail, truffled deviled eggs, and split entree of beef cheeks and crispy chicken.
Snack-- 1.25 beers, bars

Saturday
Tacodeli-- 2 Ottos plus COFFEEEEEEEE! Iced with a dropletttte of cream.
Lupper-- Fresa's Mutherfucking Achiote Chicken-- Have you been here? Up on Lamar, y'all. We got-- a whole damn chicken, bunch o beans, rice (that I didn't eat, why world don't have brown rice?), new potato salad, STREET CORN, corn tortillas and delicious sauces. I'm glad no one could see how fast or how sloppily we ate that chicken.
Snack-- Bourbon! It was scary to let go of a little bit of control at this high stress time, but I did it and I'm glad.

Sunday
Tacodeli-- 3 Ottos spread out across the morning. As in I ate one of them a half hour later. What's better than 2 Ottos? Yes, 3 Ottos. Coffee was done had out on the veranda.
Lunch: Starbucks ice tea and Larabar.
Dinner: Chicken Vindaloo with brown rice and veggies and all that.
Late night HONGRY snack-- hummus, carrots, and salami.

Monday-- 3 eggs, 3 bacons, and the shit-ton of oatmeal.
Snack: Larabar
Other snack: banana
Lunch: Fresa's chicken leftovers
Dinner: Zen Seared Tuna salad with a side of STILL HONGRY
Snack: Larabar
Snack: Fake banana based ice- cream ala Joan with high cocoa/low sugar dark chocolate shreds.

So anyhow, or anyhoo, if there's been any blessing to a broke leg, and that's a big IF, it's that it came at a time when I was already eating well, so that I don't have to be stressed AND that I've had to learn to be more organized with the food. If I can keep this up, happy forever.

PS-- I forgot to say that I am taking lots o fish oil, and plan to add in a multi-vitamin. Also Dr. Google said that the silicon in moderate beer consumption could be good, so yeah.

Treat Thinking

Treat thinking. I'm sure you know it, even if you're like so awesome that you don't participate in it (hey...that's me right now...except let's see if I can last till the end of this post) or it doesn't seem to cause a problem for you. Here's a common scenario: I just ran 3,7, 22, or whatever miles; I deserve a treat.

There's two ways of thinking about that. Here's some healthy attitude bullshit that can be hard to sustain in the course of putting up with life's additional bullshit: "Running and the health benefits I receive from it are treats all by theyselves! I don't need to have a chocolate covered chocolate cake."

Another way to think of it is that you do, in fact, deserve a treat. I'm mean, hell yes, you deserve a treat. People are out there having treats without even having gotten off their couch. You burned like 80zillion calories, so you can have a treat. You ran. Despite what you might hear at a Weight Watchers (fuck off) meeting, I think this is okay enough thinking if you are actually willing to do the math. If you really did burn, say 2000 calories, you actually are going to need to take in some additional calories to sustain a healthy consistent metabolism that continues to both burn and fuel your workouts. If you want to position some of these calories as a treat or post-workout reward, I think that's fine as long as it's one of MANY reasons why you did that workout. If every workout is just a path to enchildas, that's probably going to break down at some point. Not that I know from experience or anything.

The real catch is that you actually have to do the actual math and then actually stick to it. Everybody who knows Miss Lady knows Miss Lady is math adverse. I find a million ways to not do it, including..umm eating whole foods exclusively so that I don't have to worry so much about calorie math-- I never do it, except as a part of occasionally troubleshooting my trouble with weight loss. A perfect example of when I effed this up was when I gained fat while marathon training. Bourbon and queso and math adversion plus a failure to be reasonable (another option actually) meant that I gained 5 bad pounds-- not muscle-- during the holidays. While running up to 40 miles per week. Though I also know that distance training is not the ideal way for me to lose weight, I also know that is some BROKEN ASS treat thinking. For another example of BROKEN ASS treating thinking, see Weight Watchers-- "I was so good today and I still have 8 pts left because I ate from the 4pts boxes all day and now I can have cake so I can live another day!"

So treat thinking is a real danger right now. Because I so could. Accomplishing pretty much anything with a broken leg is a pretty good workout. There also might be some temptation to feel, somewhat justifiably, sorry for yourself. And then just have a treat. Here's an example that may or may not have driven me to the computer to write this: Cat litter. You can't change it on one foot. But you also can't let it just stink, because its Tuesday and you smelled it on Saturday and the cat has left a warning poo outside the litter. Some images: a pee and clay slush, Miss Lady balancing on one foot cursing herself for not be adamant that liners should be purchased, Miss Lady tossing the whole slushy pan into a bag after trying to unstick what was stuck, Miss Lady cursing everyone who was here and didn't change this litter-- dammit-- even though they were helpful in a thousand other ways, Miss Lady learning to mop on one foot, and then having to wash that one foot for reasons I dont want to talk about. Also, Miss Lady trying to explain to the friend who will buy her a new box that regular size is oddly labeled "jumbo" and then hating the whole cat litter industry. HATE.

I could really use a treat right now, but I don't want to get into that type of thinking. If I do though, fortunately the only thing in the house like that is Larabars, which ain't so bad. AND its lunch time now, so I can just go have the food I need to eat anyhow.

Wait...and there's cold brew coffee. Always a totally healthy and excusable treat. Problem solved.

Miss Lady's Resolve: Tested

Remember how I wrote that blog about not falling of my regimins for a year, no matter what came up? Well, I was thinking that my challenges would be things like a music festival where I really wanted to drink alot or perhaps a really yummy chocolate cake somewhere. I didn't think that anything like breaking my leg would come up.

Can I just say that it is worse than I ever thought it would be? The break hurt, yes, but the interupption to life, and the dependence this causes is crazy. Before I got my kneeling walker with basket, I attempted crutches, which I am really bad at. To demonstrate the dependence that this causes, I had my friend boil me some eggs, so I could keep my protein up and have breakfast ready. When I got to the kitchen in the morning though, I realized that I could not carry the eggs anywhere or stand up for long enough to peel-n-eat them. It would be so easy to just flop down on the sofa and order pizzas.

But I said it and I meant it. For a year. No matter what.

I should also mention that a part of how I am able to continue with this, is the willingness of my friends to bring me brown rice and chicken instead of comfort casseroles, that I know would be easier. I need healthy food for my healing more than ever now, and it is nice to have so many people invested in this goal with me. Extra special thanks to Nora for starting my food tree.

Eatings have included:
painkillers
brown rice with chicken and salad
various chicken salads
chicken sausage and lentils
rotisserie chicken
egg and sausage cups
Tacodeli
800 Larabars
hummus, carrots, and tomatoes
Delicious lemony chicken with zucchini and Morracan carrot salad
coffee
chicken vindaloo
plus other stuff I cant remember

I've never eaten so well, or felt so loved.

No Free Lunch

Did y'all know I like to write about things that irritate me? No? That's not possible, because I barely write about anything else. In fact, I'm pretty sure I exist so that I can tell the world what's irritating me and thus make that world a better place.

So as a part of my new job (btw life challenges/changes = nutrition challenges, but I bet you knew that) I have to go to a lot of trainings, curriculum sessions, etc. For instance, I got to go to new teacher training even though I'm not new to teaching at all!! The district wide day of new teacher training occured at a campus that some of us refer to as North San Antonio, in one of those bizarre parts of Austin that seem like suburban, where there are practically no bike riders or people wearing a jester hat for no reason. So because the campus is surrounded by houses and apartments and 900 teachers drove into the little parking lot that morning, the district provided us "lunch." The conversation I had about that "lunch" is what is inspiring this rant.

In exchange for not paying us what we are worth, and so that it seems like our jobs contain semblance of the perks sometimes provided to professionals, they often feed us in education. Donuts provided by student councils or dance teams, bagels and cream cheese paid for by the administrative team, occasionally breakfast tacos which teachers devour like raptors. Side story-- this one time, they brought us these little chicken mini biscuits from Chick-Fil-A and nobody could really tell how many you were eating so some teachers who are not me ate a bunch cause...yeah. What? Where was I? Anyhow, I used to eat all the crap, because it is very nice of whomever in a way, and we are supposed to be super-grateful, and we are usually broke around this time. At some point though, I started charting how much my weight changed at the beginnings and ends of school years-- the heavy free food times. Average weight gain was 5 lbs. So that's 10 lbs a school year if you don't do anything about it. Have you seen a teacher's butt lately?

So I finally decided that free wasn't really free of costs to me, and I stopped eating that shit. Its easy enough till I get trapped where I'm expected to eat what they provide. On district wide day at the North San Antonio school, I got thrown off by the email that said "lunch provided" and forgot to prepare. I thought they meant lunch, but they meant "lunch." Grr...It was a box lunch from Scholtzky's that included a sandwich with their gigantor bread, chips, a pickle, and a cookie. Or as I like to call it "gluten, carbs, sugarcrack, and chemicals." I ended up eating the inside of the sandwich and the pickle and then making a decision to go to Starfucks and get a protein plate, even if it made me late for my next session. I spoke to one of the Teacher Induction Program people hanging out near the sandwiches and she told me that they "can't possibly think about each person's special nutrition." Pfft. First, what nutrition? There are very few people, especially in the big butt world of teaching, that are ideally nourished by a meal of bread, cookies, and chips with a tiny amount of protein. I'm gonna say, that based on the average American butt size, never mind teacher butt size, that many people see detrimental effects from that, ranging from getting the yawns to the 'betes. I'm not saying that everybody has to be doing something about it during that exact meal time, but I don't think it should be outta the question to replace one of those things with an apple for crying out loud.  I mean we can think about who wants turkey or roast beef, but not who wants a salad?

Rant over. I should have prepared better. I've had a few other situations like that in the past week where I was prepared when I showed up to a bagel and juice breakfast or donuts, and it was fine. Nonetheless, here are a few guidelines I'd like to offer the world:

Do tell people what kinda lunch or breakfast is provided. So not "breakfast provided" but "shitty stale bagels" or "semi-drinkable coffee provided." Even "box lunch" is somewhat informative.

If you are a big organization that prides itself on technology integration, why not send out a survey? Then you can order close to the right amount-- rather than running out of roast beef and having dozens of veggie sandwiches left. And then you could order up some chicken salads because I could have told you on the survey that I would indeed eat that.

Get with the times, dammit. Never mind the many fallacies of dieting fads, the past decade or so has included Atkins and South Beach and paleo eatins-- plenty of things that advocate protein. Are people really missing this? Some people prefer protein and veggies. Some people prefer veggies and no gluten. Especially in a place like Austin. Gah.

Donuts are not breakfast. Please indicate that morning dessert will be provided instead of calling this breakfast.

Thank you. Carry on.

Eatings:

August 13th
Breakfast: Eggs w/ ?
Snack: Larabar
Lunch: Bowl full of turkey, hummus, guacamole, carrots, tomatoes
Dinner: Salmon burger with gorgonzola and cranberries...actually based on how sinful it tasted and how it made me feel...I describe it as more of a salmon cake...definitely more bread crumbs. On top of greens with tomatoes.
Snack: I suspect I had a banana with peanut butter. I feel like a nectarine happened on this day as well.

August 14th
Breakfast: Eggs, bacon, steel cut oats with blueberries
AND COFFEE with a drop of cream
Lunch: About 1 oz of turkey from the inside of a sandwich with a lame tomato and some shredded lettuce. Pickle. Miss Lady MAD! Then coffee happens again.
Snack: Starbucks protein plate sans muffin or sugary pb (ooh future rant!) so really just the cheese and egg and fruit
Dinner: Cranberry gongonzola salmon business on greens again.

August 15th:
Breakfast: Tacodeli Otto with the tortilla. Yes, I'm starting that again. It gets me outta bed? AND COFFEE.
Snack: None really, but this lady in my training gives me her coffee because they forgot to give her sugar.
Lunch: Central Market Cafe Hatch Chile burger with avocado and bacon, no bun. Side salad with many colors.
Dinner: Chicken with Dona Sauce (from Tacodeli) and hatch pico, baked. Served on green with tomatoes and guacamole.
Snack: Two whole beers.

August 16th
Breakfast: Eggs, bacon, steel cut oats with blueberries. Coffee.
Lunch: Turkey and cranberry salad from HEB (came unprepared and was loaned lunch. Delicious but full of chemical ingredients. Why HEB?) Apple. Coffee.
Snack: Peanut butter and banana. Turkey and hummus with bananas and carrots. Maybe guacamole.
Dinner: Taco in a bowl from Cherrywood: Eggs, avocado, bacon.

August 17th
Breakfast: Tacodeli Otto. With the tortilla? Fraid so.
Lunch/Snack: Chicken with guac
Dinner: Salad from Black Star Coop-- Beets, Chicken, Greens, Candied (yeah) pecans, goat cheese
Snack: Beers, 2 giant Waterloos, 1 Lonestar. Lots of water!

August 18th
Breakfast: Eggs, bacon, steel cut oatmeal with blueberries
Lupper: Chipotle bowl with lettuce, chicken, pico, brown rice, guac, black beans
Snack: Brown rice salmon sushi from WF, some cocktail from Highball. Sugar was not listed as an ingredient on the menu...but I saw it go in the drink. Grr.

August 19th
Breakfast: Eggs, bacon, and steel cut oats with blueberries. Yes it is good. Why do you ask?
Lunch: Double Carnitas Chipotle bowl. The usual otherwise.
Dinner: Banana with PB.