Assessed.

Life's fucked-up little moments. Examined.

[assessthis-blog]

Yes.

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[assessthis-blog]

You’re Not Fatter’s

OK. I know I just wrote a post on my recent venture into a low-carb lifestyle. I know I promised to touch on the psyche and the human condition, and I will. Consider this rhetoric involving the psyche expended when engaging in a simple social transaction regarding personal ‘lifestyle’ choices. Let me set the scenario: I gained approximately 15 pounds due to inactivity caused by foot injury and the resultant surgery. I am a girl who was raised with manners and wears her heart on her sleeve. When someone asks me a question, I give them a fucking answer. No one likes to be ignored following a question, so I am simply being polite. The problem then lurks in my reply. The requester, at times, becomes annoyed by my response. They may even take an agitated tone, scoffing at the truthful reply I have given. (More on the outdated practice of common niceties in a future post)

In a recent exchange between myself and an acquaintance, I was heating my lunch in the break room when I was asked, “What’cha eatin’?” To which I replied, “Oh I dunno, some Atkins frozen-meal-thing. I just began the Atkins, and this looked reasonable.” Now, a sensible person may have just said something along the lines of, “I see, well enjoy!” and walked away. That’s it. No additional questioning. No further commentary or prodding. Nothing. Those people (we shall call them Sensibles) are not much use to me, but they are nice enough and the small talk they offer usually breaks the lonely monotony of life. However, the requester in this incident was not a Sensible. Nope. The requester in this exchange happened to be a You’re Not Fatter. (You have to say that in a booming movie announcer-type voice to really get the feels on this)

You’re Not Fatter’s (YNF’s, for short) are a particularly bothersome subspecies of homo erectus. Not only will a YNF genuinely believe they are doing you some big favor by employing ingratiating tactics, they will become annoyed by any attempt made to disagree. For example, we shall begin with the same innocent-sounding question, “What’cha eatin’?,” and instead of the delivery coming from a Sensible, It comes from a YNF. To which the YNF’s question I reply the same as in the preceding example, “Oh I dunno, some Atkins frozen-meal-thing. I just began the Atkins, and this looked reasonable.” YNF’s will never- I repeat- NEVER walk from this opportunity to provide first, a back-handed compliment, and second, their unsolicited (and often lacking empirical evidence) advice, commentary, and the gift of allowing another homo erectus to hear their voice. * insert deadpan expression here*

 So, just like a starving fish in a polluted lake, they take the bait. They reply (gasping), “Oh! Isn’t that diet baaad for you? I mean, all that meat and fat is hardly good for you? Besides, why are yoooou on a diet? You don’t need to lose weight!”

 And to which I internally respond, “Bitch, please.”

The external response is tricky. An individual can get sucked in the YNF vortex never to see the light of day again. I carefully choose my outwardly verbal response replying with, “Meh. My body, my life, my heart disease,” then walk away before I cut a bitch for being so fucking ig’nant. With this example, I provide homo erectus with a valuable Public Service Announcement (PSA): Please do not offer unsolicited advice to grown-ass people and please do not tell persons trying to better themselves they ‘do not need’ to change.

Now, what the fuck was my purpose here, again? scratches head Oh lawd. Yes.

The YNF’s tiresome attempt to fulfill their pitiful little lives with meaning by spreading ‘the good word’ to others.

YNF’s, this next section is for you. And it’s actually meant to serve as a gentle reminder that your seemingly well-intended estimation is unnecessary. In fact it is superlatively annoying as balls. (don’t you love a sentence that has both an intellectual ring, as well as the word balls? of course you don’t, you YNF!)

In order to better serve you, I shall give my ‘people’ their own name: Don’t Give a Fuck’s (DGF’s). We too are sub-species of homo erectus. We too have our well intentions. We too care about the perpetuation of the human race. What separates us? I’d love to say IQ score, but since IQ is derived through a bunch of standardized tests that ignore other human variables (creativity, emotional prowess, etc.) it cannot be. The difference, you see, is WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!!!!

DGF’s do not have this nagging compulsion to tell others what they should or should not be doing. DGF’s are mindful and respectful of other homo erectus’ personal choices. DGF’s truly realize that humans will live how they desire to live, despite any well-intended advice or disingenuous flattery. DGF’s are generally in tune with themselves enough to know when their lifestyle is harmful, and you know what? THEY DON’T GIVE A FUCK. Furthermore, DGF’s do not have to resort to rudimentary tactics such as inserting flattery to get their point across. DGF’s realize that flattery is often a ruse that gets people to respect, listen, or submit to what you have to say- much like the lines used by a used car salesman or a loser looking to pick-up a chick at closing time. Please do realize, sweet YNF’s, that flattery to a DGF’s is as cheap as a camel toe on the street corner. And lastly YNF’s, unless you come with an entire university database worth of empirical evidence to support whatever it is you are about to assert, may I suggest you opine at a minimum.

That is all. I’ll eat what I eat, and you will eat what you eat. And we shall eat together, one judgy bite after another. In peace and ‘til poop do us part.  

  (The Fine Print: If you are a YNF and would like to seek treatment for your condition may I suggest immersing yourself in a pool of DGF’s. Better bring a case of beer; therapy is not free, but freeing!)

[assessthis-blog]

Fatkins

I fully intend on writing mostly about psychological and mentally mindful things in this blog- but I have to take a brief detour. I love the fact that we have a term for the little incident that occurs when one’s blood sugar runs a bit too low: Hangry. See emotions are mental processes, and so this will loosely relate! The same week I decided to start a blog, I also chose to change my diet, which has left me feeling a little, well, hangry. But in the spirit of discussing “real life” and relating it to academic theory, I will begin my posts with a less mind-puzzling matter. If for no other reason it will serve as a basis for my writing style/personality and save anyone being offended in the future. I will also note I have offended many a person in my life, and it’s all good. I still like those people because I have an evolved emotional intelligence. Anyway, intellectual stimulation to come, but my mind is kind of ‘starving’ right now, so this is all I can think about.

Now, I’m not going to start by saying I’m fat. I’m not. But I have gotten a little fluffier in the wake of a bum foot followed by foot surgery to correct said bum foot. I’ve also recently attempted to treat chronic skin issues, which led me to cut gluten and dairy from my diet. Cutting gluten is no big thing, really, with the exception of cost and variety. I don’t necessarily require variety in my diet- or at least I didn’t think I did. I could proverbially have my cake and eat it too with the multitude of new gluten-free products arriving on even Ghetto Walmart shelves. (Listen. I grew up in Detroit. I’m cool with throwing around the word ‘ghetto’. Every Detroit Girl at heart gotta a little ghetto in’a! I digress…) Cutting dairy was tricky. I do not care at all for milk. It is volatile- and this is graphic, but I think of big barn-smelling utters in my mouth every damn time I drink milk. This image is so terrifying, I switched to soy milk decades ago to avoid awkward Cheerio incidents. So, yeah, milk…detestable. But dairy also happens to encompass cheese. And cream, and ice cream, and coffee cream, and crème anything and for the love of all that is holy and sacred why can’t I just have creamy fucking skin so I can eat what I want. hyperventilating

Yeah, so I cut dairy and gluten. My skin looks so much better. I went through some cheese withdraws and then it was like, “I am just going to eat this smoked gouda today because it’s cheat day and I’m not going to the prom tomorrow (I’m almost 40) and it does not matter if I get a ginormous zit. I’m hungry, so queue the fucking cheese fountain cuz mama needs a dip!” Regardless, the cheese plate splurge happens so infrequently that after a month or two I barely missed dairy. jaw drop & gasp

 And that brings us to today.

 I’ve tried Atkins in the early 2000’s, and found it to be challenging due to lack of variety. Since then, more people are taking to the web to document every second of their existence (obviously guilty), thus making it increasingly easier to find recipes to assist with low-carb eating. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to the weird bastard who said, “Gee, lemme take this here head of cauliflower and turn it into breadsticks and pizza!” So, here’s to you, weird bastard, from another weird bastard who had the balls to try it and found the Holy Grail of the low-carb lifestyle. You, said weird bastard, are my New Jesus. bows graciously

 Before I get into this experience, I’m going to set some ground rules for happy blogging:

1. I will ‘lifestyle’ how I choose. I do not desire well-intended advice concerning this or any diet you deem superior. I am a grown-ass woman and I do what I want.

2. You got some low-carb award-winning recipes? Share those bitches cuz New Jesus and His cauliflower breadsticks can only take me so far into the Holy Land.

3. Humor, not hate. thumbs up :)

 I write today in completion of week one, Atkins Phase 1. The deal: I get to eat an entire 18-22 satisfying net carbs (total carbs – fiber and sugar alcohols) daily, the majority of which shall come from veggies. Fat and protein are ‘free’, and thus, equal freedom to eat an entire pig on a spit. Clear alcohol is also pretty much ‘free’, which has been useful in those times you wanna cut a bitch for her fucking saltine. So, bottom line- eat veggies, no more than 22 net carbs per day, eat proteins, and for once in your sad existence enjoy eating fat. Atkins has upped ante by creating a free app (iTunes) allowing for ease of tracking consumption and progress. This alone has made the low-carb process easier since the olden days of Windows XP.

Ok, so armed with my free app (thanks Atkins), my thirst for fitting back into clothes, and my intellectual prowess, I set forth on a mission of survival. In the first 4 days, I lost 1.5 pounds (of 13). I have to do a second weigh in, but am kinda scared as I have not taken a shit in the past 6 days. (and this is where I really have to remind you of the Rules of Happy Blogging, because I, two paragraphs later, am still a grown-ass woman and do what I want.) [[A little time-out and TMI…I never take a shit. I was diagnosed in childhood with IBS and am chronically constipated. I’m used to it. My colon is obviously comfy with it. Perhaps that is a post for a different day, just not this day.]]

Average daily totals for the first week are surprising to me in some ways. First, I consume far less calories eating fat and protein than I did gorging myself on even the healthiest carbs. You get so much more food when you forego carbohydrates. Granted, you grow resentful toward eggs for being “nature’s perfect food.” In fact, if Mother Nature had a freshly polished, classic car parked in her driveway, I’d throw eggs at it because I’m tired of eating her fucking ‘perfect food’. That being said, I averaged about 1200 calories per day. Look people, I’m 5’0” tall. I do not require a lot of calories, and when I am attempting to lose weight, I require even less so STFU. (Can you tell I’ve spent a lifetime dealing with haters hatin’? Don’t worry I full intend to write a series on Freudian Defense Mechanisms, which will explain the origin of the Hater. Now stay on topic, damn it!)

So, 1200 calories average daily. Among those 1200 adventurous calories, I’ve consumed an average of 80 grams of fat and 95 grams of protein. Among the 1200 adventurous calories, I’ve eaten an average of 18 grams of net carbs meaning less carbs than contained in one apple for the entire day. And this brings me to my next point ladies, gentlemen, and gentlepersons: I’M HANGRY AS FUCK.

Sure after downing a plate of eggs, meat, and veggies I’m quite satiated. For like 10 minutes. My body somehow quickly burns through that shit faster than a fat kid running to the front of a buffet line. (I say these things in jest; my entire family struggles with obesity and we were raised to laugh at and with ourselves because life is too fucking short to hate how you were born) So yeah, fat and protein are great fillers, but not as filling as a loaf of bread. Within a couple hours of not eating- which I never recommend going more than 3 hours between nourishment on any regimen- I have turned into a raging, incomprehensible wildebeest. Further, I cannot begin to tell you how mind-consuming the carbs of yesteryear become. Seriously, who the fuck would think strawberry Tiny Toast would make it to the top of my Most Desired Foods list?! (I don’t know who created Tiny Toast at General Mills, but I gotta say…that person for president!)

This diet change has really changed the way I look at food as an energy source. It has changed the way I look at food, period. You see, I’ve struggled in having a love-hate relationship with food my entire life. I grew up with parents who scraped by, so most of our rewards came in caloric form because it brought us together, yet was cheap. Most people I know are unaware of my body dysmorphic and bulimic struggles. It began in freshman year of high school when I thought, like many teens, I was not good enough. In fact, not only will I not be attending the Prom tomorrow at age 39, I did not attend the prom in high school either. A warped sense of self and body image, sculpted by the cruelty of Asinine Teen America, kept me in the back of a classroom with a hoody over my head. Anonymity was a defense against rejection. (See, I told you psychology would creep into seemingly tangential posts!) Enough about that shit, though. I’m almost guaranteeing a post on that topic later. So…waaait for it…

Following an Atkins regimen, even a week in, made me realize I was mentally and physically a sugar junkie. Not any better than my 4 yr old niece, The Juicebox Junkie, as her big sister lovingly calls her. I was allowing sugar to control my life, not just fuel it. I’ll be honest with you; I do not know how long I can endure low-carbing. What I can tell you is I will never stop trying to become a better version of myself, both mentally and physically. Food has been the object of my attention since I was 15. By the time I hit my early 20’s I forced my brothers hand to write a disparaging note to myself in an effort not to run to the fridge for comfort. (see picture above) Sadly, I still have this note, and while it still makes me chuckle- first because the jerk actually agreed with little arm-twisting, and second because it’s just entertaining to me for some reason- it also makes me feel a little sad. Meaning, I have probably focused more of my life’s energy on thinking about and consuming food, than I have enjoying life itself. Who knows, perhaps this Fatkins will find the courage to turn hanger into happy? In the meantime, I shall take another fork-stab at correcting unhealthy eating habits and hope to be one bite closer to completeness. (Or self-actualization to throw one last psych term at ya before I go.) smile and wink

 Until we meet again, Tiny Toast and the Land of Sweet Benevolence!

 [***disclaimer*** The views, statements, and assertions firstly expressed and secondly perceived by you, are solely based on the writers personal experience, and are independent of compensation, monetary or otherwise. In other words, I paid for my own damn box of General Mills Tiny Toast and took advantage of Atkins’ offering of a free iPhone app simply because I can and I wanted to. ‘Merica!]