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Susan

writer, memoirist, foodie

The Lure of Biggest Loser

I basically turn my nose up at many reality TV shows, but I am a total sucker for The Biggest Loser, (and also Top Chef).

This season of Biggest Loser started out in a really uplifting and heartwarming way. People on this season were “the biggest ever,” meaning some upwards of 400 lbs. But everyone seemed to be earnestly working hard and rooting for each other.  There was a hint of Bad Attitude before, but last night it really hit the fan. It was so bad. People fighting and screaming and such. It was really unpleasant.

I have been most interested in the medical aspects of this show; the guys on the Black team who don’t look SO bad, until you look at their body scans. The doctors present their transparent body scans next to one of a “normal” body. They point out the enormous pockets and layers of fat, and this one guy whose lungs have been pushed up into the shape of orange slices, rather than full length lungs, because he has so much abdominal fat pushing up from below.

This is something I have long been afraid of: that if somebody opened up my body and removed my heart, it would be this slippery butterball. And that the truth about my diet will be out.

I guess the blood test was one way that I got a little insight into my insides. Which was a hard truth.

Anyway, 3 weeks into The Biggest Loser, the guy with no lungs goes back to the doctor and the doc gets rid of ALL OF HIS MEDS (10 pills per day) except one (he didn’t say which one). I was rather shocked at that. Was he really at normal levels for EVERYthing after 3 weeks, or was that doctor practicing really irresponsible medicine?

Speaking of medicine. I am taking a certain drug, Lisinopril, for my high blood pressure. One of the side effects of this medicine is a tickly, dry, super annoying cough. Last night I feel like I was coughing all night. I have had this cough for over a year. Before, I was on something called Diovan, which had NO side effects, but my health insurance changed, and suddenly Lisinopril was $3/bottle while Diovan costs $90.  It’s not rocket science, but it’s annoying.

Anyway, I hope that if I can lose enough weight I can stop taking this BP medicine altogether, and my cough will go away.

Some nice news: I have lost about 4-5 lbs since last week.

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Food That Works

Today was overall a good food day, after my bad start with the scary numbers (I haven’t re-tested). But I did have a bit of an internal tantrum when I went grocery shopping later in the morning. I almost cried when I saw a magazine cover with a luscious photo of macaroni and cheese (“the comfort food issue”). I found myself gazing longingly at the bread. I ended up buying a loaf of artisan olive bread to go with the soup I was going to make for company.

I made Brazilian black bean soup for friends who came for lunch. It disappeared INSTANTLY and we all agreed it was the best black bean soup EVER.  I topped it with nonfat sour cream and it was just so good. I did have a slice of the olive bread with some olive/walnut tapenade I got at the farmers market yesterday. I have no idea if this was a terrible thing to do, or not so bad.

For dinner, I made this sundried tomato/goat cheese/basil chicken from Kalyn’s Kitchen. I was a bit nervous about trying something new, and a little worried about Picky Eating daughter, but everyone in my family LOVED it. I also stir fried some asparagus with lemon/artichoke pesto. It was gooooood.

So everything tasted delicious today. My only “slip” was the olive bread. I felt grateful to find things that I could really enjoy eating.

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#*&@&! Numbers

I’ve been a very good girl since Saturday. Vigorous long walks, not a single simple carb or sugared anything have passed my lips. Proteins, and veggies!  I was feeling quite proud of myself.

Hubby gave me the very romantic gift of a home blood glucose testing kit. (I hinted that I wanted one) So this morning, before my coffee, I decided to take it for a test drive. I read the little booklet, got it all calibrated, stabbed myself in the finger and voila!  …

167.

I think I actually yelled “Shit!” just as my mother entered the kitchen. 

He said it was wrong, it had to be wrong. But those big black numbers just kept flashing up at me. I was filled with a sudden dread. What if I did everything right, was a very very good patient, and the numbers got WORSE? I mean, MUCH worse? (because 167 is wayyyyyyy over the diagnostic number of 125)

I’ve been very grumpy ever since. He thinks it’s a mistake. He says, “and if it’s true, we just treat it.” As if it is a simple thing. On one level maybe it is but the swirl of emotions that is running through me says it is NOT. SIMPLE. AT ALL.

Bleah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

More numbers: not surprisingly, my blood pressure was quite high after this blood testing debacle.

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Scare Tactics

I love certain kinds of foods so much. Mostly carbs and dairy products. I could easily give up sugar, chocolate, alcohol, meat. But the combination of carbs and dairy – ie wheat and cheese – are like heroin to me. Macaroni and cheese. Grilled cheese. Quesadillas. Pizza. Any kind of bread-and-cheese combo is good. Potatoes and butter. And sour cream. Mmmmm.

I also love rice. My mother made steamed white rice nearly every day of my childhood, and continues now. It is hard to resist. How will I resist?

I’ll tell you how. I did not eat one simple carb today. I saw the bread sitting on the counter. I saw the rice cooker half full of rice, and the leftover phad thai in the refrigerator. How did I not even want to eat it? I scared the crap out of myself.

Everytime I looked at something that could possible raise my blood sugar at all, I visualized a needle. With insulin. Going into my soft, tender skin. When I felt the hint of a temptation, I raised the stakes and imagined amputated feet and legs. This was not hard because I used to be a physical therapist and was actually an expert at wrapping lower-extremity stumps. The cause for 99% of these amputations was diabetes. I could take it even further and visualize blindness, which is one of my greatest fears. I’d gladly give up my legs to save my eyes.

But hopefully if I can keep focused around these, none of these things will be realities in my life.

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Two Selves, Fighting

I just got back from a long, gimpy walk in the woods. One leg is super tight and sore from doing a lot of very steep stair and hill workout this week. The other side has some sort of pulled groin muscle. So I was moving pretty slowly. But I was glad I went. It gave me a lot of time to contemplate things. I thought of about twenty blog posts while I was out there.

I’ve been down this road many a time, where I swear to focus and eat right and exercise and the whole thing. And once I make that decision, usually from sort of numerical wake-up call (the scale, or blood tests, or blood pressure, all of which have given me BAD numbers) I am generally pretty ON it. But then I drift away from that eventually, and I am back in the land of “I don’t want to think about it” until something forces me to.

I really do believe there is something to that whole “Ignorance is bliss” thing. Part of me really violently resists the idea of being AWARE, and of having to pay attention to this stuff. In fact it makes me want to have a freaking TANTRUM. I want to just live my life, and eat whatever I feel like, and don’t tell me what to do!!!I almost ripped my radio out of my car because I get so enraged listening to that frickin Allison Janney and her Kaiser “Thrive” commercials. They sounded so smarmy and finger-wagging. “Put down the ice cream, and have some nice broccoli! Get off the couch, and go for a walk!” Even if I agreed with stuff she was saying, even if I WANTED to go for a walk, listening to someone tell me I HAD to just got me into this very defiant, pissed off mood. 

I know that when I’m in the whole “paying attention” mode I tend to look back on my “not paying attention” self with a lot of disgust, disdain and shame. There’s like zero compassion there. And when I’m in my “la la la la I’m not paying attention” mode, I tend to look at my other mode as rigid, restrictive, punishing, anal and neurotic. There’s just no winning and there’s no seeing eye to eye. It’s a little bit like the Middle East; the chances for peace seem very fragile.

I know that I am about to enter a phase of paying attention. (which is funny because when I set up this blog, I was going to be coming at it from the OTHER perspective) I hope that I will be able to do it without totally hating that self that I’ve been for the past year or so.

1

Wake-Up Call

I thought about starting this blog a few days ago. I set it up yesterday. During this time, the things I imagined I would write have changed dramatically.

On Thursday, two days ago, I went in to the lab to get some bloodwork done. This at the urging of my physician husband who has been “concerned” about my health. Which brought up huge Feelings in me, because I felt all resentful and indignant that he would be “concerned” about me when I am only about 20 lbs overweight rather than like 100 lbs overweight. It made me feel pathologized and messed up and criticized for nothing.

So that was one part of the whole complicated story. But this morning he came to me with the results in hand. They were not good. Bottom line: my good cholesterol is too low, my bad cholesterol is too high, and I am 2 blood sugar points away from being officially diabetic. (123, and diabetic is 125)

Last time I got these measured I was about 10 lbs less, and was exercising more and doing a modified sort of South Beach thing.

But somewhere in the year or two since then, I started having this “fuck it” attitude and angry about having to change or modify or restrict my diet. The weight came back and well, here I am.

It’s hard. It’s hard. But I think I have sufficiently woken up.

Two of my favorite TV shows are “The Biggest Loser” and “Top Chef.” Ha. SO what does that say?

My lifelong “relationship” with food and my body have been SO fraught, and complicated, and struggly. I started this blog in order to help deal with the struggles.

Please please do not give me  diet advice. I am hoping that people who read this blog will be able to relate to my struggles on some level, and there can be some solidarity, and some way to deal with all of it.

SO here I am. Two days ago, I was all defiant and resentful. Today I am staring that 123 number in the face. I can’t forget the expression he had when he pointed to that number and said, “You were fasting? Really?” And the way his shoulders slumped when I nodded.

I also think I sort of came to this myself, a little bit. On Tuesday I was supposed to write, but had to put it off until the afternoon. My lunch included a lot of (white) rice. In the afternoon I was so tired and out of it I couldn’t even think. I was going to joke that this is what my husband calls “Postprandial Fatigue.” I googled PPF and realized one, it fit my description perfectly and two, that it is a #1 symptom of Metabolic Syndrome, which is what I guess I have. It sort of stunned me because I thought PPF happened to EVERYbody, including normal people. But apparently not. I’ve been mulling on that one for the past few days too.

When I was pregnant with my 2nd daughter, I got gestational diabetes (which puts one at risk for regular diabetes later; I guess it is knocking at my door now). I was able to test my blood and to stop eating sugar like right away and it was no hardship because I was doing it for my baby’s sake.

I hope I am able to make good changes for my own sake now. But I can tell you it is going to be an emotional ride.

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the world of secret blogging

Hi people. I have been struggling with food, my body, and my relationship to both for a long time. There is so much I want to say but don’t feel I have a safe place to express these things. I am hoping that this will be the place.

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