Flesh and Bone|
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Waist Disposal.'s LiveJournal:
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|Saturday, September 10th, 2011|
Feeling mentally better but maybe it's just euphoria from no food. I actually love that feeling. It's better than a Marlboro Red after a long day of work and it's totally unacceptable to admit that this hunger feels good. But that's the secret of the self-starver; there is an addictive chemical shift in the body that feels amazing.
I'm still losing weight. Autumn is coming on fast and I want to be a chilled skeleton. Veins in my arms stand out. Everyone politely ignores the scars, the odd bruises, the punctures. There are long sleeves for that, anyway. It's all just a trick of the light.
I'm humming with restlessness, floating above it all in a glorious, wobbly-legged high of starvation mode. I'm a telephone wire buzzing in the 4 AM dew as I go out for a walk.
My collar bones are prominent. My pulse hammers when I drink a small coffee (black, thanks). I love how my heart wakes me up in the middle of the night, murmuring in a panic like a baby having a bad dream. I caress it with one hand, shush it back to sleep, tell it comforting lies that everything is just fine and tomorrow I'll give it a nice glass of milk to nourish the whooshing of blood in the body.
And I float. Drifting on organic process now, no drug but my own body. No need for outside chemical distractions now. Just beautiful, natural floating.
|Saturday, July 23rd, 2011|
|It's been nearly three years since my last confession.
I don't know if anyone even reads this anymore. I've been away so long, I don't expect a response. I just need a place to vent what is going on in my head, to gather my thoughts and sort myself out. I'm glad I didn't delete the account.
I was away for a long time, feeling pretty healthy. Married to a great guy. Should be happy. But all things change like the tide; ebb and flow. Like blood. Like new interests. And in one sense, I am happy. Settled. Content.
I'm also selfish. I'm in love with my husband, who loves me enough to blithely ignore the hours I spend by myself. The strange hours I crawl into bed after reading in the basement for hours by myself. The meals I skip and the restlessness I cultivate. He is mine and I am his, and that's good enough. I carve out at least two nights a week to spend with him, sober and hand-holding, caressing and adoring. And I really do feel those things.
I'm so very sneaky, you see. People who love you will ignore a host of bad habits in the name of love, civility and blissful ignorance. God bless their good manners; it lets me be a beast when they are not looking.
I've always kept myself busy to distract the beastly parts in my head. I don't think I'm a very nice girl. I gave up on that a long time ago, after being told in church for decades that I'm never good enough but I Should Just Keep Working On It. It's like having a parent tell you how much they love you even though you are and always will be a ScrewUp. Pretty soon, you give up even trying. My spiritual life is in "Whatever" mode.
I think I instinctively know that I become destructive if I'm left to boredom. So I take music lessons, dance, make art, sing. If I'm not busy, I do things like walk on the roof of the barn or pierce my own ears. Many bad haircuts and a few tattoos have come from too much boredom and not enough distraction. I can't seem to make my brain quiet.
I've dropped twenty pounds in the past two months, quite suddenly. It was a planned project at which I excelled, like all things I take on. I'm proud of my bones. I'm less proud of the other things that go with the process. Starvation is fine; I'm okay with hunger. It's not comfortable but it's relatively safe if done carefully and I'm not trying to die, just be thin. I'll be 120 before summer is done. That's just fact.
It's the other things that come along with the starvation; those things bother me. When my interest in food wanes, my interest in stimulants increases. The body needs something to propel it forward. My secretive side creeps up when I'm hungry too. Suddenly I'm smoking cigarettes and popping/sniffing/shooting things. Playing with needles and sharps. Trying very hard to conceal it while also enjoying the rush. But only on weekends, when I don't have to be up early for work. I'm clean at work, bone sharp and caffeinated but clean.
This is the behavior of a stupid kid, not a fully-grown adult with a full time job and family. Or is it just that adulthood makes us cunning and able to conceal/balance our natures? When will I be old enough to be smart?
Addicts and anorexics are 20-year-olds living on the streets, not college grads who are married and responsible adults, holding down jobs and spend weekends cooking meals-on-wheels for invalid relatives.
Such dark stuff. And I know better, but I still can't help but test how close I can fly to the sun before it melts my wings.
|Thursday, August 14th, 2008|
|Back for more.
Coming back to this LJ after a long hiatus.
Healthier in some ways, not so healthy in others. That is the stuff of life.
Thinking a lot about cutting lately. About the red flow of sticky stuff in my fingers, the way it sits in the cracks of my skin's geography. I'm pale and red is a stark, beautiful thing on white skin.
Thoughts, not actions.
|Tuesday, January 25th, 2005|
|The tortoise and the hare
Collectively, I’ve lost 13 pounds.
My weight loss has slowed down, but it’s still steadily continuing. I’m eating loads of vegetables before dinner, snacking on fruit and drinking water instead of soda. I don’t remember the last time I had a soda, even diet soda.
I enjoy weighing myself. I know some dieticians recommend not weighing yourself daily. But it gives me a guage of what foods are good for me and whether I’m still on track. I know that 2 pounds a week is healthy so I’m sticking to it. It’s helpful, not harmful.
Tonight I’m going out for dinner with friends. I’m concerned because what I consider a healthy portion does not meet their ideas of a healthy meal. My friends are rather large and sedentary. They are big eaters. I’m hoping friendly conversation will steer away from my food choices. I’m on a good track. I don’t want to be distracted.
It’s easy to be intimidated by people’s opinions of your food choices, especially as a woman. I’m reading "Appetites" by Caroline Knapp. It’s a book about women’s desires and how they often become wrapped up in food and desires that are more managable than emotional needs. I recommend it.
And so, the needle dips below 150. I’m safely back in size 8-10 clothes. (Funny, I think of smaller sizes as "safer" than larger ones.) When I reach 140, I’ll celebrate by buying myself a tight baby tee-shirt to show off my waist. When I hit 130, I’ll buy a 2-piece swimsuit. I should be there by April at the latest.
Slow and steady wins the race, girls.
|Monday, January 17th, 2005|
I put on 3 lbs. overnight from eating salty soup last night. So I've been drinking water all day, trying to flush it out. I know it's only water weight but it bothers me.
I have to go running tonight. I've leveled off on major weight loss but I'm still dropping about a pound a week. That's not bad and I've heard that if it's lost slowly, it will stay off longer. I hope that's true.
Salad, celery, plain popcorn, rice cakes, pretzels and yogurt. Soup is good food when I get the lower-sodium variety. Being full on veggies feels weird. It's a different kind of fullness and it wears off in the middle of the night. So I wake up, roll over and try to sleep.
I do enjoy being hungry at breakfast time. I eat yogurt and drink tea. Yogurt is the best flavor in the world at 8 AM. Moreso with fiber cereal sprinkled in it.
I just need to stay on track. Can I do this forever? Without a doubt. Self-discipline isn't easy; it's a day to day exercise but I'm an adult and I'm in charge of me and what goes into my mouth.
|Thursday, January 13th, 2005|
|A note for men:
When you come home at night and find all the lights are out...
And there are candles lit...
And a girl in the hall wearing a very sheer negligee in the middle of January...DO NOT
proceed to open the mail and sort your bills. Current Mood: bitchy
|Friday, January 7th, 2005|
The four pairs of pants I kept hidden in the back of my closet now fit my ever-shrinking ass.
I shimmied into a pair of tight red hip huggers marked size 10 and snapped the button shut. Satisfaction. A month ago I couldn’t even get them past my butt. This is a shallow thing but it feels good and it fits my aesthetics. Frankly, I'm a vain goth and I hate to waste good clothes. It’s nice to be in the range of "slim" sizes again.
I bought a pair of black jeans last summer online for a cheap price. Imagine my despair when the "size 13-14" didn’t fit. Granted, they are cut to fit 12-year-old anorexic girls but that’s no excuse; they were cut like a slim size 10. This morning I tried them on and they fit like a glove. When I lose 5 more pounds they may even be a bit loose; we’ll see. I hate American sizing systems with their wide range of what is petite vs. plus size.
At 5'8" I should not be considered a "plus" just because I can’t squeeze into a size 6. I’m tall and my bones match my height. Even at my pared-down thinnest I was a size 8. It made me look knife-thin at my height. I want that again.
Ignoring my television has worked wonders for me. I am no longer pacified by the drug of the masses, the idiot box that blares food/makeup/clothing/products 24/7 into my cozy home. It’s an invasion, having that thing on.
I feel precarious, being free of consumption lately. I wonder what’s changed in me, psychologically. I haven’t had any stress or major upheavals lately. It’s just like something "clicked" in my brain and I realized that the industry has no hold over me. I can drink water, eat veggies, and still feel good without cheeseburgers or chocolate bars in the equation. My shopping habits have also changed; I no longer feel the need to fill up on heaps of new shoes and junk filling my closet. Strange, this mental switch.
|Tuesday, January 4th, 2005|
|Blood and fire.
A few years ago, I was a self-destructive soul who enjoyed cutting. I’m still struggling but I’ve turned away from the razors and scarring. My skin is fair and heals well; you can hardly see the marks anymore. It’s been six years and I have fine lines, like thin white tattoos.
I get the urge sometimes. I resist it. I’m proud that I quit on my own but I’m not sure I’ve stopped completely. I’ve still got the mentality and I stay away from sharp things like an addict stays away from needles.
I go running for miles when I get the urge to cut. It’s a trick I learned from reading about my "condition." I didn’t learn cutting behavior from anyone; I discovered it on my own. I hid it from my family and never showed it to anyone. My parents would have been deeply disappointed.
I recently found out that my niece was caught cutting herself. She got caught. Makes me wonder if it’s genetic?
It was a release from stress for me in school. Endorphins, not pain. Outward bleeding for inward turmoil. Visual, strong, shocking and real. I really only quit because I don’t care for the scars. If I could bleed without scarring, I’d probably still be at it.
Exercise has become my saving grace from the behavior. Wanna cut? Go running. Think you need some pain? Ride your bike hard for 10 miles. I’ll teach you, rebellious body. My brain is in charge, not my muscles/stomach/intestines/lungs. I’ll think and suffer past this and come out stronger, thinner, tougher than before.
Blood is the life.
|Friday, December 31st, 2004|
Woke up hungry today. I’m down a couple more pounds; I have to wear a belt to keep my jeans up.
I like being hungry in the morning. I appreciate breakfast more and I know my body is on the right “schedule” for calorie burning. I don’t just munch blindly, I savor each bite.
Some people have noticed the weight loss. A co-worker commented that I look good. A boy called me skinny last night at the bar. I concentrate on the encouraging words; it means I’m looking leaner, closer to my goal. I’d like to get down to 130-135 and maintain my weight within that range. At my height, it would be ideal for keeping muscle and bone density. I’ve done my research, I want to be healthy. My goal is an athletic, slim build on my tall frame. I think that’s reasonable and attainable.
I’m taking progress photos and measurements to have visual evidence of my body changing. It’s another tool to remind me of how far I’ve come and where I’m heading. I may post them here as well.
My fridge is loaded with salad, veggies, wraps, hummus, light yogurt and soups. I bought brown rice too, in case I need some carbohydrates. I’ve given up soda; it’s just sugar water marketed in a pretty can. I try to think about the basic elements of food instead of the emotional high I get from it. Sure, it looks pretty and smells good, but will it be worth it to stuff that donut into my belly? What benefits will it have?
We’re surrounded by a barrage of commercials about fast, easy lifestyle and food products. 99 cent value menus, Little Debbie snack cakes, Martha Stewart makes chocolate ganache, super size my butt, please!
I’ve started to be critical of everything I see advertised on TV. Bleaching my teeth or wearing the next hot shade of lipstick will not turn me into a model. Eating 5 tacos from Taco Bell will not satisfy me or make me happy. It’s all about mindless consumption and pretty packaging, whether you buy cosmetics or fast food. I refuse this culture of instant gratification with no substance.
I’m finding my necessities, taking out the excess. I am not controlled by marketing ploys or the latest trends. I am not controlled by my appetites, which is what marketing executives want from us. I’m not an empty vessel being filled by useless junk in a consumer culture. I am mindful of my consumption.
|Wednesday, December 29th, 2004|
|Winning a war at Christmas.
Turning this into a battle of sorts has changed me mentally. I maintained my weight loss over Christmas, and now I'm back to my pre-holiday habits.
The threat of holiday cookies and treats was no threat at all. I simply stayed out of the kitchen.
I notice that at every holiday party the men sit in the living room while the women stand in the kitchen chatting and munching on food. This year, I stayed in the living room and avoided the plates of cookies and candy. I'm fortunate to require lots of travel between parties, so I can say I'm full from a previous party. I did eat, but I avoided filler-foods like potatoes, fruit salad with whipped cream and corn. Corn is pure sugar...it isn't even a grain. Did you know they make MSG from corn?
So I had small tastes of a variety of things but I thought about each item before eating it. I savor tastes and flavors now that I don't gorge myself at mealtime. I've become a picky eater but this is a good thing. My nose and mouth are more sensitive. If the flavor of something is not quite right, I don't eat it.
For example, the meat was dry at one party so I set aside the small portion I took. I can always go back for more of something if I like it but usually a taste is enough to satisfy my craving.
I realize I live in a culture where food is abundant. Even if I get hungry, there is always something around to feed the beast in my belly. We will never starve in our overfed nation, yet we eat like we might run out at any moment.
But there is even decadence in my choosing to be hungry because I know I don't have to be empty in this nation of plenty. It's simply another choice, like choosing which clothes to wear or what TV program to watch. Eating less has made me more appreciative of the wealth of food here.
I'm so blessed to have a choice of nine varieties of low-fat yogurt, white or wheat bread, frozen meat, 5 types of lettuce and tropical fruit even in the dead of winter. In many ways, it's really shocking. Current Mood: grateful
|Monday, December 13th, 2004|
Does one hungry creature recognise another?
I've dropped 10 pounds in the space of a week. I got my mojo working this time and it won't stop. I found the scent again. My mindset is right.
The growling belly feels good, aching like a pair of high-heeled stiletto shoes ache. Sure, it's uncomfortable but I look good so I won't stop. I'll keep the vampire chained to the wall and withhold feedings.
It's not anorexia, it's a game to see who can win this war. I don't think I'm fat. I just want to be leaner. It's about aesthetics. It's about performance. It's about filling out a sweater with bony shoulders and lean calves. I'm no teenager with performance anxiety or peer pressure. This is self-examination and paring of the self.
|Wednesday, August 18th, 2004|
The past month's persistence and diligence has yielded a weight loss of five pounds. It came suddenly, after 2 weeks of seeing no change. Suddenly, it just dropped.
Strange how our bodies suddenly catch up to our activity level, like leaving the iron on or falling asleep during a TV program. With a jolt, the weight suddenly shifts and falls away. Wake up, body!
My stress level has been higher lately, and I've been doing more activities though not necessarily exercise for the sake of burning calories. Lots of cleaning, moving my arms, flailing with stress.
Dinners have been small lately. Healthy breakfast, late lunch and light dinner. Ice cream? One scoop in a tiny bowl. There, that's not so bad.
My reward? Size 10 pants. Aw, yeah! We're getting there.
|Tuesday, July 20th, 2004|
|Woman vs. Girl
Sometimes I worry about being feminine enough, with all my physicality and exercise and current focus on strength training.
It’s a stupid cultural norm that all women should be skinny and lithe, helpless little creatures with no opinions and mindlessly nurturing attitudes. Part of me thinks it’s all crap, part of me wants to fit the mold. I don’t want to have too much muscle for my husband’s taste. But I enjoy feeling strong and capable, like a super hero. Where do I draw the line? My defined arms and wide shoulders looked so strange last week in the tiny little sundress I found in my closet. I feel like a fraud when I wear a tiny dress. Shouldn’t I be enjoying wearing those things? I am a woman, after all. But I don't fit the mold that society has cast for me.
Maybe that’s just it: a woman enjoys her body for its strength, a girl enjoys her for its weakness. I’m walking a close line between my girlhood and this new, adult status I’ve found. I hope I fall off on the woman side, and I hope my hubby nods in approval.
I want him to be proud of my successes, proud of the strong woman he sees. Yes, I want to be slim. But I want to be slim and strong like a ballet dancer or a natural body builder. Not a super model.
Where is my happy medium?
|Thursday, July 1st, 2004|
|The long haul.
I lost 1 pound this week. Not much, but not bad considering the birthday weekend and crazy pizza party that ensued.
Keeping a food log has been so helpful. I'm very aware of what is going into my gullet now. Being mindful of food is not the same as being guilty about it. I think about it and savor each bite of food, then throw away or save the portion I don't need to eat.
I only eat what is familiar, so I know the calorie content. That also prevents my stomach from encountering weird, overly-spiced foods that contain mysterious creamy sauces or restaurant portions. Familiar food is safe, and some habits are good. A body that is familiar with nutrients will process them completely and easily. No surprises; no greasy lumps of rich gunk. Sometimes new food can cause hearburn which can be confused with hunger.
Stick to what you know.
|Tuesday, June 22nd, 2004|
|Nature vs. Nurture
I enjoy body modification. This includes dieting, exercise, corsetry and other means of altering a physical form. I like the idea of having lean biceps and a 20-inch waist. 20 is the smallest I’ve corseted down to, though I’m more comfortable and proportionate at 23-24 inches. I need to start tightlacing again.
I’m not anorexic; I simply enjoy controlling my portions and I like restriction. I get a sense of accomplishment from eating little in a day and I admit it. I keep food logs to be sure I don’t eat less than 800 calories but no more than 1500. I do have issues with food, but let’s be honest...every woman in America has food issues.
There is such a strange double standard in our culture’s views on weight. As a woman, I find the pressure is contradictory on many levels. When I begin to put on weight, society tells me that it is BAD. I see it on every magazine rack, every celebrity interview, every TV show, every late-night infomercial hawking the latest exercise equipment. Being above a certain weight range is not only unhealthy; it is unattractive and lowers a woman’s value in our society. One MUST be controlled if one is a woman in this culture.
I have an equal and opposite pressure from family and loved ones who worry if I begin to lose weight. I am at a clinical mid-range weight for my height. I would prefer to be on the low end of this range for my health and for personal aesthetics.
My mother is heavy but was very thin as a young woman. Her eating habits and lack of activity have contributed to weight gain. When I mention that I am losing weight, her immediate response is "don’t get anorexic on me!" And my husband is worried that I’ll get too thin. He is a naturally slender person and doesn’t worry much about his own weight.
While I appreciate their concern, I have a pretty good body image and I don’t hate my mortal envelope. I simply want to be slender, avoid diabetes (which runs in my family) and feel good about my body.
I am the slimmest among my immediate family members. I exercise regularly and I eat normal meals compared to the excessive portions I see in everyday restaurants. The human stomach can only hold so much food; it wasn’t meant to be gorged and distended.
To quote Kin Hubbard: The alimentary canal is 32 feet long. You control only the first 3 inches of it. Control it well.
If I eat the way my family demands, I have no doubt I will gain weight and eventually become diabetic. So forgive me if I fill my plate with steamed vegetables and eat one piece of chicken instead of 3. And be gentle and forgiving if I refuse ice cream after dinner. I am not ill; I am trying to be well.
There is nothing wrong with feeling empowered when you control your body in a healthy way. I am a capable adult and I’m tired of being bullied by magazines AND family, caught in a tug-o-war match between two extremes. How do I balance on this rail?
|Monday, June 21st, 2004|
|Great googly moogly!
I can't believe it's been 4 months since I updated. I need to be better about doing this.
I've been sticking to my running regimen and I've added weight lifting to the mix.
When I was younger, my mother used to spend hours at the gym lifting weights. She is not a tiny woman; 5’10 and statuesque. As a kid, I thought she looked like an action hero and I admired her muscles. Graceful, strong, indestructible Mom. Dad loved it too and he lifted weights with her. It was an 80’s craze.
I would like to feel that way about my own body. I have a big birthday coming up soon and I don’t want to be a complacent, squishy-torsoed housewife. I despise the chubby, pale, Josh Groban/John Tesh-listening women who have hair and nail appointments every week. They eat low-carb food and swear by the Atkins diet but still manage to carry an apple-shaped physique because they don’t actually exercise.
Yes, I eat. I eat meat, fat, cheese and sugar. But I exercise to be sure the fuel is used correctly by my body.
After lifting for 3 weeks, my arms are beginning to show some definition. I’ve moved quickly from lifting 8 pounds to 12 pounds for free-form bicep curls. The gym coordinator says I have the "best form of any woman lifting in the gym." That makes me feel good.
I have a deeply aggressive side to my personality. I used to be self-destructive in college and I sought counseling to try to "fix" my mindset. The counselor took one look at me and asked "Do you exercise?" I said no. She advised that I should find a sport I like; running, volleyball, anything...and then throw myself into it. If I feel self-destructive, I should go running instead of self-injuring.
Running and weight lifting became my saving grace in college. There is something visceral and animalistic about feeling your muscles strain against a heavy weight.
I’d forgotten that until recently. The trainers at the gym suggested I do more arm exercises because I run about 10 miles per week but I hadn’t been doing arm work. Now I’m lifting for both arms and legs. I don’t worry about bulking up because strength training is healthy and estrogen doesn’t allow for the same amount of muscle-building that men can achieve with weightlifting. Too many women are obsessed with having toothpick arms. I want toned arms; I want a strong handshake and lean, defined arms with real biceps. I want veins in my forearms. My ancestors are Vikings; why not live up to it?
I will post some photos soon.
|Thursday, February 12th, 2004|
I've been alternating running with riding a bike over the past several weeks.
Running was terrible when I started but now I'm beginning to enjoy it. I don't get horribly sore anymore. Today I ran 2.25 miles in 24 minutes, burning 280 calories according to the machine.
I'm getting a monitor soon to keep track of my heart rate. It was up to 180 today and I need to keep it down around 160-170 to effectively work without burning myself out. But the running felt so good. I hope this is not just a fluke, but a continuing state of mind and body.
|Monday, January 19th, 2004|
|Minimum intake, maximum output
Long time, no see.
Well, LJ...I'm back on the exercise horse. My office opened a gym for employees only and I've been taking advantage of it to the fullest. I didn't want to write about it until now because I wasn't sure if I could stick to it. But it's been over a month now and I’m still going regularly, riding, running and sweating. It's easier to do at work because I have limited books or other distracting materials around me. And I get to work early in the morning so I can go then or during lunch.
My body hums for an hour after a good workout, shaky and satisfied with muscle fatigue. I have lost 3 pounds. It's not much but slow and steady is better than too much at one time. Also I know fat turns to muscle over time so my shape will change even if my weight doesn't alter much. When spring comes, I'll be able to ride my bicycle again without getting sore.
I've also taken up snowshoeing and outdoor photography just for fun.
While I've been away, I got hitched, bought a house and started living domestically. I think these changes are to the good and I have a more positive attitude.
|Tuesday, September 2nd, 2003|
I went to the Renaissance Faire this weekend. I took out my bodice and skirt from last year to wear again. When I put them on the bodice gapped around my bust; it's about 2 inches too big. Now I have an excuse to sew a new one.
Also, I've ridden over 500 miles on my bicycle so far this year. Current Mood: accomplished
|Thursday, August 28th, 2003|