what i'm eating. (the expanded addition). day one.

not long after graduating college a good girlfriend turned me on to a blog: the actor's diet. the whole premise behind the blog was to show in a real way what an actor ate day-by-day. 

what i took away from lynn's blog is that here was a woman who had struggled for years with eating issues and she had moved past disordered eating by...actually eating. and she felt good, felt beautiful, and had a slim, healthy body that she empowered her when walking into auditions. 

i remember looking at her blog all those years ago and thinking, wow, this girl actually eats! she eats quite a bit! in truth, she eats a totally normal amount (but it seemed so much more than the amount i thought i needed to eat to lose weight {1,000 calories, it turns out, doesn't look like so much--mostly because it isn't}).

i always bristle when reading magazines or health articles that say you can lose weight while eating a hamburger, can you believe it?! or a square of chocolate won't undo everything, so go ahead, indulge!!

it is my deep-seated belief that you can lose weight eating anything. all in moderation. yes, stay away from processed foods and choose fruits and veggies when possible, but a hamburger isn't the worst thing in the world. 

the same friend who introduced me to the actor's blog suggested that i do something similar: reveal what i eat as a way of providing some information. 

i've been hesitant because i don't want anyone to look at this and think it's a roadmap. someone else may eat exactly what i eat and have a totally different experience. eating is an experiment. you have to find what works for you. and that means trial and error and a little failure. because at the end of the day it's not really about food, is it? loving one's body is about loving one's self. and the more you love your self the more your body rolls with the punches. the more forgiving it becomes and the more it works to give you exactly what you've always wanted. 

for one week (just one week, i promise) i will endeavor here to show you what i eat. please, take it with a grain of salt. it's my way of saying you don't have to have your coffee with low-fat milk to have a happy body. and you don't have to cut out nachos. in fact you can have full-fat milk and grilled cheese sandwiches and a piece of chocolate cake and wake up each morning feeling better than you did the day before. 

what i'm going to attempt to show is the anti-diet. the take-much-of-what-you've-been-told-and-turn-it-on-its-head lifestyle.

day one: wednesday

i have a latte more often than i'd like to admit. not because i'm ashamed of the drink, but because of the cost associated with it. i take mine with either soy milk or full-fat whole milk. i don't add sugar, but a a hefty-shake of cinnamon keeps me in good stead. 

for a while there i experimented with a vegan way of life. but it was an experiment. and what i came away with is that right now, it's not for me. most mornings i have two eggs (full eggs, not just the egg whites), full fat cheese, on either one or two slices of spelt bread. spelt was a bit of an acquired taste--but now i'm smitten with its nutty flavor. 

one of the things that i don't particularly love about my life right now is that i often leave home knowing i'll be gone for hours and hours and hours upon end. yesterday was a rare day in which i packed lunch/dinner. pumpkin filled ravioli with a little bit of olive oil and salt + a slice of spelt bread with a hefty bit of peanut butter. 

one of my absolute favorite salads is arugula with toasted pine nuts (you must toast them--the flavor is so much better!), capers, and a bit of oil (i use olive mixed with walnut). it's so simple, but i tell ya, it packs a punch. 

when i arrived home at just after one in the morning (yes) i made myself some nachos. yes, i ate nachos at one in the morning and there wasn't a lick of guilt anywhere in sight. tortilla chips, refried beans, cheddar cheese, and jalepenos. all washed down with soda water. this photo makes it look totally unappealing, but don't be fooled. it was darn good. 

(the only things not pictured were some salted almonds i had at work and a few handful of reduced-fat cheeze-its. i do not believe in reduced-fat anything. i think foods should be consumed in their whole form. but that's all that was there and i got hungry during the course of my six hour shift. sometimes you gotta take what you can get). 

don't worry, this blog isn't about to become one on which i'm constantly revealing what i eat. and then showing you how thin i am. this is not meant to be a guide to nutrition nor a this-is-how-to-get-thin series. this is just my way of combating all those 1,500 calorie a day segments in the health magazines in which the food is all so darn "healthy" and always leaves me feeling bad about myself. 

just a week. another experiment. because my body--my health is still, very much a work-in-progress. 

two months. six years.

i don't know that i've ever felt so beautiful as i did this past summer.

something shifted and i felt myself living in my body, breathing as a relatively normal person, and thinking, alright, here goes...

and then came september. and october. and november.

and all i could think was oh, shit.

i felt so low. so deep and blue and bruised.

even after all this time i often lack the courage to use the right words. and so i use other words. sadness. i'm feeling blue, i say. to make it palatable, understandable, manageable.

one of my dearest friends, over a cup of coffee, looked right at me and said, we all get blue, meg. that's life. we all have those moments. 

and i knew what she meant and i love her dearly and think her wiser than almost anyone i know, so i closed my mouth, sipped my coffee, and directed the conversation to... something else, anything else. men, probably.

but what i should have said is this: i can handle the blue. i can handle the sad. i don't live in it, i let it pass through. it's this damn eating disorder. it's something all-together, entirely different and it's suffocating. do you understand that? that i'm slowly panicking over here in this corner, and that i'm only ever (at best) two paces from losing it?

it slipped back in this fall. slinked and seeped right through the fissures and fault lines that living a courageous and open life invites. the thing is, to live courageously, to thrash about in the unknown, to stand on the brink, to look down and breathe deeply, these are the things that make one well. in the long run, these are the things that make one well, i know this.

but on the road to well is not-so-well and really-really-really-not-well and a lot of pit stops in between. and it’s exhausting.

it was back in november that i took down the link from the sidebar.

it was back in november that i went home for a week. last minute. unexpected.

why did you take the link down from the side of your blog? my mother asked in one of those talks we had in the car, paused in a parking lot, me crying, her helpless—as any good parent in that situation is. she sat and she listened and cried with me and then asked me that.

because i don’t want that story to define me. i’m done with everyone knowing.

i don’t remember what her response was, but i remember about a month later climbing the hill from my apartment here in new york and having the though: it only defines me if i say it defines me. only with my consent. it is as big or as small as i allow it to be.

and when i’m doing well, as i am most of the time, it’s just as big as i need it to be, which is to say, not at all.

but back in november, the shadow it cast was large and unforgiving. and for a moment there i lost my footing.

everyone i loved told me to let it go. stop thinking about it so much. but i was determined to really know the thing this go round. if i was gonna be stuck in the middle of it I was gonna study it from the inside out and i'd be damned if i didn't emerge just a little bit wiser about the whole thing. 

back in college we studied the alexander technique. it is a method of learning about and freeing the body. it has to do with posture and energy and blockages and is tremendously helpful for actors. one of the things you do is trace your body. meaning you, or a partner, feels along the ridges of the collarbone or the shoulder blade or some such--it's meant to help you know the anatomy of the body--to feel the whole size and breadth of each part. 

one of the hallmarks of an eating disorder is something called body checking. we most of us do it without even realizing--little things like checking our reflection in the store window or taking note that our pants are a little bit tighter today. but back when i was was really unwell i checked by body often and in strange ways. like feeling for my collarbone--checking to make sure it was there--judging my weight, my worth by that bone alone. or using my middle finger and thumb to see if they could wrap around my wrist. comparison was the hallmark of the body checking. is this easier to do today? can i feel the bone more easily today? i'd ask myself. when i returned to my second year of school having lost nearly twenty pounds from my frame (two months on weight watchers) i remember thinking, it'll be so much easier to trace my body in alexander this year. 

oh boy. big red flag. 

when i did weight watchers i lost three pounds the first week. and two pounds the week after that. and two just about each week following. and each week i defined myself not by my weight, but by my loss. by the space between. i’m seven pounds less this week, i’d think. seven less than when i began. i’d study my body in the mirror carefully take stock of the changes. my face looked leaner. my collarbone protruded a bit more. this dress fit better than the last time i tried it on. it was never just this dress looks good, it was better than. comparison to a past moment. the difference, the subtraction. 

comparison. always, always comparison. comparison isn't just the thief of joy, it is the thief of the present moment and the slippery slope to what feels awfully akin to insanity. 

the body is a constantly changing thing so if you keep trying to look for the changes and is it different and maybe it’s not—you loose your footing quickly and you stop seeing it at all. everything’s refracted, distorted, and you lose the sense of which way’s up, which down. it’s a tremendously confusing and terrible way to live your life.

now there is a chance that someone, somewhere is reading this thinking: she lost twenty pounds on weight watchers? okay, that's what i'll do then. and off that person'll trudge to a meeting and they'll count points and follow the plan and they'll lose weight too. 

so let me be very clear in how i say this: i did weight watchers for two months. i lost twenty pounds. and i  spent the next six years paying the price. 

two months. six years. do the math. 

and i followed the plan. i ate the twenty points each day. twenty points was roughly 1,000 calories. 1,000 calories each day is starvation. period. 

weight watchers was recommended to me by my pediatrician. 

i think i've lost track of why i began writing this post.  something to do with comparison. how coming out of of this last bout of blue had much to do with waking each morning and making the active choice to not study myself in the mirror or lift my shirt to check the flatness of my stomach.

and to put the sidebar (FED) back up. 

ps:

dear dara lynn-weiss, perhaps you should consider telling your daughter this.

(oh yeah, i have a few choice thoughts for that woman and anyone who thinks she did her daughter a service, but we'll get there next week).


and on another note: i don't know that i've ever opened this forum up to questions regarding my personal journey regarding eating and health. so if you do have questions or suggestions for posts, please don't hesitate to comment and ask. 

cleaning the closet.

i attempted to clean out my closet last night.

i'm a big fan of cleaning. or sorting and moving around and making piles--this to goodwill, this for a friend, this for no one else to ever have to see. ever.

i have a wonderful closet. filled with delicious and vibrant pieces. but much like my mind i utilize such a small portion of it. so i approached it last night determined to be ruthless in my weeding process. doesn't look good? get rid of it. doesn't have good memories? toss.

this is a luxury. i know that. i am tremendously spoiled in many, many ways. and the extravagance of looking at my closet through this lens is not lost on me.

given my history (that wily, little eating disorder that ate up six years of my life) i have a tenuous relationship with clothing. a friend came over recently to help me sort through and put all the pieces together in new and inventive ways (she has enviable fashion sense and sees things in ways i simply don't) and as we were pulling piece after piece there came a discovery.

why does so much of this stuff still have the original tags on it? kim asked.


i have a beautiful lace skirt that i got end of my junior year of high school. still has its tags.
that's like nine years. it's in perfect condition and not out of style and i have every intention of wearing it. and i can now (meaning, it fits) and that's a huge triumph for me.
but seriously, nine years?
oh hell.

and that's just the tip of the iceberg.

for so long i bought clothes thinking, well, five pounds from now it'll look great. (more often the thought was, ten or fifteen--i was optimistic and deeply, deeply unwell).

and so there i was last night, trying on nearly every item of clothing i own, attempting to look objectively--does this look good, is it wearing around the edges? no, look again. does it actually look good or is it just that it looks better than it did before?


i did make a pile of clothes to move on from. luckily, shockingly, it was not terribly large. i have some beautiful pieces with real staying power. and i resolved to wear more of them. to let my staple, go-to loves stay on the hanger more often than usual. to remove all those tags and wear the clothes that for years i thought, i'll be more courageous when i'm comfortable in my own skin. 


there's more courage now, sure, but it has little do with looking (or thinking i look) better and much to do with appreciating where i am and who i am and that my personal brand of beauty has very little to do with the size of my hips. don't get me wrong--it has some to do with the size of my hips--but these hips i got here now, i didn't get 'em from dieting. i didn't get 'em from counting calories or cutting carbs or spending hours upon hours on the stair master. i got 'em from years (yes, years!) of eating well and healthfully day in and day out. i got 'em from going to the gym and going to physique because i know that my body needs to be challenged, because i wanted to build bone density and improve heart health. i got 'em and they're mine and they're not perfect and yes, okay, sometimes i wish they were slimmer, but in the end, they're pretty damn good.

and tomorrow these hips of mine might look just a bit different. and it'll probably have nothing to do with anything i've eaten and everything to do with the fact that our bodies change. we age, we mature, we prepare to bear children. life.

the thing that really struck me last night--me laying on top of all those beautiful clothes, on top of my bed, halfway through the process--was that: some of the items, while the initial memory they conjured was anything but good, i found myself unwilling and unable to let go.

because the memory was not just not good. it was also sweet and redemptive and important. some of the worst--the absolute worst moments and phases of my life--were filled with some of the greatest love. i look back on those times and remember that the love of my family was electric--tangible.

i have a dress that at this point is just a little too big. it was like ten bucks from H&M but it's worn really well. now i pull it out when i'm feeling not-my-best. so i should just toss it, no? well,  i tried it on last night, knowing full well i got it when i was sad and ashamed of my rounded stomach, but standing there, studying myself in it , i knew i couldn't yet let it go. because that's the dress i was wearing when a man i once loved pushed the navy fabric this way and that to get to all the best parts of me. revealing the beauty of my body in a way that mirrors have never been able.

this is all to say: it's not so easy. there is no black and white to the story. just  a lot of gray. i can feel that this chapter of my life is really closing. the time is upon me. and i've so long waited and wished and hoped for this, but there is still the loss of it.

on having my picture taken.

before beginning:

this is a continuation.

of a story.

about ned.

ned being my nasty,

little eating disorder.

more info here.

sarah, myself, carolyn, and amanda

i thought it was about weight.

my anxiety about having my picture taken.

i thought it was about the weight.

thought it was that the pictures reflected what i couldn't admit to myself.

that i was fat.

i thought that was it.

but it wasn't. not really.

we were out on saturday night. my friends and i.

i with my little camera nestled deep into the folds of my go-to-black-bag (which has finally reached the critical point of looking just-worn-in-enough {but i digress}).

yes, i with my little camera. i who knew it was there. i who wanted to take it out. but couldn't.

until amanda (my infinitely wise roommate) asked where it was and began to do what i could not.

and it was there, in the bar on saturday night, perched on my stool, with prosecco in hand, that i stared at that little camera screen and declared, oh, i look like an adult.

but that wasn't quite right. that wasn't exactly what i meant to say. what i meant to say was, oh, there i am. that's me. that's me, happy. huh.

illumination ensued.

i realized it was not the reflection of fat i feared.

it was that i couldn't find myself.

it was that i saw instead this girl who was so sad. this shell of someone i once knew.

but now, after all this time, i am beginning to see the picture in its entirety. and it is one of such happiness.

yes, yes, i still see the bits and pieces--of course--my disappearing eyes and brand-new-renegade-cheek-mole (an audacious little thing it is!). but i can see beyond those things. beyond what i like and do not like.

and suddenly there i am. an adult (or so it would seem). and a happy one at that.

go figure.

and he's dreamy to boot.

how to say this?

i think food and weight is one of the next great political issues in this country.

all you have to do is read the information out there.

for the first time in our history obese women are giving birth to children in huge numbers. and no one's really sure how's this is going to affect those children. but the studies done indicate that it won't be good.

sorry, that's an understatement.

it will be bad: predisposition to diabetes, brains that actually crave fatty, processed foods.

so you can see how this obesity thing might snowball. will snowball.

there is movement, across the country to legislate how we deal with food.

the new york city calorie count law. (which i happen to think is bad).

a tax on sodas and juice drinks. (which i happen to think is good--it's like taxing cigarettes, that extra money makes it slightly more difficult for people to buy. and the idea is more people will turn to water {good}).

to say we need a revolution in the food industry is not histrionic or hyperbolic. it's a fact.

diets do not work. over the long run, they do not work. people do not fail. the diets do.

processed food is bad. how food is manufactured is bad.

i've been watching jaime oliver's food revolution over the last few weeks. and i've been floored. by the lack of words like weight and calories. the emphasis on health.

the thrusts to his program are

1. eat real food

2. learn to cook

do you know that if people were to those two things (two things!) the obesity epidemic could be cut in half?

hmm. so maybe he's on to something?

it's the first and only reality television show i've ever seen that's gotten it right--that hasn't been a quick fix for one person or one family. that wants to make small and very possible changes that could actually, yes, revolutionize the way america eats.

this is all to say: the season finale is tonight. i think you should watch it. or dvr it. or hulu it tomorrow (as i will do).

(climbing off soapbox now).

image via google

acorns and grapes

sometimes my chicken-little-within feels the thump of an acorn and thinks the sky is falling.

a couple of bad food days.

and so i'm forced to pick up the acorn, hold it in my hands, and describe the things that make it just exactly what it is.

i must go back to the basics. remind myself: the food i want is not necessarily the food my body wants.

and so i pull out my list of fruits and vegetables that i find tolerable. choose one and make it my goal for the day to fall in love with it.  

i do love this grape. i do love this grape. i do love this grape.

and i begin again. because it is not the beginning. just a new place to start.

ned be gone. and a bad southern accent.

not sure who ned is?

ned is the name for my nasty little

eating disorder, which was never

so little, unfortunately).

check my sidebar for

posts with explanations.

today at work i was standing by the bar, waiting to transfer a bar-tab (yes, yes, my parents are very proud) when one of the regulars asked me if i was losing weight.

this threw me off.

1. i did not know he was that regular

and 

2. this suggests i've been working there too long

i looked at him, surprised, and said, why do you ask?

why do you ask? i'm quite sure that's neither a usual or appropriate response to the question. in fact why do you ask, doesn't really make any sense in the context. but without thinking that's what came out.

he, perphaps more surprised than me, countered with, well, you are, aren't you? and then quickly added, it's never a bad thing to say to a woman is it?

i, realizing my mistake, said, no, no, of course not, thank you. 

having an eating disorder is like drowning. being thrust into cold, choppy waters and not knowing which way leads to the surface. 

and so in the past, these comments gave me a sense of direction--were anchors by which to grab hold. 

today, this comment was kind, but unimportant. now, the only useful and important feedback comes from myself and my beautiful body. 

holy smokes, did i just call my body beautiful?

why fancy that miss susan, i believe i did.  (this last line has to be said in a truly bad gone-with-the-wind-southern accent coupled with a little head bobble to make any sense, and even then it falls short, but...oh, well.)

ps: this was after a guest asked how i got my hair to look like that (i had it it in french-braided-pig tails that came together) and i told her it was quite easy because my hair was unbelievably dirty. euf. pretty sure you're not supposed to say that when you're working in a restaurant. the powers that be would not be pleased. 

 

miracle of miracles.

disclaimer: if you don't know who ned is, 

chances are you'll want to find out 

before you begin to read this.

look here.

or check my sidebar

for more reading suggestions.

 

the most amazing thing happened today.

i went to my absolute favorite frozen-yogurt place in all of new york city, forty carrots (at bloomingdale's) and ordered up a small coffee-flavored delight.

there are a few things you should know about forty-carrot frozen-yogurt.

1. it's the best.

and

2. a small serving is about the size of a small child's head. 

i took my yogurt to go and, forgoing the cross town subway, walked through the park to columbus circle. 

i diligently finished all of my frozen delight around 59th and 5th. at which point i began to notice an unpleasant after-taste in my mouth.

i walked the rest of the way to the A train while pondering the strange taste.

and this is what i concluded:

the introduction of real food into my life is changing my ability to deal with processed food. 

in other words, all that fruit is screwing with my taste buds.

this is a good thing. i know, i know, it's just hard to take in the moment. it's probably for the best, forty carrots recently stopped offering crushed skors bars as a topping and so my coffee delight was never going to be the same anyway. 

but still. euf. 

there were a few days while in australia where ned took strong hold.

when ned is at his worst it as though i am every so slowly suffocating. or as if i am a tire with a small air leak, but in reverse. 

big events can be hard. a trip to australia. a landmark. by which time you think you'll be at a certain point. that you'll be okay taking a million photos. and then you're not. and this brief-glittering compass that guided your life for the last month dissolves in your hands and you're left with sticky residue of your own disappointment. 

there was one day where stephen's request to photograph me in front of the sydney sky-line resulted in a near-nervous-breakdown. 

and yet for every day on vacation where ned had me fighting for my life there were days where i couldn't believe how absent he was. and the flip-flopping between the two extremes resulted in a wee of a miracle.

i gained perspective.

oh, perspective!

there are certain things i want for my life. things that being thin will be enormously helpful with. and that's a fact. like it or not.

and it's not personal. just...pragmatic. 

does that make sense? 

i haven't seen dr. bob in a little over a month (august was the time to vacation!). but i think when i tell him of this he'll be pleased. he'll tell me this is good because i'm now using a different part of my brain to deal with the situation.  

getting better is a process. the pace of which puts a snail to shame. 

and there are different stages.

stage #450,201: put end to binges:

allowing myself to eat whatever i wanted so as to not trigger any kind of deprivation mechanism. this included many a starbuck's rainbow cookie. which is fine. except that i was eating starbuck's rainbow cookies at the expense of a good wholesome meal. 

so now begins stage #450,246: the quest for 6+ fruits and vegetables a day. and swimming:

it's about health, mental and body. and the knowledge that this will most likely change my body. but it's not about just changing the body. 

with the accumulation of stages and thus ned's continued recession comes the awareness of just how much i have yet to improve upon--things you'd never guess were connected in any way to food. 

i have to listen better. 

and learn to speak eloquently (and unemotionally) in difficult situations. 

and by golly, i need to practice flirting!

but i'm so proud of myself. 

i flew across the world. 

by myself. 

and arranged for the travel visa. 

by myself. 

i repainted my entire apartment when it would have been much easier to fall apart. 

i got the bed bug covers on my mattress by myself (and that, i must say is quite difficult to do). 

i stood-up for myself.

and admitted when i was wrong.

i've taken initiative at work. 

i put on a bathing suit four days last week and walked from the locker room to the pool sans t-shirt, towel, or any form of cover-up. 

there are a hundred other things that i can't even remember. little things. things other people do without giving it a second though. 

in some ways it all boils down to this:

i'm learning to navigate this life without ned there to make all my decisions for me. and that my friends is a miracle of no small size. 

in fact, i'm quite sure it's of gargantuan proportions. 

a story.

before beginning: if you

don't know who ned is,

go here or here.

for more information,

check my sidebar.

i'm sitting here in my ever-so-small kitchen spooning copious amounts of peanut butter and jelly straight from the jar onto the last of my challah bread.

and i'm thinking of a story that i want to tell you.

my story.

and let me be clear. this is not a story about ned. it is simply a story in which ned plays a part.

i'm not sure when it exactly it happened-- that i started counting. it began simply. one day, two days, three days and on. days without ned. i had a tally mark. on my chalkboard wall. on my chalkboard wall adjacent to my ever-so-small kitchen.

and each day--each tally mark--was this gift, this undeserved miracle, which i wrapped my sturdy, little fingers around and clung to.

and then something really remarkable happened. my fingers let go. and i looked down at my hands. and i saw the all-at-once careful and careless intersection of folds and lines and curves and i fell in love with them. i have twelve moles on my hands alone. twelve.

but i digress.

so my fingers let go. followed by my hands. followed by a part of myself which, as of yet, i cannot name.

and i stopped counting. i stopped measuring my days as free of ned. a day was just a day. what am i saying? a day was just a day? no, a day was...a day. free of ned or not, the day was the miracle.

i don't know the last time i binged. i couldn't tell you. i do know that last friday night i ate too much chocolate. and i loved every minute of it.

ned isn't gone. there is still so much to do. to change. to experience. to live through and survive.

i got this lovely email from a young woman who said, "i just want to be thin." and i thought, yes, me too. of course, me too. but i want to be thin plus ten million other things. and you see, that's an eating disorder in a nutshell. the desire to be thin eclipses everything else. it eats up (pun intended) the entire pie chart. and so in getting better, one must identify everything else (the + 10 million things) that one is or wants. my list is small, but growing. and so my ned section of the pie chart is diminishing. rapidly.

i have spent my life enveloped in stories. in making them up and in making them come true. in acting school our first year acting teacher always said, you are enough. meaning--you don't have to try so hard, don't act--just be. and i thought i knew what that meant. i though i could do that.

but it is only now, that for the first time i believe that my story is enough that i understand. for the first time i don't need to make up or make one come true anything. for the first time i believe in my own story. my story is enough. and put in those words, it makes all the sense in the world.

yes i do.

"i've got a perfect body, but sometimes i forget"

oh regina, of course.

thanks for the reminder.

ps: your new album is

beyond brilliant.

image via ffffound

what nie has done for me.

when on that fateful day i clicked the "create blog" button i had no idea what i was getting myself into.

my parents were so opposed to the whole thing. 

so i dragged my feet. occasionally posting (posting, what is posting?) a quote or an old picture, but nothing more. 

i was testing the line. the line between what other's told me was right or acceptable  and what i thought i might just enjoy. 

and then there was this article. in the new york times (go figure). and it was about this woman. a mother. a wife. a blogger. who had been in a plane crash. who's sister had taken up her cause. and around which the entire blogging community (community, what?) was rallying.

and i thought. my God. i want to be a part of that. 

i remember reading somewhere--probably a cup of jo (yeah, yeah, go figure) about what blogging does for a person a year in. and let's put all our cards on the table--blogging is not for everyone. a lot of people love reading them, hate making them. and i get it. i do. but i happen to love it. 

and i'm nearing that first year mark (about two months out, really) and what comes to mind is...

well, so i visited a life coach the spring break of my second year, when it became abundantly clear that things were not going so well. and i remember her asking me to make a love list (something that oprah has now made famous as only oprah can). the idea being that you list things you think are important in a mate. and from there you can break them down into categories: deal breakers, icing on the cake, and so on. and by giving a name to these things, by recognizing them, you begin to attract them into your life. 

so i made the list. 

will stay up all night and play video games with me (this was once done and let me just say, the guy won mad points for it).

can keep up with me when we ski. or maybe even, dare is say it, go faster? ha, not likely.

plays a mean game of foosball. or air hockey. 

adventurous.

likes to travel.

willing to make a fool of himself on the dance floor.

many of the qualities i sought were things that would balance me out. i needed him to be more socially adept to make up for my lack of prowess in mingling situations, louder to balance out my until-you-really-get-to-know-me soft spoken tone.

but what i realized was that in listing the qualities i hoped to find in my partner, i was giving a name to those things i loved about myself. my God, i loved something about myself?

yeah. 

yeah, i love that i want adventure. and that i can play a mean game of pick-up baseball. i love that with enough encouragement i'll dance at a wedding like no one is watching. and yes, i can ski. well. quite well (got my mom's genes on that one). i love that i laugh loudly and openly and get giddy and even that i cry at the most inopportune times. 

and so the thing is...that's in many ways what this blog is. it is my list. it is me giving a name to those things about myself, about my life which (and oh how taboo i once thought this was) i love. 

and that list, this blog is bringing me back from the edge. it's revealing me to myself. slowly, each day. 

i was so humbled by nie's recent post. 

Mother came with me instead. We talked about angels, family, children's names, hope, and other things Mom's and daughters talk about including how I hurt when I wake up in the morning. Cindy (my mum) asked me when I was going to post a picture of me on the blog.

things Mom's and daughters talk about...(my mum) asked me when I was going to post a picture of me on the blog.

i read that. and it was so simple. and i'm quite sure my mom asked me the same question about a week ago. though she said something along the lines of, so when are you going to stop hiding behind goofy faces and cropped shots and post an actual picture of yourself on the blog?

and there it was. 

now let me be as clear as words will allow...i cannot even begin to understand what stephanie is going through and i am only equating my situation with her's on the most primal of levels. the level of a love between a mother and daughter and also what it feels like to not feel at home in your body.  what i mean to say is...here is this woman that i have never met, who lives across the country, and comes from a world so different than my own, who has suffered something that goes beyond trauma, something that i cannot (and God help me, never will be able to) imagine. and  some eensy-teensy, infinitesimal part of me understands what she might feel when she looks in the mirror. because in the wide spectrum of human experience there is a set gammut of human emotion. our emotions, though felt to different degrees and in different ways, connect us. and isn't there comfort to be found in that? and comfort to be found in the fact that moms and daughters talk about the same things?

i have looked in the mirror and failed to see myself. i have literally been shocked by the image. and yet i know it is me. i have mourned for life. i have mourned for a part of myself usurped by something that while i can try to give a name to it, will always be so much bigger than anything language can give breath to. chekhov got it right when he had masha say, I am in mourning for my life. but chekhov was a comedian. and i daresay he believed in life. and the little things (which really are the big things, aren't they?) that blogs tend to celebrate.

I had a simple glimpse of me coming back. I get to create a new "me" whatever that entails. It hasn't been easy having to reinvent myself. I have (and still do) mourn for Stephanie. Where did she go? Now I look in the mirror and see someone else, but it's still me. It's...well...weird. I have to learn to be me again. I have to accept and hope. And I should stop saying "should" and replace that with "get". I GET to have a second chance at life. I get to enjoy my children even if my fingers don't work. I get to change the way I look at life and how I can somehow help someone else in need.

i'm coming back too. i didn't even know i was gone. but i'm coming back. and i look at myself in the mirror. i look at this body that i've loathed for so long, this body that has felt alien, this body that i thought was suffocating me, and i'm learning to love it. to love me. ned was the enemy, but my body... well, my body never was. and the thing was, i thought it was the other way round. i put ned on the pedestal--built him a shrine, and berated my body, every chance i got. but my body never failed me. my body took it. and insulated me. and loved me. and waited patiently for the day when i would come back. 

nie posted a picture of her eyes. 

the courage. 

it bewilders me. 

leaves me without words. 

i thought, okay, me too...what can i do that will display a fraction of the courage she conveyed in that so-not-simple action of revealing her eyes? and i thought, i'll post a full length shot...no problem. 

but i can't. i'm not ready. not quite. but i will be nie, soon. i will learn to, as you say, accept and hope. and love. and give thanks. to this body. to an infinite, all-knowing power. to my mum for asking the simple questions. and to you. you for your unimaginable courage and example. you who already helped someone in need. you, who i have a sneaking suspicion has helped countless just like me.

so thank you. truly, that's all i know to say...thank you. 

fat talk

so i have this thing. i call it ned. ned is the acronym (and euphemism) for my nasty little eating disorder. 

i don't always want to talk about ned. because there is more to me than this thing.

but...

it is important to talk about.

and in my quest to slay the dragon (ned) i've come across some things i'd like to share.

1. any-body.org:

a website giving women a voice to challenge the limited physical representation of females in contemporary society

and on this said website i found...

2. the following video which probes into the idea of "fat talk"; to be honest when i first saw it i thought something along the lines of oh, how silly. 

but it's stuck with me. 

and it's made me think before i open my mouth. 

and i'm getting better and making ned into a nothing of a man (or dragon) and this has played a part... so if you have a minute (or three)...