What is the opposite of Body Dysmorphia?

I remember seeing a picture of what body dysmorphia is a long time ago. Basically, there are multiple line drawings of a person, the same person, from extremely trim to very portly. An eating disorder care provider shows the picture to a patient and asks them to point to the one that looks the most like them. For someone who has body dysmorphia, they will inevitably select a representation that is three or so sizes larger than they actually are. That is how they see themselves, even in the mirror, even when reality is something else entirely.

I have had a disordered relationship with eating and exercise, but sometimes I think I have the opposite of "dysmorphia." When I was growing up, I never "felt fat" (which isn't a real thing, but you get what I mean) before I heard that I was fat from other people. 

Taking a bath with my cousins: "You're as fat as my mom."

Sitting behind a classmate on a van for a field trip in junior high and accidentally hitting the back of his head as I moved some stuff around, then apologizing only to be told: "You're so fat."

Bagging groceries at 16 years old: "Oh, are you expecting?! I worked at a grocery store when I was pregnant with my first."

And it got to me. I remember standing in front of my parents' bathroom mirror (because it was bigger than mine,) and puffing out my stomach, looking at my reflection and saying, "I hate you. You're so gross." 

But the thing is... I didn't hate myself. I thought I was really cool, funny, and smart. It really never occurred to me until it happened (over and over) that someone might not be interested in me because of how my body looked.

And yet: "She's too much woman for me." "You have to pull it together; you're about 50 pounds overweight." "We can be friends, but I'm just not physically attracted to you."

This worked, and by "worked," I mean that it got me to lose weight multiple times in my life. But I still always always thought, "If this person would get to know me, I think I could win them over because of how I am. I'm pretty awesome!" 

(Incidentally, the same person who told me he wasn't physically attracted to me came around months later, apologized for saying that -- I'd given him a talking to about how rude it was -- and said he actually DID find me attractive... but fortunately, I was old enough to have some self-respect and wasn't interested in him.)

Furthermore, when I look in the mirror, I like what I see. I think I look great most of the time. Sometimes, I'll see a picture that makes me go, "Yeesh," which I think is a normal human experience. But I think I'm cute. I identify as "fat" (specifically "small fat" since I can buy clothes in non-"extended" sizing, but only barely and not certain brands) because I think my BMI is in the "overweight" category (though I haven't weighed in more than a decade) and clothing sizes tell me I'm big... but I don't, again, this isn't a real thing, "feel fat." 

This is probably because I'm extremely fortunate genetically. My parents both have long-lived parents and grandparents, and we just hit the lottery that way. Diabetes doesn't run on either side. Heart issues are sprinkled around, but neither of my parents has heart disease. I haven't developed arthritis yes, and I didn't do the kind of youth sports that would come back to haunt me as an adult. I have been lucky enough to mostly be able to afford the healthcare I need to stave off problems (though I *do* need a neck ultrasound and a DEXA scan, and have for 2 years... I'm just glad we still had insurance to get my thyroid and parathyroid removed before the coverage ran out!). 

So the fact that I can get up and go and do whatever I want to do, with my body being pretty darn reliable, means I don't have complaints that make doctors suggest that losing weight might help. None of my doctors since I've been an adult has suggested weight loss or dietary changes, regardless of my weight at the time of care.

All of this means that it just surprises the crap out of me when people ask if I'm pregnant (the last time this happened when I wasn't actually pregnant was about 15 years ago; now I probably look too old for that to be a possibility). Or that I'm too shocked to respond when a family member found out how much Mal weighed at birth and said, "What?! You mean I carried a heavier baby than YOU did?!" (She was 5 days postpartum, so I gave her some grace but... holy crap, it's okay to think things and not say them out loud.)

I also want to state that I think fat people ARE cute. I know that fat people are healthy and active and, in fact, a lot more active than I am (fat marathoners, I see you... from the stands and support you but that couldn't be me). I also know that a lot of people can't achieve whatever "healthy" means because of disability or access to medical care or chronic health issues. And those things can happen to anyone regardless of size.

But my point is that there is a disconnect somewhere that I am so absolutely shocked and appalled when someone looks at my body and then makes a comment that does not align with my own experience of myself, and it's jarring. 

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Dear Diary session. Have a great weekend!

The Struggle Continues

That sounds like an exciting sequel, but it's not. It's annoying and exhausting and I often feel like I'm over it, but then it sucks me back in, and this both disappoints me and pisses me off.

Mostly, I don't think critically much about how I look. I try to keep my hair brushed, my hands and face clean, and my clothes comfortable. Then I go about my day and it's fine.

But sometimes, especially at certain times of the month, and maybe especially especially because my body is making some midlife changes that I KNOW TO EXPECT... Sometimes, I just feel like I don't know the body I see in the mirror when I'm not expecting to see it.

The part about this that bothers me the most is that I am anti-feeling-like-crap about the way you look. I outgrew self-hate-speak years ago. I see pictures of myself from 15 years ago and think I look... insubstantial. I don't want to go back to that. Maintaining an artificially low (for me) body weight took up so much of my energy and attention that I have zero desire to go back to those days.

And yet...

My body is changing quickly and seems partially alien to me. I'm still flexible. I do the splits, I stretch, I squat, I bend. But now, when I try to touch my nose to the knees of my outstretched legs, I can't... because my belly is in the way.

I feel spry (mostly; I did a killer workout Friday and am just now getting over being sore about that on Sunday evening), and my body does what I want it to. I don't struggle with movement, and I'm strong enough to handle most tasks I set out to do on my own. In other words, I'm extremely functional, and probably more so now than I have been in years.

I'm proud of who I am, what I've learned, how I'm trying to improve, and of the life I and my people have built. It is absolutely profane that a chance encounter with my own reflection at an angle I wasn't prepared for threatens to send me spiraling.

Here's what I know: I'm not going to do anything about it. It's dangerous, mentally and physically. Usually, I just wait it out until the feeling passes. Fortunately, I guess, my life is generally too busy to get mired down in this sort of thing for very long.

Update: I'm past it now but wanted to go ahead and post this because... most of us end up in that space sometimes. 

Here's a picture of me walking last week. I have to go VERY late not to walk in complete darkness since Daylight Saving Time started again. I hate having no time to myself when I get home, but seeing sunrises like this *almost* make it worth it.

"You Look Great" as blatant fatphobia

This weekend, I attended an event where one of the people there has lost upwards of 100 pounds during the pandemic. He himself was pretty low-key about it, only talking when people remarked or asked questions. He said that basically his weight loss was due to doing mental health work and realizing that he was spending a lot of time eating to avoid wrestling with his anxiety and other issues.

Twice, I heard people say, "You look great!" Both times, I cringed. Both times, I didn't say anything because I haven't seen these people in at least a year and a half, and some of them I had never met before. When my mom recently remarked that someone who'd lost a bunch of weight "looks great," I said, "She looks smaller. She looked fine before."

I wish I'd spoken up this weekend.

Fatphobia is ugly.

Complementing a person's looks when they have lost weight is fraught. You don't know whether they lost weight on purpose (in this case, it sounded like he hadn't), or even if intentional weight loss is something to celebrate. In my case, I got a LOT of positive feedback when I dropped pounds... but the reason I was doing it was to avoid losing someone's affections. That's not something for which I should have been given a pat on the back. I lost weight to comply with someone else's ideal of feminine beauty. I should have been encouraged to explore why I felt compelled to do that instead of insisting that I be treated with respect regardless of my size.

Furthermore, complementing someone on their weight loss implies that they look better now than they did before. This is problematic on several accounts. One is that, if they are like 95% of people who intentionally lose a great deal of weight, their body will fight to put that weight back on... and it will. So when they return to a larger size, they're left with the ghosts of complements past, and they know that they're being judged as having let themselves go or some other such nonsense.

Another problem is that there are often (and there were in this case) people in the vicinity who weigh in the ballpark of that person's "before." You're basically telling them that they'd be better and more attractive if they could just get it together and drop some poundage. That's thoughtless, and it's rude.

The fact is that thinner people do not objectively look "better" than bigger people. We've learned as a culture to value thinness, but one way to help fix this is to intentionally expose ourselves to a variety of body sizes. It's difficult to do that with mainstream media, because most people on television and in magazines are still extremely small. But a great thing about TikTok and Instagram and YouTube is that you can find bodies that are differently-sized, have different levels of physical ability, and whose gender expressions vary from the pretty narrow spectrum commonly seen in content generated primarily for commercial success.

It seems silly that we have to remind ourselves that fat people aren't failed thin people (thanks, Virgie Tovar), and that there are fat folks living great lives everywhere all of the time. When someone loses weight, it's just that: weight loss. It's not good. It's not bad. It just is. Same as when someone gains weight: not good, not bad... just reality.

If we could find our way to this understanding, life would be so much better for all of us.

And next time, I'm going to say something in that moment. I've really had enough.

Healing Relationships with Food and Body is a LONG ROAD

"Someone is getting that 'lean arm' look."

I remember it so clearly. We were sitting in a restaurant and this person commented on the appearance of my upper arms. Months before, he had made it clear that he was not pleased with my body size and shape, and this had sent me on yet another journey of food restriction and forced exercise that I didn't enjoy in order to maintain a body type that is not natural for me. I did it, and it lasted for the better part of a decade.

But even though it was so long ago, I remember the relief and pride I felt when he acknowledged my lean arms. I wasn't really proud that I'd worked so hard or accomplished a goal; I was just proud that someone, the person I was trying most to keep from despising me for being myself, saw something attractive and worthy in me.

It's been a long time since I started intentionally trying to heal my broken relationship with my body, with food, and with movement. The food stuff was the easiest. I just told myself that I was going to eat what I wanted, when I wanted, and not feel guilty. It was actually easy not to berate myself when I went to bed. Not to think, "I screwed up today, but tomorrow, I'll do better." I genuinely extricated myself from those thoughts within a few weeks. Don't miss 'em.

Joyful movement was interesting. I stopped doing that work-out I hated slowly at first, when we moved into the RV and my jumping jacks bothered D (small space, lots of noise and movement). It ended altogether when I realized that my spinal injury was genuine and not just soreness. In fact, I likely worsened it by continuing to push through my work-out (which included sit-ups and lie-down leg lifts) even as I lay in the floor crying from the pain.

When we moved into the Nuthaus near downtown and the UT campus, I realized that riding my bike actually took some pressure off of my back. It felt good. Plus, in many ways it was easier to ride my bike to places like Whole Foods and Wheatsville Coop than to try to drive in the car. After my back got better, I rode a lot. For fun. It was a cool way to see downtown and to experience the new (then) boardwalk at Ladybird Lake.

Then we moved to the apartments, which was all hills all the time. There were a couple of rides I'd take Mal on, like to the mailbox, to a trail in a neighborhood behind us, and then just around the complex a few times. It was difficult because of the hills and the baby and the fact that my bike needed some chain maintenance that I didn't know how to do. Then the bike got stolen.

I genuinely LOVE riding my bike. But I've found, where we live now, walking is a great way to see things and meet neighbors. When we first moved in, we walked to the lake almost every day, and at least every other day for months. That has been scaled back to once or twice a week now, but we still love going down there. We walk around the neighborhood to see how new houses are doing, or to admire older houses' yard decor and things like that. There is a bass-shaped mailbox (we live near the lake, remember?) a ways away from our house that Mal has a love/fear relationship with. I know when he wants to see it that we're going to get in a couple of miles.

Sometimes I walk by myself. I usually cover more ground and see more things then, but I definitely get more of a work-out when Mal comes with me. He has enough energy to power a small sun, but he HATES walking. So when he's amenable to go, I push him. He outgrew the umbrella stroller I have that holds 50 pounds (which is right where he is, but he's so tall), so we got a push/pull wagon and he loves it. It weighs 30 pounds, so even though it rolls beautifully for now, it's still a lot of weight I'm pushing up the gamboling roads leading away from the lake. If we walk TO the lake, there's a serious hill to tackle on the way back.

Although he has ridden like this a couple of times, he prefers the sun shade because, he says, "I like to look at purple."

I do love getting out and walking. I loved bike-riding, too. If we had a bunch of "extra" money, I can see getting a good bike and getting Mal a good bike and one of those "trail gators" I had when D was little so I could tow the smaller bike behind me.

The other thing I've genuinely loved, in terms of exercise, was Zumba classes. But I'm no longer willing to pay for a gym membership, plus... I don't know if you've heard, but this kid up there takes a LOT of time and effort. (TFW you realize your first kid was easy, but you didn't know it at the time.)

Anyway, those two things - food and movement - were fairly simple to straighten out. The body thing has been more challenging. And I mention this all because, a full five years after I made the definite decision that I was finished dieting and hating myself and trying to change my body through intrusive means that I did not enjoy, when I was putting my hair in a bun to go swimming yesterday, I noticed the bulk in my upper arms. And I flashed back to that approving statement: "Someone is getting that 'lean arm' look."

When I look back on pictures of me from about ten years ago, I am rather shocked at how unsubstantial I appear. Did I have boobs at all? Hard to tell. I was so tiny (but never felt tiny). I do not wish to go back to that body again. But, ironically, why is it so hard to see pictures of myself now? I firmly believe that the answer to that is internalized fatphobia.

When I'm just sitting around and hanging out with my family, I don't think about my body. It moves how I want it to move and when I want it to move. It is strong. I am doing housework and playing hide-and-seek and getting down in the floor and moving around all day long.

But I know my body is changing. Not just from my changing exercise habits (like my upper leg strength declined after my bike got stolen), but also from age. I recently listened to an episode of the "Food Psyche" podcast featuring Erica Leon, who is a dietician/nutritionist who works primarily with middle-aged women.

She said, "[T]here’s this period of time from, they say the perimenopause, which is the period of time prior to menopause, three to five years, I think it's even longer. Where bodies start to change, because hormone levels start to shift, just like in adolescence. Estrogen levels, and progesterone levels, they drop, they change, they shift. And so what happens during the period of time is that, periods become abnormal, they become longer, shorter, heavier. And in addition to that, people gain weight around the middle. It happens, like in puberty. I call menopause the second puberty. And, I think people aren’t really aware of that. All of a sudden, it’s like, 'Oh my God. My pants are getting tight. Why is that happening?' It's happening, people don’t hear that this is very normal and natural, and the period of time prior to menopause... [B]odies are changing. And things are happening in the body that we’re not necessarily aware of. Because, when hormone levels shift, there are some issues that occur, because estrogen is a very protective hormone. It keeps us [supple], it keeps our bones strong, it keeps our heart strong. And as our levels shift and lower, we start to have things like, more brittle bones, and really we’re in need of more calcium, and more vitamin D. Things happen with our heart. And I'll say on a personal note, I’ve never ever had a health issue, and all of a sudden, I have elevated cholesterol. And, it's because estrogen is protective, and, helps to keep the heart pumping, strong, and then when our levels are reduced, these things, all of a sudden, are concerns. So things like heart health, bone health... [P]robably the most distressing symptom of all, of menopause, is the weight gain. And it is normal, it is natural. It happens because estrogen levels drop. And, as Margo Maine talks about, it is the life preserver. Which I love, rather than a 'spare tire,' because, hey, we get a spare tire around the middle. But it is protective. When the ovaries stop producing as much estrogen, the body looks for other sources. And the idea of having estrogen is that it helps, it's cardio protective, it protects our bones... And so the body does everything to defend that. People have come to me and said, 'Oh my God, I can’t lose weight like I did when I was younger.' It's like, 'Yeah, you’re not supposed to.'"

Anyway, there's the part in my head that I know to be true: My life is constantly changing. My body is changing (and it's perfectly normal and to be expected). I'm taking care of myself the best that I can. I am happy. My family loves me.

Then there is still that nagging, "Um, that's what I look like?" when I see candid pictures of me. I think a lot of people feel that way. And it really irritates me that society did such a good job of pouring into me that I need to have an appearance that fits into an extremely narrow range in order to be "attractive" or worthy of love or self-esteem. I blame it on society because I always thought I was cool when I was a little kid. I liked me. I learned from others to hate my body and, therefore, myself.

That's the part of this journey that is still the most difficult from which to extricate myself.

So...

If you're lucky like I am and you get to go swimming this weekend, be gentle with yourself.

And while you're at it, maybe watch the words you say to other people. You might think, "You look great! Have you lost weight?" is a compliment, but it feeds into a very destructive world view that is detrimental and that really holds on to the heart and soul of a person.

Take care of yourself.

Chins for the Win

How many chins do you have?
How much time do you spend
Thinking
About chins?
Or folds?
Angles?
Bulges?
Or how your ankles look in flats?
And whether they're cankles?
Do you avoid photos?
Do you gaze wistfully at old shots?
Do you wish you hadn't been so critical?
Taken it for granted?
How much more were you worth
When your waist was two inches smaller?
Or ten? Or twenty-five?
Were you more valuable then?
Will you be more valuable for attaining a
Smaller frame
In the future?
Is this the measure of a person:
Inversely proportional to their mass?
It seems silly, put like that,
Doesn't it?
It's not silly.
It's harmful.
Shameful.
Depressing.
Dangerous.
If you disassociate
Your chins
Your moon face
Your belly
Your thighs.
If you see chunks of yourself
As not yourself
But defects attached to your body
You will never
Stop objectifying bodies.
Not just your own.
And everyone loses.
So do the hard work
Not the work-outs, necessarily;
The dismantling.
Of fat-phobia.
Of an ideal rooted in white supremacy
And patriarchy.
Of a self-loathing
That keeps you focused
On yourself.
Free yourself
So you can seek justice for all bodies.
We're all worth more than this.

Some Things Never Change

As we've mentioned ad infinitum in the past, I have a history of weight fluctuations, AKA yo-yo dieting, though the peaks and valleys have been so spaced out, it didn't feel so much like a yo-yo as a sloth climbing several mountains.

To review, here are some pictures from various times in my adult life, in chronological order:

1992, about my "normal" size.

After that, my first ex-husband indicated that I was fat and he'd never liked it but didn't say anything because he thought I wouldn't marry him (sadly, he was mistaken; my self-esteem wouldn't have let me walk away).

1993/1994

June 2001, a few months before D was born.

November 2002, just before my second ex-husband told me I was too fat.

November 2004, after I'd lost some weight and put some more weight back on.

October 2005, after I'd lost a lot more weight.

Basically, it's been about 15 years since the last time I seriously tried to lose weight. It "worked" and I kept the weight off for about 7ish years? But once I got bored with constantly working out (more and more as my metabolism slowed) and "being careful" with what I ate (read: bordering disordered eating behavior), weight started creeping back on. 

Here's what I look like now.

Well, in December 2019

Okay, that was fun. So what?

So, there are a lot of things people assume about health and weight that are garbage. I wanted first to demonstrate that I understand the concept of "calories in/calories out," working out, etc. blah blah blah. And I wanted to tell you several things that have been true whether I weighed 148 pounds (at 5'7") or... a lot more than that. I have basically not had scales for the past 15 years, and so except for when I've been pregnant, I've been blissfully unaware.

Anyway, no matter what I have weighed:

1) I drink copious amounts of diet soda. My mom made me a Diet Coke cake for my 16th birthday, so we can safely assume my passion goes back at least 31 years. #consistency

2) My blood pressure is low. I'm 47 years old, and a big person, and when I was discharged from the E/R a couple of weeks ago, my blood pressure was 106/68. It's usually around 112/70ish.

3) I love sweets. You can eat a lot of candy corn on a 1500-calorie-per-day diet, and it's fat free! (This is not health advice; I feel a little nauseated thinking about it, actually.)

4) I hate running.

5) I can walk from sun-up until sun-down. Very enjoyable. A 12-mile Disney day? Bring it on!

6) I eat a mostly vegetarian diet.

7) My body does what I want it to do.

8) I despise clothes-shopping.

9) I am worth the same amount. I wasn't worth more when I had less mass nor am I worth less with more mass. This is a ridiculous calculus that serves no one.

10) My actual "health" level has remained the same. When I was at my smallest, I was no "healthier" in terms of eating or exercise than I am at my largest. I can say this because I know what food goes into my gullet. When I was depriving myself of calories and fat, I made up for it by making those few calories things I'd LOVE, which wasn't always nutrient-rich, minimally-processed food. I eat more now, and that gives me room to eat nutritious food I love as well as things like pizza and ice cream. It isn't either/or. In that battle, I'm going to pick what I prefer to have every time... even if I look totes skinny doing it. You cannot tell what my personal habits are just by looking at how thick my upper arms might be. To think that you can is fatphobic.

11) I have asthma. I had asthma when I was running 5 miles a day (and, yeah, HATING every minute of it). Against all odds, I have asthma with a house full of cats, to which I am allergic. It's ponderous.

12) I eat carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. When I was at my skinniest, just after college, and DURING an actual eating/exercise disorder, I ate Little Caesar's Crazy Bread at least three days a week. I still love those things, though they're not quite the dietary staple they used to be.

13) I love cooking good, beautiful food. Let's end with that, and a few pictures of our home dinners. 

Roasted cauliflower risotto with a side salad.

Goat cheese veggie burger with arugula and cranberry sauce, side of roasted green beans.

Salad with broiled brie and roasted cauliflower.

Veggie "chicken" broccoli homemade hot pocket and feta salad.

Peanut stir fry.

The Ravages of Time

In the past three years, I've changed. Physically. Like a lot.

I stopped restricting and doing exercise I didn't like years ago. Then I had another kid. And I breast-fed. A long time. I thought once I finished that maybe my, uh, chestral regions would go back to "normal" size, but they didn't. They didn't stay the same size, either. They got bigger! When I see pictures of myself from even just two years ago, the first thing I think is, "My boobs were so small!" So that's one thing.

But my face, too. I think it's a combination of weight set point being higher and my face finally catching up, and, honestly, age. I feel like my face is showing my age more now than it did a couple of years ago. For one, my features used to look like they took up a lot more of my face, and now they don't. It's kind of odd.

So when I see older pictures of me, I know it's me, but it almost looks like looking at a different person.

And, whereas before, I definitely would have pined over how "skinny" I looked in some shots, now I'm frankly alarmed at how much less room I was taking up.

I'm learning to view photos as memories frozen in time and to find the nostalgia in the moments they record, separating my ego from the process as much as possible.

It's definitely a process.

Once, after I'd lost a bunch of weight, we had family Christmas pictures taken. I'd agonized over what to wear, in the end choosing a black boxy sweater that was cute but not form-fitting in the least. When we got the proofs back, I kind of humble-bragged the truth to my ex-husband that I had thought about wearing something more body-conscious but went with something that would draw less attention to my "transformation." Unimpressed, he deadpanned, "No one's going to look at you in these pictures. They're going to look at our beautiful child." I mean, it hurt, but he wasn't wrong.

The biggest thing that I keep coming back to when I experience momentary surprise at how I appear in more candid pictures is to remember, "This is exactly what everyone else sees every dang day." I only see myself in front of the mirror or when having a posed picture taken (unless the front-facing camera accidentally comes on, then look out!!). So the mental image I have of myself is quite controlled. Everyone else sees me sitting, stretching out, double chinning it, etc. and so pictures of me aren't shocking to them... if they're even really looking at me. And they probably aren't.

I don't mind getting older. I don't mind looking older. I don't harbor fantasies that I can still pass as a co-ed. So it's fine.

I have a friend who was invited to a reunion recently, and she told me, "If I were skinny, I'd go. I could show them how fabulous and successful I am." I love her, and she IS fabulous and successful. And if she wanted to go, I wish she'd go.

I don't want her to be captive to presenting a certain body type in order to be pleasing to a critical eye (in this case, her own, but she's projecting on former co-workers), and I certainly refuse to be. If anyone has a problem with this, then I'm going to leave you with the wise words of one Ms. Edna Turnblad:

I knew it was just a matter of time...

More on my trip with Mal soon, because there were some doozies I want to remember, but I have to denote this most special of occasions.

Ever since the last time I got pregnant at what the medical community at large  (but never, ever my awesome team of midwives at Birthwise) would call "an advanced maternal age," I've known it was coming.

And it finally happened last night:

"Is that your grandbaby?"

I expected it to be more cutting than it was. Frankly, it was anti-climactic.

Part of this might be because the lady who asked me this both called Mal a girl repeatedly, after he corrected her, and then requested a ride to a bar down the street. From McDonald's. At 8:45 on a Sunday. Bless her.

But I think that most of it was because of the work I've been doing on accepting and loving my body (and all bodies). While what I've wrestled with most has been internalized fatphobia, I feel like really examining and deconstructing biases I've been taught my whole life has helped with everything, this included.

To be "offended" by being mistaken for my child's grandparent, I think I'd have to have more stock in pride of visibly defying my age, or shame in maturing. I have neither.

Actually, a few hours before that, I'd been telling James about an article I read on the thin privilege of "small fats," or what Roxane Gay calls, "Lane Bryant fat." I told him that in addition to the "privilege" I experience of not having to worry whether I'll fit into a restaurant seat, or have to buy two airline tickets, or be told by a doctor when I go in with pain in my breast and I should lose weight and I'll feel better, I also seem to have reached a milestone that many women meet with mourning, but I find exhilarating:

Largely because of my age, I'm "invisible."

When I was young, I was on the receiving end of much overt disgust (*shudder* "You're so fat!") and impertinent assumptions (the first time I was asked if I was pregnant, I was 16) very often. There's a trauma that comes with stigma in which someone isn't victimized only by overt actions; they are hurt over and over just by the anxiety they live with in anticipating the next unwanted negative interaction.

What I'm describing as my personal experience pales in comparison to the things that other minorities and "super fats" endure every day, but it was still a big part of my younger life.

It isn't anymore.

And the reason I believe it is not is that I have reached an age where it isn't seen as my civic duty to be attractive to the male eye anymore. And so I'm "invisible," but, to me, in the best possible way. I am not on the receiving end of objective scrutiny and catcalls. I know men are being kind when they hold a door open, because they don't have ulterior motives. Some women hate that; I think it's an incredibly comfortable place to have landed.

So, being mistaken for a grandma when I'm not wasn't a blow. I wasn't taken for being any "older" than I am; my sister, who is younger than I am, is a grandmother.

Actually, there's an important lesson there: You cannot tell how two people are related by looking at them. I should never make assumptions.

There we have it: The first, and likely not the last, time I was presumed to be the grandma. Very often, when I go to bed at night, I certainly feel as tired as a grandma after a grandkid has visited all day! So it's kind of accurate.

Ol' Granny and Mal, Jr.

Happy Birthday to Me!

All right, fine. If you're keeping track, it's still more than two months until my birthday.

But James already got my present for me, even though I still have to wait a few weeks for it.

Something hit me the other day: I cannot remember the last time I went to bed feeling cruddy and thinking, "Well, I ate like a garbage person today. I'll do better tomorrow."

If you've never done this, then I don't know how to explain the feelings of shame, failure fatigue, and physical illness that accompany that little bit of self-demoralizing.

There have been many times in my life when I've tried, with varying levels of success, to appreciate my body in its natural form (i.e. when not being manipulated by food restriction and exercise for the sole purpose of body-taming), with varying success.

I remember when I was training for the LVMPD entry test, I was able to run 5 miles and felt like a total bad ass. When I was weighed as part of the physical, I was surprised to see 195. That was up significantly from my lowest weight, due to a years-long eating disorder, when I spent some time at about 148 pounds.

Incidentally, the GNC scale still told me I was 7 pounds overweight here, so while I felt pretty okay about how I looked, the numbers taunted me.

However, a few years later, I was nearly 50 pounds heavier and significantly more healthy. And I didn't feel much self-consciousness about how I looked.

Still, what I didn't realize was that Diet Culture was pervasive in my thought processes and self-esteem.

I had so many "rules" about how I ate, even while giving myself permission, kind of, to eat as I pleased. I still saw foods as "naughty" indulgences or "healthy" choices. If I did too much of the former, I felt really bad.

Even after James and I got married and I was looking in the rear-view mirror of those miserable forced workouts (even while loving riding my bike challenging places, walking all over, dancing, etc.), I would still often look back on my day with a sense of backward-facing dread, and feel ill at the thought of the "bad" food I'd put in my body.

Or I'd remember that I'd forgotten I'd had a snack and then still eaten as much as dinner as I would have if I'd not eaten a snack. And I'd be frustrated with myself.

So, that's a long way of saying: I don't do that anymore. At some point in this work I'm doing to listen to my body, to move as I please, and to eat as I will without any of this becoming an energy-draining focus from my very full life, I've managed to throw off the go-to guilt that has gone hand-in-hand with food choices for as long as I can remember.

I no longer linger over glances at myself in mirrors or storefront windows as I walk past. I don't feel self-conscious about what other people looking at me might think. I buy and wear clothes that I enjoy, that allow me to move, and that I don't have to think about, regardless of the "rules" of what might or might not be "flattering."

There is, however, one area in which I still struggle: Pictures.

I LOVE pictures. I often hand my camera to James (and cringe, because, frankly, for as brilliant as that man is, he cannot take a dang photograph... and now that I think about it, it might have to do with how overstimulated he gets in loud/busy situations in that he cannot filter out superfluous information, and that's exactly what his pictures look like) or someone else and ask them to get a picture of me doing whatever we're doing, because I tend to be the recorder of memories.

However, my tendency still is to be hyper-critical of snaps of me, because... I guess I'm seeing myself from someone else's angle, and I'm not used to it, so it reveals things about me I don't see in the mirror, even though my son has fully mirrored closet doors, and we're in his floor about 10 hours a day, so I've likely glanced at myself at almost every possible angle in the past year and a half.

I'll give you an example from a couple of years ago. My friend Jana, of Jana Gross Photography, had brought her girls to our apartment to swim. She snapped this candid shot of Mal and me.

This picture is pure joy. But at first blush, my reaction to it was, "Holy crap, that arm! Those bulges! Ugh!" I had to look away from myself because I couldn't take it (it was a couple of months after this that I did my last-ditch effort to drop a few pounds, and after calorie-restricting for two months, decided I'd rather try to be happy than thinner). In the past, I'd delete pictures of myself that I did not like but knew, absolutely, that some day I would adore this picture and the moment in time that it captures with such buoyant energy.

(Incidentally, this kind of "documentary photography" is Jana's milieu, so if you need pictures that are absolutely YOU and not the same poses that are trending with every other photographer on earth, you should absolutely book her.)

And now we get to James's birthday present for me! He purchased admission to Virgie Tovar's Babecamp, It's a four-week online course to learn how to have a peaceful relationship with your body, first by examining how we got to where we are now, and then by working on tools for self-love.

If this sounds horribly self-indulgent to you, especially given that there is so much real trouble on earth, then let me assure you that dissatisfaction with my body has been an incredibly time-. energy-, money-, and talent-consuming function of my life for as long as I can remember. Ridding myself of its last vestiges frees me up to be fully present for the people and causes that mean most to me.

As an ancient example: When D was smaller, we had an absolute bedtime of 7:00 PM (which is funny; Mal just finally conked out at 11 tonight). D could read or play in bed, but had to stay there. There were countless times D would call down the hall with a random question, clearly just wanting to chat, desiring company. And I'd yell back to "go to sleep!" Because I "needed" to work out. Not because I enjoyed it. Not because the exercise brought me peace and life. Because I did not want to be as fat as I'd been in the past.

Time and time again, I chose attempting to alter the natural size of my body over building a relationship with my older child.

I'm not ever going to do that again.

Babecamp will end about a month before we go on our family vacation. I look forward to taking, and being in, a ton of pictures. Without obsessing over myself in any of them.

And many more.

Stupid Things I Did to Change My Body, Entry 2

From January 1993 until Octoberish 1996, except for one cheat day a week, I only allowed myself to consume 7 grams of fat (with no differentiation between types of fat; this is just any fat, period) per day.

To put that in context, the general recommendation for daily intake of fat for an adult is 70 grams. I was eating 1/10 of the daily recommended intake of fat, back when fat was super demonized, and no one was talking about how important adequate fat consumption was.

To my black and white brain, fat=bad and no fat=great.

Obviously, I wasn't eating any meat. Or eggs. Or peanut butter. Or nuts. Or omega-3-rich fish. Or avocados. I was eating candy corn. Jelly beans. Fat free bread with fat free "butter" and fruit spread. I could have chosen fruits and vegetables, but usually didn't. I felt so deprived from food I loved (pizza, French fries, anything robust and hearty) that I ate for comfort and for what a food DIDN'T have (fat) instead of what it DID have (any nutritive quality whatsoever).

Oh, and I was instinctively doing what I learned manufacturers do when they remove "excess" fat from a food product: Add sugar to make it more palatable. I was eating a LOT of sugar (no more than 1500 calories a day, but we'll get to that in another post) to make up for the fact that was I was eating was empty garbage and mostly tasted that way.

Why do our bodies need fat? It helps up absorb many vitamins, including A, D, E, and K. Fats also help the brain to produce serotonin and dopamine. In fact, extremely low fat diets have been shown to contribute to suicidal tendencies, but even without being that serious, a fat deficiency can contribute to anxiety and low self-esteem... Which might explain why I still felt like a big fat failure at 148 pounds (5'8") because the scale at GNC still considered my skinny butt 8 pounds overweight.

In addition to the sugar I was eating to make up for a more well-rounded fat profile, there's an item that really bothers me about our "food as fuel" or, worse, "food as medicine" mentality pervasive in diet culture. It says that as long as we meet the micro- and macro-nutrient goals for our weight and exercise levels, we're "healthy." This completely discounts our mental and emotional health. There are demonstrably food that makes us FEEL better, and a reason they're called "comfort foods."

"Comfort foods" need to be un-demonized. Meeting our emotional needs is every bit as important as making sure our nutritional needs are met. And I was just in an endless cycle of deprivation, totally ignoring my desire to eat something satisfying because I believed that all of the "sacrifice" would yield a look that would make me... more worthy? More admired? More desired? A more virtuous appearance?

Ugh. It was dumb and unhealthy. No more. Never again.

Stupid Things I Did to Change My Body, Entry 1

Laura Hattaway
Monday, May 14, 2012 at 12:25pm CDT
Last night, I bought these vouchers for laser lipo, so we'll see what that is.  Whether it works or not, it's an experience.

James Ashley
Monday, May 14, 2012 at 12:27pm CDT
Sometimes, just having an experience is a victory.

Laura Hattaway
Monday, May 14, 2012 at 12:27pm CDT
Right.

In March 2012, I had been living in an RV for just under a year. I was working 3.5 days a week, bringing in about $9000 a year. Child support paid for D's gymnastics. I could mostly cover rent and utilities. But I was taking about $100-300 a month out of the savings from having sold our house in order to cover expenses like groceries and entertainment.

Yet I had spent close to $500 on what was billed as 80 percent off of three or four treatments of this thing where they focus lasers on "problem areas" of your body and in 15 minutes, it's supposed to break down adipose tissue that will then be absorbed by your body and flushed out.

I KNOW HOW STUPID THIS SOUNDS.

It even sounded stupid then. Not to mention that I did not have the funds to spend on this kind of thing. But I was trying so hard to make a relationship "take" and all I knew was that other men responded well to my having a smaller body that was shaped a specific way, and figured this couldn't hurt my chances with this other guy.

I was so embarrassed about the whole thing that I never told anyone. Except for James.

Not even my sister, whose house I would visit so D could stay with them while I went in for the treatment. I think I told them I was doing a series of mystery shops. Because, what the heck was I doing?

Incidentally, this guy and I were not a good match, and we both dodged bullets in our not being able to make things work. We were both in the same situation, having been soundly rejected by the people who had vowed to love us for our entire lives, and when you live in that for years, someone being nice to you who is also fun to be around feels like The Answer. It was not.

And this was not.

But I believed then, as much as I would have told you that I did not, that if I were just a little smaller, I'd be more worthy of love. Now I know better. And I still wish I had that money (and those hours) back.

The Trip and Other Miscellany (pics and videos and fun)

There is a lot about which I want to blog (like our experience with Wacom and the Better Business Bureau, and Lenny and Larry's products, and even Reese's Pieces Peanut Butter Cups, among other things), but, dang it, I just don't have the time.

So here's the stuff I really want to remember. Hopefully. I actually kept jotting down stuff so I'd remember, but it's on my phone and my phone is in the other room, and I'm really tired and it's getting late, hence we're going to try to wing this.

This time a week ago, we were in Dallas at the amazing NYLO South Dallas hotel. We decided to try the State Fair of Texas for the first time in 3 years. Two years ago, I was just having a baby as it opened, so it was out. Then last year... well, our kid has been slow to acclimate to travel. But this visit was perfect!

We left at about 9:30 in the morning in order to miss Austin traffic, and stopped at the beautiful Bell County Safety Stop, where Mal played on the playground for a good half hour or so.

Then we headed further north to the Dr. Pepper Museum in Waco, then we stopped in at the Collin Street Bakery for lunch. Mal slept the rest of the way to Dallas, and really enjoyed our cool loft-style room at NYLO.

The next morning, we hit the State Fair of Texas for three hours, enjoying an array of fried foods and somehow sitting in pudding after this picture was taken. Well, that was just me. But still.

From the fair, we drove further north to my parents' house where we stayed for two nights. We got to go to their HOA's fall festival, D got to take a day off from peopling, and it was nice and relaxing. Mal went to bed quite a bit earlier than usual, even having taken a mammoth nap on Saturday afternoon.

After church on Sunday, we drove back as far as Waco. Mal slept again, from the moment we got onto the highway until about 45 seconds before we exited to get to our hotel. It was great! Unfortunately, that gave him LOADS of energy, which he did not use up thusly. It threw a little wrench into our dinner, but we really liked staying at the Homewood Suites, and James didn't mind eating his to-go steak in the room (I got to finish mine in the restaurant for once; James took Mal out when he started going berserk).

Monday morning, we visited half of the Cameron Park Zoo before coming home. It was great! I'd go back again to see the rest of it (we had mobility and energy issues, plus it was getting HOT).

We spent the second half of Monday doing the post-vacation catch-up, but it wasn't too bad since we'd gotten to do laundry at my parents' house.

Definitely the best travel we've experienced since the birth of this sweet boy, and probably one of the better trips Team Dave's has had, period (since we've had a pre-teen/teen with anxiety even before the little 'un). We saw so many birds (evidenced above) on the trip that my bird-fond older child was quite pleased.

Now, back to reality: Last night was actually one of the better nights of sleep I've had in a good month. Mal has taken to waking more frequently again, and yesterday morning WORE. ME. OUT. with his very insistent (kicking, hard pulling) nursing for the two hours before we got out of bed. But last night, I actually slept hard enough to dream. Weird, stupid dreams, but still. I like sleeping.

The day before yesterday, Mal did something he's never done before: Asked me to give him a kiss. Actually, he said, "Tiss," and leaned in toward me. So cute!

He has another word in his vernacular, too, and it's one of the clearest words he says: "sugar." One of his nursery rhymes features a boy who eats out of the sugar bowl, so let's never say that the computer didn't teach him something. He says, "Sugar. Eat." A lot. Like 5 times a day. I do let him have a little bit of sugar, too. Because, whatever. It moves him on to other things. Thanks, nursery rhymes.

Today, Mal was at the gym playing when he stopped, pointed up, and said, "Tum-bet." What? "Tum-bet." He was listening to the music... and, yep, there was a trumpet. He also said, "Dum-bone," though I think it was still more trumpet. Still, that's pretty observant. Many times, he will announce that the opening of a song is "la-la," which is how he says "ukulele." Or, "dit-tah," which is "guitar," and is ALWAYS followed by, "Daddy." Yes, Daddy plays the guitar. He'll often insist that Daddy is playing that track, too, and I never correct him. I remember thinking that my dad's job at the news station was to climb the big antenna out front. I don't think anyone ever corrected me, either, and I turned out fine.

Guess what? Mal has a favorite Weird Al song! When D was about his age, maybe a little younger, she requested "Hardware Store." When it gets to the part where the choir echoes "hardware stoooooooore," she'd throw her head back and sing.



(That was some AWESOME fan work, by the by.)

Well, now Mal has his own Weird Al song, and it's this one:




As SOON as it's over, he says, "More!" and is happy for me to replay it. I've stopped after about 4 times, because I really like this song and don't want to get sick of it. (I am listening to it now, since I landed on it to share it with you, though.) I know, his first song will probably be "we're great and you suck" instead of something more wholesome, like "Jesus Loves Me." *sigh*

Mal knows when he's dirtied his diaper, and very often will tell me. Or go get a new diaper. Or just take off his old diaper, leave it in the floor, and walk around until I notice (which, hopefully, is quickly, because... yuck). He does all of the things that kids are "supposed" to do to indicate potty training readiness. But he's not ready.

However, in the past few days, he seems to have honed in on a "potty spot." It's not really convenient, though, because it's outside, at the base of our stairwell. There is a little patch of wildflowers, and he stands there, squats, and holds on to the railing. He's used it three times in the past two days, including once yesterday when he wasn't wearing a diaper (but he WAS wearing shorts... long story).

I guess I should put his training potty out there? Or something? I don't know how to potty train a boy.

Okay, so the long story is this: Yesterday, we walked up to the office to do a couple of things. I briefly thought about taking his diaper changer, but didn't. And, sure enough, once we were up there, I realized he'd soiled the diaper he was wearing. He can go a long time without peeing, though, so I just took him into the bathroom, cleaned him up, and put his shorts on sans diaper.

We stayed at the office until after it closed, playing pool in the 24-hour tenant lounge, hanging out by the pool, and eventually walking back to the apartment. He made it almost a whole hour. Then, you know, the spot. I knew he'd peed. There was a puddle, and when I asked him, "Did you pee?" he cheerfully said, "No." After a few moments, I told him to come inside and we'd get a bath. He walked up the stairs and I started taking his clothes off of him when I realized what had happened. This wasn't one of those nice rabbit turd situations, either. So I left his clothes on the front porch and brought him into the entry way. "DO NOT MOVE!" I instructed him.

As I was coming back from his room with the wipes, he ran across the carpet and jumped up onto the couch. I caught him before he made too much of a mess, but he was not happy with my pulling him off by one leg and one arm. He did love his bubble bath, though.

I keep telling him how much easier this would be if he'd just use the toilet, but I think he likes the drama.

In non-Mal news, my husband hasn't used shampoo since March of this year. I tried the "no poo" experiment and couldn't take it. He tried and it's worked great for him. He said that his hair feels and smells really gross to him on the day he water-cleans it, but I don't notice anything. He's always had a dry scalp and dandruff, and he actually has much, much less of it now.

For me, the whole thing helped me find Angel Wash and Angel Rinse, which I adore. For the first time in years, my hair is actually growing out again. So everything worked out for both of us.

On the weight loss front, I continue to notice small things, in details about my body and in the way clothes fit. I gave myself a free day or two on our trip, but even then didn't go too far over my limit, and with the walking still managed to have a calorie deficit most days.

I guess when I set up my SparkPeople account, I put a goal weight, and because I said I wanted to lose one pound a week, it put me at reaching that goal in late March. Maybe that's when I'll be done? I actually don't think I can maintain the goal weight I chose, but we'll see what happens. I also made up a weight when I started, and because I don't have a scale and don't update, it looks like I've been doing this for two months now with no results. But I see it.

It's tomorrow! I gots to go to bed. I'm going to regret all of this dumb blogging in the morning. Before the sun comes up. But I do it all for love, right? And it's FRIDAY! Happy weekend, friends!

Making Some Fun Out of Misery (First World Problems)

This is truly going to be one of the most boring posts ever, about a topic I hate, but I did want to note some kind of fun stuff just by way of saying "I love the future."

If you've been riding along with us for any amount of time, you know that I dabbled in an eating disorder for a few years in the early 1990s. Well, I'm hardly to blame if you consider what "healthy weight loss" looked like back then. That was the "all fat is evil; just eliminate it" decade, and all of the super sugary, gross fakey "fat free" stuff (remember Olsetra poop-your-pants chips? I think Pringles still makes them, but they're the only ones). Entenmann's had a whole line of fat free breakfast snacks. I had a book called "Butter Busters" that had all sorts of crappy food you could make with non-melting cheese look-alike and using a powdered butter substitute that, when reconstituted, didn't resemble butter in flavor at all.

Actually, though, I *am* to blame for a lot of the choices I made. I lived in an apartment complex that shared a driveway with a gas station, and I can't tell you how many bags of jelly beans and candy corn I bought there, feeling great about getting to eat sweets... that were FAT FREE!

Anyhoo, all of that to say that today, there are so many products on the market that are trying to punch up treats to make them more healthy, while still tasting good and not sacrificing a real-food quality for managing to shovel candy and baked goods into people desperate for a fix.

Now, obviously, I eat mostly "real" food: fruits, vegetables, lean meats, beans and lentils, that sort of thing. I also make room for pizza and french fries. And butter. I actually feel GOOD about butter now. I love it so.

I'm not actually on any kind of eating system that restricts anything. I'm just doing the "you burn 1800ish calories a day, so only eat 1550 or less" thing and keeping track. And I hate it. I mean, I'm not as hungry as I was the first three weeks, but I hate that I have to think about this at all. I have a very thin line I can walk between obsessing over it and just not thinking about it at all. It's a balance I resent having to keep so stringently, because, honestly, I almost couldn't care less. Except for those darn pictures.

And this weekend, I got a little encouragement. We had a party for Mal's second birthday, and I wandered into a bunch of pictures and videos. I didn't cringe about any of them. So I know I'm on the right track. I'll know when I'm done and can switch over into the maintenance portion of life, but by then, I'll probably be about in the 1500 calorie range for my basic metabolic rate. Yee haw.

All of this because I wanted to share some fun discoveries I've made. And, to be indelicate, if we didn't have a bit of disposable income, these "toys" would not be in reach. This might be the case once we buy a house, so I'm going to really enjoy this stuff. And stock up when there are sales.

1. Arctic Zero. Okay, I probably won't stock upon these, because freezer burn is no one's friend. Neither is moving frozen items to another residence. However, these are ice-cream-ish pints that have 35-75 calories per "serving," or 150-300 calories per pint (a real serving).

These are lactose-free, being made with whey protein and not the whole milk. They have pure cane sugar, but are sweetened also with monk fruit, which allegedly has antioxidants. Anyway, I'm no nutritionist, but the ingredients aren't jibberish so that feels right.

These have to be left at room temperature for 15 minutes or so or they're hard as a rock. Once they soften, though, they have the very creamy feel of ice cream. No chunky flakes. It's not as rich as ice cream, but it is pleasurable to eat, and the amount of time you spend putting away a whole pint makes it feel like you've really eaten something.

I had three of these, one a day for three days in a row, and I enjoyed them all: cookie shake, chocolate peanut butter, and salted caramel. The flavors were extremely subtle. I realized when I ate a fourth pint a few days later (vanilla maple) that there is a consistent taste that runs through all of them that I can't identify, but it made me decide that these are probably best saved as a treat to have every couple of weeks... Not to mention that they run about $5 a pint, so that can get expensive fast.

You can order from their website, but because they have to be shipped with dry ice, it brings the price per pint up to $6.50. Find them at Central Market, Whole Foods, HEB, Sprouts, and anywhere you're directed from their website.

I see that they have chocolate-covered bars. That's very interesting to me, so I will probably head over to Sprouts on Wednesday (which is their "both sales circulars" day).

2. Lenny and Larry's Complete Cookie Especially if you're someone who likes to have Pop-Tarts for breakfast, pay attention!

These big honking cookies have about the same caloric content of 2 Pop Tarts (400ish), but a whole cookie (which is 2 "servings," but let's get real) has 16 grams of protein, or four times what you'd get with Pop Tarts, so you'll feel full longer and have more sustained energy versus just a sugar rush.

Now I'm going to tell you something I noticed AFTER I'd eaten one of these cookies: They're stinking vegan. VEGAN. No dairy. No eggs. But the cookies are soft and homey-tasting. How did they do it?! I don't know. I'm just glad I didn't realize that until after I'd eaten one, because I might not have tried. Well, I might have. I'm a sucker for packaging, and look how fun these are.

Oh, also, the cookies are non-GMO (if that's important to you; I'm kind of meh about the whole thing), they have no soy, and they have about 8 grams of fiber per cookie.

I'll clear room for a pretty big afternoon snack for one of these. Especially since my husband doesn't get home from work until 8 or later some nights; I need help waiting for him to eat dinner!

You can order on their website, where the cookies average just over $2 each. That's about what they are in the store, except that right this moment, the HEB on Escarpment and Slaughter in Austin happens to have them on display up front for $1.50. I haven't seen their muscle brownies or muffins, but I'm going to order those for sure.

(While researching this, I found this recipe, which I plan to try. If I see I can make these more cheaply than I can buy them and they taste as good. Plus, apparently, they're BIGGER. Hello!)

3. GoPicnic "meals"

I've mentioned these before. They're like Lunchables, kind of, except they're shelf-stable (nonperishable, no need for refrigeration) and many are gluten free (I think all of the ones in the picture are) or lower fat, etc. They are "balanced" in that there is a good amount of protein, and they manage to sneak fruits and/or veggies into every meal. The chocolate chip cookies are vegan. The nut and seed mixes are simple but creatively-seasoned. There is a peanut butter and crackers box, and also a sunflower seed butter and cracker box, just in case you have peanut issues. The plantain chips with either black bean dip or the edamame kale dip are my favorites, by far. The ones that come with an applesauce cup even have a little spoon, and if the cheese is runny, it comes with a wooden spreader.

The GoPicnic site sells the meals cheaper than you can get them in the stores, if you buy a few at a time (and, actually, I was introduced to them because Target had a few on clearance, so I was willing to part with $1.45 for one, even if I might not have spent $3). If you sign up for their emails, you get notified of specials and sales, plus you get coupon codes. I've never spent full price on anything I've ordered from them. The meals range from about 270 calories to 490 calories, and the fact that they're portion-controlled makes it easy to keep track. Most of them are in SparkPeople, so I just scan the UPC code and it's all done.

They also sell ten-packs of things like their bean dip (either three-bean or the black bean, but, unfortunately, not yet on the edamame and kale), flatbread crackers, fruit snacks, and trail mixes. They have other snacks that they seem to be adding fairly frequently, too.

4. Bell Plantation PB2 I'm going to tell you the truth: I bought this on a whim about a year ago when I saw it at Walmart and asked on social media, "What's the deal?" Many people swore by it. I really didn't find much to do with it besides adding it to banana "ice cream" (which I still do... it's fabulous). It seemed like the same kind of thing as protein powder, which is fine, but I don't use a lot.

More recently, however, I've started "reconstituting" it (2 tablespoons of powder, 1 tablespoon of water) and using it... as peanut butter! I've had it on toast, on PB&Js, and with sliced fruit and crackers. You know what? It's actually good. I typically get the chocolate one, of course. And before this, the only "low-fat peanut butter" product I'd had experience with was Walden Farm's, and it's just sad.

You know what I just realized? I'm seriously like a child. I need fun food or I get bored. If I can't do constant doughnuts and pizza (sad face), then I need stuff that's going to be as pleasurable to eat. And, yes, I do like eating fruits and vegetables -- most favorites are butternut squash, sweet potatoes, broccoli slaw, and spinach (those last two, I will eat to the point of digestive issues). But I have a very persistent sweet tooth, and maybe a "fat tooth," if that's a thing. So I'm trying to sate it as healthily as possible.

What about you guys? What do you love?

This and That

We'll see how much of this I can get down... I was trying to be wise and use Mal's nap time well by putting dinner together. Instead, the first thing I did was to open the quinoa poorly, spilling it all over the kitchen floor, requiring a 15-minute sweep job that did not get it all up, but at least means I'm not getting it embedded into the soles of my feet whilst I work.

Oh well. Here goes:

See that kid up there? He just moved into the largest "baby" diapers we can purchase. He's not even two yet. If he outgrows these (they just say "37+ pounds," but I'm sure there's a cutoff somewhere, most likely his legs), we'll have to start forking over the major bucks that diaper-makers seem to think parents of elementary-aged kids who still need them can fork over.  Did I mention that he's still a year old?

Speaking of that, he officially cannot wear anything that's smaller than a 3T anymore. I'm bummed because I bought these very cute 3T shorts from Bert's Bees, but the waists were too big. They have ornamental drawstrings... why not just put ACTUAL drawstrings, dude? Anyway, we tried them on the other day, and the waists are STILL too big, but now the rise is getting too short. So he probably won't ever be able to wear them.

In other (kid) news: D's tablet has been with the manufacturer getting a tune-up for a couple of weeks. In its absence, she's rediscovered a passion she used to have: slime. On her own, she's researched various "recipes," made a list of what she needs, made test batches, and tweaked formulas to achieve the feel she wants, and has generally made a huge mess (but also cleaned up after herself). She said she's not sure of the science behind why what she's doing works, but she's curious. Curious is good. It's fun to see her "playing," and it's been nice to have her hanging out in the common area a little more than usual. Don't worry; we'll try not to get used to it.

James is plugging away at work. He realizes he has a good job, and that's good for all of us. I know if he didn't have a family, he'd be just as happy doing day labor and chilling when he didn't need money. I appreciate him. I love that he has every other Friday off, just wish his commute weren't so unpredictable and generally long, even on good days. We're trying to fix that shortly. (See what I did there?)

As for me, I'm almost three weeks into trying to "re-calibrate" my eating. Over the pregnancy and breastfeeding, I've gotten used to eating whatever, whenever. It seems like Mal's "on" every ten minutes, but I don't know how much he drinks anymore. I know he's still getting some milk, though, because when he had a stomach bug several weeks ago, he didn't eat anything for two or three days but never got dehydrated and had a day of newborn-like breast milk diapers. Anyway, I can tell that I've been starting to put on some weight, and I don't want that. I'm already dealing with the body changes that come postpartum and from entering middle age. So I decided to rein it in.

The thing is, I don't have a scale, so I have no idea what I weigh, and I don't have an iron-clad goal in mind. I just want not to have to look away at candid pictures of myself, and I want my clothes to be comfortable, not ride up or bunch, etc.

SparkPeople has decided that I likely burn about 1800 calories just hanging around being alive and all, so it's tabulated that I can safely ingest about 1550 calories per day. It is extremely likely that this is about half of what I was consuming before, so it hasn't been a gleeful three weeks, I'll tell you that much. But now that I'm starting to get used to it, it's better... even if I've often already eaten dinner by the time James gets home at or around 8 PM.

In the past few days, I've felt like I can start to see a difference. It might just be that I'm not full and bloated all of the time. Who knows. But I'm glad, because I hate hate hate having to think this much about what I eat, spend time inputting it, etc. It needs to be doing some good if I'm going to work on it. It's so boring and stupid. Seriously. I hate it. Necessary evil and all.

Along with that, I changed over from the kid-friendly eMeals program to the portion-controlled one (easier to keep track with all of the nutritional info). They have entrees and side dishes that are typically 500 calories or less. So far. I've loved them all, and so has the family. They get more than one serving, as it makes enough for six people; one's been working for me, though.

Coming up: James is off work Friday. The following weekend is Mal's birthday (!). Less than 2 weeks until the first Presidential Debate, and I want to make it like a Super Bowl party thing up at the clubhouse. No takers so far, but I'll totally do it, anyway. The Round Rock Chalk Walk is in 2.5 weeks; James hasn't been to that before. One month until we go to the State Fair of Texas (gosh, I wish we could make it to the Oklahoma Sugar Arts show the week before that). About 6 weeks until Mal and I go to a big homeschool Halloween party at the Thinkery. Less than 2 months until D turns 15 (!). We're planning to spend Thanksgiving at Port Aransas. Our lease is up in 31 weeks. So we have a lot going on. I love this adventure with my favorite people!