The Further Adventures of Deluzy

The quest for protein = too many calories?

That prioritizing of protein doesn't have to lead to overeating, of course, but a recent post on one of the boards drew my attention to the issue. The poster felt as if she might be using a goal of 80-120 grams of protein a day to eat more calories than she had to, and that she might do just as well with fewer calories and a slightly lower protein count that's acceptable but at the lower end of that range.

I'd been thinking about exactly the same issue recently in terms of my own intake: I do tend to come in around 120 grams of protein a day now, but I'm also eating between 1,800-2,000 calories a day -- and I think that if I were a tad more disciplined, I could lower the calorie count, maintain a high level of protein, and still not feel deprived by those changes.

(Every DSer is different, and every DSer's results are different. Some say they didn't get this surgery so that they would have to be on a diet for the rest of their lives, but I got this surgery so that 1) I'd minimize my risks of dying an early death from my myriad comorbidities; 2) maximize my chances of success at weight loss and maintenance over time. I didn't get this surgery to have to diet ... Huh???? My eating has changed radically since surgery -- I might as well change it in a such a way that will optimize my results but also allow me a semblance of normal eating. Emphasis on semblance and normal, mind you, not on eating the way I used to eat.)

So today has been an experiment. For the time being I've swapped my Zone Perfect protein bars (which I find delicious but which have a 16 grams of protein/22 grams of carb ratio) for Pure Protein bars -- with the latter, the ratio tends to be more like 32 grams of protein to 5 net carbs, depending on the flavor. That's a no-brainer for a DS patient if the taste is at all tolerable. I've had two of the Pure Protein bar flavors so far (cookie and cream and I forget what else), and today I'm trying the blueberry, and they're -- okay. Not fabulous (they have a hello-I'me-in-training-for-a-sports-event kind of thing about them) but in fact my numbers are good today: 27 grams of carbs, 110 grams of protein, and 1,059 calories. I'll probably have a Lindt Lindor truffle later tonight as a treat, but that won't jack things up by much -- and I'm full and satisfied.

So it can be done. Rather easily and with only a little thought. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to think so much about what I'm eating, but of course when I didn't think, I was morbidly obese and thinking about how fat I was, so it's a trade-off, as are so many things in life.

Labels: Food

What literary heroine are you?

Which Classic Female Literary Character Are you?

You're Jane Eyre of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte! Take this quiz! Quizilla | Join

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Of course I'm Jane Eyre. It's my favorite novel on the face of the planet, and I taught it this term. I teach it as often as possible!

(I stole this quiz from Sharon, by the way. She's Elizabeth Bennet. Thanks, Sharon!)

Labels: Fun

Seismic emotional activity

I've been reading various discussion boards and blogs (DS- and general weight-loss-related), and I've been talking with friends in the past several weeks who are going through a lot of changes that aren't related to weight -- and I'm profoundly struck by the amount of change and angst I see in the lives of those around me. A number of friends in different situations, from different backgrounds, of varying degrees of closeness to me, seem to be facing major life issues right now. Is it the phase of the moon ...?

Maybe it's the age. Most, though not all, of my friends are in their late 30s to late 40s (with me right there in the middle), and most, though not all, are encountering tectonic plate shifts in the very foundations of their lives -- particularly in terms of their own self-concepts and relationships. Part of this is probably about reaching a certain point in life and figuring out how we got there: for better or worse, life probably hasn't turned out exactly the way we planned when we were younger. It might actually be better. It might be worse. It might simply be different, and we're now coming face to face with the choices we've made in our lives and their ramifications.

Sometimes the catalyst for such introspection and moments of epiphany is dramatic weight loss. Stats indicate that at least 50% of partnerships break up following weight-loss surgery (a stat which is rendered somewhat meaningless out of context if you consider that one out of two marriages ends in divorce in this country nowadays --> perhaps a relationship that ends would have done so anyway, given enough time, without WLS as a factor; another stressor might have come along eventually).

But it's true that losing large amounts of weight can be not unlike an archaeological expedition: what surfaces as weight comes off is often any number of unexpected discoveries, and they're not all pleasant or convenient or attractive. Feelings and desires -- those we condone and those that horrify us -- can come crowding to the top and overwhelm not only us but those around us. Hard enough to navigate through them ourselves, but then to deal with others in our lives who are having their own reactions to what we're experiencing -- and not always in a supportive way??? We're raw and unpolished and awkward with our new feelings and desires; we don't always know how to behave appropriately, what to act on, what to do or say. Even when we think we do, we often don't, and we can create messes that are hard to clean up.

My own belief is that any significant life change can have a similar catalyzing effect on the ways we think about ourselves and our relationship. Any dramatic shift of circumstance can shine a sort of klieg light on a relationship, or (to mix metaphors) function as an x-ray that reveals hidden stress lines that may be fundamental to a relationship but that have gone unnoticed or been glossed over or never even acknowledged. Sometimes the cracks are too deep, too profound to be mended. Self-knowledge is an essential but risky endeavor, with no guarantees at the end.

One of my own critical moments of shift and change came when my mother died of cancer when I was 26 years old. We were not close, but I took a term off school to become her primary caretaker, and when she died and I returned to my life as a student, I had no trouble -- at first. There were psychic rumblings beneath the surface, but I was so relieved to be done with hospitals and sick rooms and suffering that I didn't notice. Or I chose not to. Then, a little over a year later, depression and despair paid a visit, sat on my doorstep, and wouldn't leave, and my life and sense of self as I knew them shattered. I was not who I thought I was; my past was a horror; and it took the better part of 10 years for me to put myself back together again. More accurately. it took me almost a decade to reinvent myself with the raw materials I discovered in therapy.

At the time I was deeply, profoundly resentful that I had to go through this process. Why was I experiencing a radical destabilization of self when those around me seemed to be pulling their lives together? They were laying down the foundations of satisfying careers, forming relationships, getting married, some were even having children ... as I plodded alone in my own private hell that I tried desperately to camouflage, only partly successfully, from the world. I had no marriage that would suffer, no children to be concerned about -- and those things added to my loneliness and bitterness.

But in the last few years, and in the past few weeks in particular, I've been recalling what my therapist from that period of my life told me -- which was essentially that, as much as I didn't believe it then, one day I would be glad that, if I had to go through such a wrenching exploration of my relationships and my psyche, at least it was occurring in my mid-20s to mid-30s. Other people might experience analogous situations at older ages, and the disruption might be that much more severe, the consequences that much more devastating, for the delay.

And so it's with a sense of gratitude that I write this, because my therapist was right. I would not have willingly chosen to endure that 10-year period and face what I faced -- but given that I did, I'm profoundly grateful for the self-awareness and self-knowledge it gave me. I'm still a neurotic mess and always will be on some level, but given the me I was back the, prior to going through adult hell, I can't imagine going through the profound changes that the DS can initiate without having come through that hell and moved beyond it.

I so often wish that I had managed to find a partner and make a life with him earlier than I did, that we'd had enough time to be together as a couple and then decide if we wanted children, that I'd gotten my career path straightened out when I was supposed to. I always feel as if I'm running late -- about 10 years too late.

But given who I was then, I would not have been able to pick the husband I picked six years ago. I would not have been able to be a strong, capable, confident partner for him or for myself. I would not have picked a man with whom I feel sexually, intellectually, and emotionally secure. I would have continued to believe that every Cathy has her Heathcliff and I would have wrecked myself in the name of an idea of love that shipwrecks many people (gay men and women in particular -- I think of my brilliant, beautiful friend N who romanticized the most ordinary [not even!] men, only to come down to earth hard when, say, the biker/poet turned out to be not a sexual soulmate but an abuser who distributed bruises as if they were kisses).

So I am grateful today to know who I am, despite the cost that finding out exacted. I don't always like the me I know myself to be, but I respect her and accept her, and I try to do my very best by her, even when she pisses me off.

Labels: Gratitude, Head-trips

I just filed two sets of grades

Yay me!! Semester grades for one university are due tomorrow, and I actually finished grading my graduate seminar and large undergraduate class papers in a timely fashion. I spent some time this morning and afternoon calculating term grades and then went online to file them with the assistance (if that's what you can call it) of the revised PeopleSoft program (the three universities I've taught at this year all use a version of it, though it's customized somewhat differently at each institution). The biggest glitch in the program, if you ask me, is the flakiness of the "save" function: half the time when you hit that key, you get a "processing" message on the screen, only to discover a couple of minutes later that it hasn't saved shit. Very irritating, particularly at the end of a term when faculty are working under deadlines and feeling stressed out in the first place. But it sure does beat the days when we had to fill out little bubbles on scantron-type forms and submit hard copies. This way, at least, one can submit grades from wherever one finds oneself; about three years ago over Christmas break, I submitted grades from my friend David's apartment in Paris at 1:00 a.m., sipping a delicious sidecar.

It hasn't sunk in that this rather hellacious academic year -- consisting of getting and recovering from the DS, learning to live with it, a rapid-fire trip to Tokyo for a conference (which was wonderful but exhausting), and teaching more than full time -- is winding down. I have a week and a half more of teaching at the elite university, but there are only four students in that class, they're all smart, and grading will be a snap. Yup, I can see the finish line -- and it looks good.

Waiting on the official verdict in the job search now ... that's still an outstanding issue.

Labels: Academia

Stockings and sexy scanties

Uh-oh. I'm discovering a new obsession, and it's sexy legware.

Never mind that my legs are not sexy. They're short, stubby, and beginning to look as baggy as a bull-dog's face these days. Never mind that we're moving into summer here in California and I will not be wearing pantyhose or stockings or anything else in that vein. (I didn't say I was practical, I said I was obsessed.) I went online last night to check out what my options might be, and I ended up buying two pairs of thigh-high stockings (for entirely too much money, I might add) from Stockings Only, which is a kind of wonderful site. I chose a lovely black and red lace-patterned pair (I love lace, I love flowers, I love black and red, and this pair seemed to have it all-- as if my thighs are going to look like that in them, but nver mind).

And then I also picked out another pair that were more subtle, in nude with another lovely lace pattern at the top. As I was ordering the stockings, my husband walked into my study where I was on the computer, and when he saw what I was doing, he smiled and then started to chuckle. I think he's enjoying the fact that his wife, who's pretty much sported tights, granny undies, and sensible bras most of the time because that's what fit and felt comfortable, is now exploring lingerie!

For a single mad moment I considered buying a garter belt as well but the plain fact of the matter is, while I'd enjoy wearing thigh-highs and can camouflage the sagging belly with carefully chosen underwear, I know I'd hate the feel of a garter belt over my loose stomach. This is, after all, about me, my own likes and dislikes, and feeling sexy for me; it's not about anyone else, though of course if my husband ends up enjoying the benefits, that's fine, too. So garter belts are out -- frankly, though I know they're considered sexy, they remind me of my mother and grandmother. Not a sexy thought, not for me.

I discovered another really wonderful stockings site as well, though I didn't purchase anything from it. It's Alexis4U, a site that specializes in genuine vintage stockings, and it's actually kind of fascinating to click through it and see what they offer -- brands I'd seen only in old films, older-style lingerie. I might have to revisit that site when I'm smaller.

This way madness lies, of course. I have such a jumble of things in my drawers now: granny underpants, beautiful lace-and-satin boy short underpants, sensible bras, beautiful bras. None of it matches, and it's all in different sizes.

Oh well. I figure a little splurging and exploration are good for me.

Labels: Fashion

What kind of soul are you?

You Are a Visionary Soul

You are a curious person, always in a state of awareness. Connected to all things spiritual, you are very connected to your soul. You are wise and bright: able to reason and be reasonable. Occasionally, you get quite depressed and have dark feelings. You have great vision and can be very insightful. In fact, you are often profound in a way that surprises yourself. Visionary souls like you can be the best type of friend. You are intuitive, understanding, sympathetic, and a good healer. Souls you are most compatible with: Old Soul and Peacemaker Soul

Hmm. Well, as Hemingway said, "It's pretty to think so"! It's flattering, certainly. I'd like to be this kind of person, but methinks I have a bit of evolution ahead of me in order to to actually become it ...

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Labels: Fun

Carbs n' me

Hmm. Well, this the pattern that I'm noticing with myself in recent days: as a pre-op carb addict, I've done just fine with limiting my carbs post-op to under 100 grams a day (which is the number that I picked for myself). Mostly I've been bring them in around 70-80 grams. I'm off all diabetes meds, and I've lost about 60% of my excess weight in 5 months. But when I've set a goal of about 60 grams of carbs a day for myself, that seems to set me off, and I end up eating nearer 100 grams or sometimes going over that. In other words, lowering my carbs further seems to trigger over-eating on my part.

Clearly this is a psychological issue for me, but I need to take that into account and arrive at a plan that works for me. I've been so impressed by other people on the DS boards who've been able to restrict their carbs to really, really low numbers and achieve amazing weight loss results -- but I'm sensing that the ultra-low carb approach really will not work for me -- not if it triggers over-consumption on my part: then it's just counter-productive.

All of which leads me to the realization (once again) that while there are certainly some general principles that we DSers must follow (e.g., high protein, low carb, supplements, exercise, etc.), there's no single path toward our respective end-points. Or maybe there's a main path that we all travel, but we might opt to follow a parallel, fainter trail through the woods sometimes to get exactly where we need to go.

It's a constant learning process, isn't it? The moment I think I've gotten the hang of the DS, circumstances change or I discover something new about myself, and I have to adapt accordingly. There's so much more to this journey than losing weight!

(Fortunately, I knew that going into this, and the process is a good one. Challenging but good.)

Labels: Food, Head-trips

Know your beauty

I have Sparkly Jules to thank for telling me about the website Eve's Rib Clothing and so I figure I have her to blame for my spending $50 on this long-sleeved, v-necked brilliant pink cotton t-shirt with Know your beauty emblazoned at an angle on the chest.

"$50!" you exclaim. "For that?! Are you nuts?"

Almost certainly I am, but not because I bought this shirt for that price. If you click on the link to the site, above, you'll discover that a portion of the proceeds go to the National Eating Disorders Clinic (NEDA). It's a good cause. God knows I suffer from the disorder of compulsive emotional eating as well as a screwed-up metabolism.

But that's not even the main reason I bought the shirt, although it was one of them.

No, I bought it because I loved the brightness of the pink, the deep teal of the inscription, and above all, the idea that the shirt expresses. I bought it because it reminded me once again of how lucky I am and of how much I believe in its message.

You see, although I have never enjoyed or felt comfortable in my obesity ... although I eventually hated it for what it was doing to my blood glucose, blood pressure, cholesterol, my joints, and god knows what else ... although I felt awkward and large and uncomfortable and embarrassed by my size sometimes ...

I never hated myself because I was fat.

I hated myself for other reasons, yes. For much of my life I felt as if I were intrinsically damaged goods. My father -- a brilliant and sociopathic child psychologist of the academic variety -- sexually abused me, my mother was too weak and frightened to admit it or stop it, my older brother and sisters sustained their own damage in that household and could not come to my rescue, and I grew up believing that I was simply not lovable enough to care for or be worth the expenditure of effort or energy on anyone's part. I raged my way through my childhood, teen years, and early 20s, and I did not grow up until my mother died of cancer when I was 26.

Two years later I went into therapy, had a nervous breakdown, and came completely, radically unglued. Alison was scattered to hell and gone in a million tiny pieces -- the shattered windowshield of a totaled car had nothing on me. Together, my therapist and I slowly gathered up all the pieces, looked at each shard, and carefully put them all together again with adhesive provided by wrenching self-knowledge, a horrific acceptance of losses sustained and damage done, and the love of my therapist that I internalized and eventually learned to trust and return. I have deep cracks that still show, but they're proof of my strength and the script in which my history is written.

Thank you for breaking my heart,
Thank you for tearing me apart,
Now I've a strong, strong heart.

Through the seven years of therapy I had from 1988-1995, I never really addressed the issue of my weight because, in fact, although I didn't like being fat, I did need the invisibility and protection it gave me. I wasn't prepared to give those things up, and so I wasn't prepared to lose the weight. And I knew that full well. The day would come later when I was ready to relinquish that camouflage -- and after a number of false starts and slippages, that day has come.

But the miracle throughout all of this is, although I tortured myself with a long list of my deficiencies, I did not torture myself over my weight, per se. I was ugly, undesirable, damaged, tainted, flawed, yes -- but I was not a fat, disgusting pig. Somehow, some corner of myself knew that I had used my weight as a buffer and I'd needed it. Food was punishment, food was reward -- but I was separate and distinct from the weight I hid behind.

Not for the first time am I glad, after all, that I have a decided talent for dissociation.

I'm profoundly grateful because now, at this point in my life and my journey, I see posts from some people on both the Weight Watchers boards and those various forums devoted to weight loss surgery who, even after losing their excess weight, truly loathe their former fat selves. They write with varying degrees of pleasure of their transformed bodies, as well they should -- but sometimes the depth of the disgust they feel for their remaining loose skin or for their earlier, larger bodies in old photographs is deeply distressing to me.

The self-loathing is so palpable, their pain so raw, thatI want to reach out to them all and say Know your beauty. For god's sake, know it, own it, flaunt it, nurture it, cherish it, and share it. If you opt for reconstructive surgery and do so out of love and self-respect, I say to you, You go, girl! But if you do so because you still hate that fat girl you see inside yourself, know that she'll still be there no matter how much excess skin is cut away or how much weight you lose. She'll be there, no matter how small you get, until you're able to look at her -- yes, even her -- and say to her, with genuine love and appreciation, Know your beauty.

Labels: Fashion, Head-trips

Spanx Bod-a-Bing! tops and "foundation garments"

First let me say that I have never been someone who's been into "foundation garments." I mean, I didn't even like wearing bras in high school (because I was so uncomfortable with and embarrassed by my body that I would never allow anyone to measure me for an accurate fit). When my older sister suggested a slimming long-line bra (read: modern-day corset) which she herself, as a fat woman, often resorted to in those days, I tried one for about five minutes and couldn't stand it, even though people thought I'd lost weight when I was wearing it. Nor have I ever worn girdles, panty girdles, or anything else. Panty hose, yes (though I'm thinking of trying stockings when my weight drops a little more ... I've always wanted to), but none of that restrictive stuff. Let's face it, nothing was going to change the fact that I was 250-280 pounds.

But now I'm in love with Spanx. I would do an advertisement for Spanx, and the only other products I feel that way about are Extra Strength Excedrin, Coca-Cola (not that I drink it anymore), and the SSRI family of anti-depressants. I first saw Spanx products advertised on QVC, then checked out the Spanx website, and finally saw that both Lane Bryant and Nordstrom carry the line. Spanx has both what they call slimming intimates and slimming apparel and based on my sampling of both in recent days, they're fabulous.

First, Spanx makes things in both regular and plus sizes. I like that about a company. I bought a Power Panty, size 1x, nude, at Lane Bryant last week, and it makes a huge difference in how I feel under light, floaty spring skirts. Prior to my DS, I had rolls of fat, and those are going away now -- but in their place remains loose, jiggly, jello-like skin that moves when I do. I hate that feeling! Furthermore, I have a butt-stomach now, a protruding, rather taut belly on either side of my navel that is apparently not a hernia but simply the result of having had major abdominal surgery on undeveloped abdominal muscles -- there's an area of my saggy, flabby belly that now sticks out in a way it didn't before. Hmm, I didn't expect that, and I find it disconcerting -- so the Power Panty really helps with that.

Given my enthusiasm for the Power Panty, I decided to order one of the Bod-a-Bing! tops from the Spanx website. Given that I'm pear-shaped and have small breasts, I dared to order an XL rather than a 1X (I began my DS journey 5 months ago in a 3-4X), and it arrived today via FedEx. And you know what? It fit! Not only that, but after I shimmied into it, I slowly turned around and faced the mirror ... and my jaw dropped. "Slimming" doesn't begin to describe it. It's smoothing and sleek-making. It gets rid of the "muffin top" look that I'm beginning to develop; and the neckline is cut really well so that it's sexy on top of all of that! The image on the website doesn't begin to do it justice. I'm going right back to order a top in white for my spring and summer clothes.

As someone who has no desire to have reconstructive surgery after I achieve whatever weight loss I'm going to have with the DS, I'm absolutely thrilled to find some viable alternatives that I can live with. I totally understand why folks do choose further surgery, mind you (though I admit that I didn't until I watched a friend go through it a couple of summers ago after she'd lost 200+ pounds), but I really, really don't want to choose it myself unless it becomes necessary for my health. I had a really negative emotional reaction to my DS that brought back old feelings from childhood sexual abuse of being physically invaded and vulnerable, and while I've moved through those feelings now, I don't want to go there again if I can help it.

Now, mind you, I wouldn't wear Spanx products relaxing at home. I like to be totally relaxed and comfortable when I'm lounging by myself or with the kitties or my husband. But when I'm teaching or lecturing? Going out in the evening and want to look particularly nice? Then absolutely I'll wear them and rejoice in the fact that they're comfortable and flexible enough to corrale the flab and let me (but not my skin) move at the same time.

Put it this way: they actually make me feel sexy -- not because the items themselves are sexy (they're great, but they're not sexy) but because I feel sleek and confident and energetic in them. To me that's worth their not inconsiderable sticker price.

Labels: Fashion

Sonofabitch

Warning to self: never get too cocky about knowing html and fooling around with blog templates. Eventually you will have to hit the reset button to eliminate the screwy code you've entered, and all the customization features you want to retain will disappear - poof! -- like that.

Gonna have to re-enter links to other people's blogs, my weight loss and surgery tickers, and so on.

But not right now.

Labels: Technology