Showing posts with label orthorexia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orthorexia. Show all posts

Friday, April 1, 2022

Fat Friday: Finding Balance

 


Balance is one of those things that I struggle with. I tend to have an all-or-nothing approach to pretty much, well, everything. It is deeply ingrained for me to criticize myself harshly regarding my imbalanced nature. I need to stop and remind myself that I am just now learning certain things that I should have learned a long time ago.

I am going to discuss physical exercise, which is a bone of contention for many of us because we have been scolded for not working out well enough, hard enough, long enough, or for not having achieved significant weight loss through exercise. While you are welcome to share your own experiences, I will not tolerate pro-weight loss commentary or body shaming. 

It is fine to mention that your parents, gym coach, personal trainer, or such body-shamed you and this led to an obsession with weight. It is not okay to say "yes, but if you just adhere to the Nuts and Bolts Lemonade Cleanse Cabbage Soup Diet while working out for six hours a day, you too could lose your unsightly fat!" Fuck right off with that shit. Also, saying things like, "well, it's fine as long as you're not THAT fat. If you weigh X pounds, that's okay. But if you weigh more than X pounds, that's unhealthy, teh obeeeeesiteee, blah blah blah," yeah yeah yeah, heard it all before. Fuck off with that shit too.

All the above shit does is sabotage any desire to exercise or engage in eating a nutritious, balanced diet. When I say "diet," I don't mean dieting for weight loss, I simply mean the food one eats. There is only one diet that I endorse, and that's the Fuck It Diet. I'll put a link at the end of the post.

I'm actually fairly careful with my diet because I'm diabetic. I'm not able to be as careful as I'd like to be because most of my food comes from the food bank. I would prefer to eat more vegetables, but I'm working with what I have. I am not better than someone who isn't in a place where they're able to eat a balanced diet or someone who is struggling with an eating disorder. I am not a lesser person than someone who can eat a perfectly satiating plant-based diet. I'd probably have to hire a chef to make that happen, and if I'm having to get my food from the food bank, hiring a chef isn't high on my list of things to do right now.

I have difficulty coming to grips with exercise. It isn't that I don't like to exercise, but I'm no longer able to do many of the things that I used to do. I also have that shitty voice in my head that tells me if I'm not able to run like a racehorse for miles while interspersing jumping jacks and other high-octane maneuvers and then lifting weights for an hour, well, what the fuck am I even doing? 

This kind of all-or-nothing thinking is toxic and leads people to stop exercising.

Diet culture fucking sucks. One of my missions in this life is to keep pointing that out until people finally start getting it. 

Eating "too much junk food" does NOT cause a person to develop diabetes. Being "too fat" does not cause a person to develop diabetes. The only thing that causes diabetes is having a genetic vulnerability to diabetes. It is likely that I would have developed diabetes eventually even if I ate the perfect diet and was the so-called "perfect" weight for my height. The rest of my endocrine system is a trash fire, so it was coming. However, I might have been able to stave it off for a few more years if I hadn't been in a constant state of food insecurity, because of poverty and self-inflicted food shortage, aka dieting. 

Dieting changes a person's body but not in the ways that the multi-billion dollar diet industry tells us. It fucks our metabolism. Eventually, the chronic dieter can no longer lose weight even when they adhere to an extremely restrictive plan.

I have my abusive life partner ED (Eating Disorder) under wraps most of the time, so we're not going to discuss him right now. Instead, I'm going to concentrate on discussing my struggles with exercise. 

In the early 90s following a difficult pregnancy and emergency c-section, while at the same time having severe food poisoning (campylobacter,) my body was torn up, and I was physically weak. I was ashamed of the way I looked and ashamed that I couldn't even push the pedals on the exercise bike hard enough to keep the display screen on. I enrolled at 24 Hour Fitness. 

Instead of suggesting that I concentrate on rebuilding my strength and endurance and advising me not to worry about the number on the scale, the focus was all on getting me back to my pre-pregnancy body. 

Stepping back in time for a moment, when I was taken to the OR to undergo an emergency c-section, the technician or nurse comforted me with the knowledge that I would be able to wear a bikini again because I would receive a horizontal incision. Even as obsessed with my appearance as I was at 25, I found this ludicrous. I couldn't have given a fuck less about being able to wear a bikini again. My child and I were going to die if he wasn't born, stat. 

Even in that horrible moment, the sexist attitudes that make prioritizing the idea of being able to wear a fucking bikini again during an obstetric emergency even a remote possibility enraged me. Above all else, women are to be pleasing to the male gaze. Is any woman who doesn't measure up to the Photoshopped and pornified standards of men's magazines even a woman?

Forward to today. I am struggling with the extremist attitudes that have been ingrained in my brain regarding exercise. Once I am finally able to make myself do a little workout, it's so psychologically taxing that I avoid it until I can psych or shame myself into doing it again. 

I know that it is important for people with ADHD to develop a schedule, so I "should" just schedule a certain time of day when I work out, right? Why not right after I get up and take my meds?

Not so fast, Sunshine. It's not quite that easy. I can't eat for a minimum of a half-hour after taking my thyroid medicine. 

Well, couldn't I just work out on an empty stomach?

Not if I don't want to risk tanking my blood sugar. I don't enjoy having to re-regulate things when my blood sugar is too high or in the toilet. The last time my blood sugar crashed I literally thought that I was on my way out and I was too drained to give a fuck. I forced myself to eat the world's most uninspiring sandwich and a packet of Bel-Vita breakfast biscuits and I didn't even inject any insulin. When I got home, I measured my blood sugar, and it was only 134. That's how depleted I'd been. So no, exercising on an empty stomach isn't an option.

Well, why not exercise right after breakfast?

Because I need to let the food digest a bit. Have you ever exercised right after a meal? Blergh. 

Okay, well, wait an hour and then exercise.

This is a good idea. The problem is, I'm usually into a project by then and don't want to lose my hot streak. Plus, I'm fighting the voice in my head that tells me if I can't be EXTREME, then what is even the sense?

I have to start low and slow. I have to give myself permission to realize that even five minutes is a triumph. Yes, I used to spend five hours a day at the gym on days that I didn't have to work. I'm not exaggerating. That's called orthorexia, and it isn't a good thing. I missed chunks of my son's early childhood because of it, and people still considered me "too fat." 

Body dysmorphia and all-or-nothing attitudes are something that I will have to combat for the rest of my life. I have mostly accepted the reality that I will always be heavy unless I become terminally ill the way my great-grandmother did. Since I still have plenty of damage to do, I'd prefer that not happen anytime soon, so the size-shamers can just kiss my fat ass. There's work to be done. 

Spirit of the Universe, please help me keep fighting my negative programming and society's hateful attitudes towards larger people. Please help me remember that my worth is not tied to a number on a scale and that good health, while desirable, is not a measure of personal value. Please help me to encourage those who may be fighting a similar battle. Amen.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

The only diet books you will ever need.

The Fuck It Diet

Health At Every Size


Free Use Image from Open Clipart Vectors
Fat and Ornery


Free Use Image from Pixabay
Hangry says "fuck dieting."








The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp and Naughty Netherworld Press.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. Odysee’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on Odysee. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Come check out Readers Roost, the online book store featuring works by indie and small press authors. Discover your next great read at the Roost! It's the link you need when you wanna read.

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Saturday, March 5, 2022

Blow Your Stack Saturday: Welcome to Whitewashed Utopia

 


Today's prompt from 52 Weeks of Writing was "hey, Ornery, it's Blow Your Stack Saturday! Is there anything you want to bitch about?"

Okay, that was my interpretation of today's prompt, and yes, there is.

I recently fell down the syrupy Hallmark channel rabbit hole and have been watching Cedar Cove. Like so many romantic visions of television utopia, this one has a seedy underbelly. By seedy underbelly, I don't mean that Walter White has set up a meth lab or there is a prostitution ring. I mean that behind the perfect facade of perfect people in a perfect town there is some perfectly putrid prejudice that nobody wants you to notice.

Cedar Cove is the whitest place anywhere. I have not seen a single non-white person even in passing. Everyone is straight and attractive by Hollywood standards. Look all you want, you will see none of those unsightly disabled or fat people. Disabled people simply don't exist and fat people are a bugbear used to scare the Perfectly Pretty Able-Bodied White Straight populace into earning their eating-disordered binges through orthorexia.

Shows like Cedar Cove are the television equivalent of the ladies' magazines you see at the checkout stand in the grocery store. These initially appear to be innocuous fluff but they are actually fronts for insidious attitudes designed to keep impressionable women buying products to keep themselves looking impossibly young and girlishly thin. Do you want to eat a slice of that delicious cake on the cover? Better get ready to force yourself to vomit, take a few laxatives, and engage in a few hours of punishing exercise, you slovenly oinker!

The photoshopped cover models for such magazines have no lines on their faces, no stretch marks on their bodies, and not an ounce of fat. Any model deemed too dark-complexioned has their skin tone lightened. These magazines are chock full of "inspiring" stories of women who lost half their body weight on the latest fad diet. Never mind if you have to cut out entire nutrient groups on these diets and never mind that weight reduction dieting only works long term in approximately five percent of dieters. You don't want to be a bad fatty and not try yet again, do you?

I used to spend a fortune on these dreadful magazines hoping that I was going to finally find THE DIET that was going to work permanently so I didn't have to be ugly anymore. Approximately twelve years ago I realized that the messages these magazines promote are even uglier than I am. I raise my middle finger to the beauty, diet, and fashion industries. Fuck a whole lot of that shit. 

Spirit of the Universe, please help me accept myself as I am. Please help me to keep making improvements that will truly benefit me rather than trying to fit someone else's idea of what I'm supposed to be. Amen.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~





Fat and Ornery
Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors


Hangry isn't having it.
Free use image from Pixabay

Fabulous selfie of my actual middle finger by me.
You can't touch this.
It's not like I really care that much, it's just that I know that most people are cunts.









Resource Books:
52 Weeks of Writing

Self-Help Sucks

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp and Naughty Netherworld Press.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. Odysee’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on Odysee. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Come check out Readers Roost, the online book store featuring works by indie and small press authors. Discover your next great read at the Roost! It's the link you need when you wanna read.

Buy me a coffee

Or buy me a coffee here

Join me on Patreon!
Subscribe for as little as $1 per month.

Get the latest literary happenings and slices of life in your inbox! Now with a poem or chapter from an unpublished WIP every month. You may find yourself in possession of a sanity-scarring eldritch horror or fabulous rarity that would otherwise be relegated to the dustbin of history!




Saturday, November 16, 2019

November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 10: Tyranny of Perfection


so I got to thinking
what if Death 
isn't a grim dude in a black hood
but is instead
an annoyingly perfect and perfectionistic
aerobics instructor
who chirps at you
that it's time to do your cardi-oh-oh
and when you do those leg lifts
you've gotta squeeze those glutes
because if you don't squeeze 'em
no-one else will
and I kind of got to thinking
what if I don't want my life
to revolve around whether or not
some dudebro wants to
play grab-ass with me
and then that chipper death
chirped at me that I
need to mind my carbs and calories
because fat is the very worst thing
that a person can possibly be
and then I got to thinking
that maybe that's not true
that in fact the worst thing a person
can possibly be
is a sanctimonious twat
who refuses to respect
other people's lives and conditions and preferences
and bodily autonomy
and who really can just fuck off
and then I got to wondering 
if maybe that's the way Death works
is by annoying people to death
by making them fight all day every day
with vicious inner voices
that tell them they're no good
because they have dimpled thighs
or chunky butts
or saggy boobs
or tummy rolls
or they just aren't perky-werky enough
and then I got to thinking 
that maybe what happens
is people get tired 
of hearing Death's annoying voice
bleating at them to get up and at 'em
because nobody who isn't perfect
deserves to have a life
and so they smash the snooze bar
on their internal clock
one too many times
in an attempt to shut the annoying bitch up
once and for all

~Cie~

Notes:
Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked for a (blank) of (blank) poem. I initially went with "hands of time," which is how I found the image of the perky aerobics instructor looking lady with her watch. I started thinking about all the years and time and money I spent trying to hate myself thin, and it really pissed me off that the message people (especially women) are sent from the moment we draw breath isn't "take care of yourself because you are worthwhile regardless of your size or looks," it's "if you girls aren't thin and pretty in a very specific way, you are garbage and don't deserve happiness." 

So, I changed the title of my poem to Tyranny of Perfection and wrote about what it feels like to fight with the hateful internal dialogue that has been crammed down my throat for as long as I can remember. It would be nice to be able to just BE, without having to fight with these horrible messages from the cradle to the grave. Doing so is the biggest fucking waste of time and a waste of a perfectly good life too.












Friday, November 8, 2019

Fat Friday #16: Would I Have Gotten This Fat Without the "Help" of Diet Culture?

Diet Culture:
It makes about this much sense
And actually believes this shit


A response to this post on Dances With Fat.

I will admit to wondering at times whether I would have gotten as big as I did if I hadn't fallen into diet culture's clutches when I was just a kid. I became bulimic at twelve. I would see those ads for Ayds candy in my mother's magazines. Does anyone else remember these things? They were chocolate caramels with lidocaine in them. I bought a box of them once as an adult. They didn't work, by the way. Shocker, I know.
I have a myriad of endocrine problems, but I still wonder if I would have kept gaining weight or had ravenous cravings for food or alternated between binge eating and restricting food if it hadn't been for diet culture. I do know that it's internalized fatphobia that there's a part of my psyche which says: "you might not be this fat if you hadn't started dieting." Logically, I know that the number on the scale doesn't matter. I don't even own a scale. But I also wonder if my overall health wouldn't be better if I'd given diet culture a miss. 
Orthorexia caused me a few problems which have come back to haunt me in my middle years. I'm trying to rebuild my strength and stamina without making weight loss part of the equation. It isn't easy and I get no support for my efforts at all. If you aren't trying to lose weight, you will find no cheerleaders for any other efforts relating to physical fitness or overall health.
I also tend not to mention any efforts I may be making, because the first thing people say is something like: "keep it up and you'll start dropping those pounds in no time!"
Like, no, Asshole. Whether I lose any weight or not is not important to me. Fuck right off with that shit. Obsession with weight has only impacted my health negatively. Kindly stop trying to kill me.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~