Thursday, June 20, 2013

Cooking Will Save the World

It doesn't take a nuclear physicist to figure out that I love to cook.  I love to taste and create and recreate.  I like to make mistakes and fine-tune.  I love scents and textures and how your whole head experiences food.

This, actually, is not what led to me getting diabetes.

I love to cook, but I also love helping people and teaching and watching people develop and identifying and owning projects - this is actually what gave me diabetes.

Because the job I had that let me do all of these things ate my entire life.  I worked sixty to eighty hour weeks and would barely have energy left to eat large amounts of deep fried catastrophes from whatever fast food place  was most convenient and pass out. 

I had this job for almost four years.

Then, I got recruited for a new job that sounded almost too good to be true.  Work at home for a rapidly growing company!  They loved what I did at my old job and wanted me to do the same for them.

While it didn't turn out to be exactly as advertised, it wasn't far off the mark.

It was a total life changer.  If it's ever offered up, I highly recommend working at home.  I'm more efficient at home, which equates to fewer hours worked.  My coworkers are a mixture of names on my screen and my husband and pets.

The other benefit of working at home is cooking. 

Jamie Oliver, famous British chef and real-food advocate, gave a Ted Talk (available on Netflix) about the importance of cooking in people's lives.  He correctly identified how cooking has fallen out of the typical American life - which is directly related to the shortened life spans of the last three generations.  He connected obesity related diseases/death all the way back to teaching kids to cook and eat properly in school.  He also cried for social responsibility of fast-food restaurants and grocery stores.


So, I was basically killing myself with eating catastrophic disgusting sludge.  My body knew the difference as soon as I started making three meals a day out of healthy, fresh ingredients.  I mean, there was a lot of damage to clean up - but it was a start.

Then, BAM!  Diabetes.

I thought I was out of the game because of diabetes.  I was so irate at food because cooking was one of my great loves.  It was like, just when I got started again, it all ended.

So, yes.  I've had to deal with my white flour and sugar addiction.  Yes, that super-sucked.  But, once the physical addiction is gone, it's not so hard.  And the love of cooking comes back.  Just, differently.

Kevin Smith once talked about why Clerks was so much better a movie than Mallrats.  With Clerks, budget gave them constrictions, which forced them to think creatively.  With Mallrats, they were given tons of money.  A problem came up, they just threw some money at it.

Diabetes has done the same to me.  It's easy to make something with lots of carbs taste delicious (or at least pretty good).  My meal planning has had to become much more creative so I can feel satisfied. 

When I went to my diabetes classes (3 hours a week for 3 weeks!), they taught us about label reading and eating out.  When faced with those options, diabetes is a difficult life to live.  However, when we covered amounts of carbs in typical cooking ingredients and fruits and vegetables, I realized how easy this was going to be.

Yes, if all you do is eat in restaurants, drive-throughs, and packaged food, you will probably die of an obesity-related disease - because it's not possible to sustain yourself indefinitely.  You will break and over-eat because healthful amounts of that garbage are incredibly small and nutrient light. 

However, I don't feel deprived by the food I cook.  I'm also able to eat nutritious food that my body needs.  I'm able to have my senses be over-loaded by spice and aroma instead of chemicals.

I found my spark again.  It's pretty tasty.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

AMA Declares Chubby Chicks Diseased!!!

So, according to Leslie Kinzel of XOJane, the AMA (American Medical Association) has officially declared obesity a disease.

The goal behind the declaration is to remove the stigma around obesity and to convince doctors to treat the patient rather than just telling the patient, "If you'd just lose some weight, your life would be amazing and all problems would end."

Unfortunately for most of us, obesity was a choice (or series of choices) that lead you down a hole, you may have to deal with it.  I acknowledge some people have influences outside of their control that affect their weight, but that's not the case for most of us.  If obesity is a disease, maybe it's one of the mind (and mental health has its own set of socio-political rants).

I'm not saying that, because we're fat, we don't have basic human rights, deserve respect, and shouldn't be viewed as fully realized human beings.  I'm not saying we should pay more to see a movie, have higher insurance rates, or be guilted into losing weight (unless you actually want to).  However, we have to have some accountability.  While a disease is basically just an abnormal body condition (which does make obesity a disease), by calling it such we're allowing people to use the label as an excuse for their lives.  I'm struggling to see the positive side of the AMA ruling.

Here's the other part: Calling something a disease doesn't make it better in anyone's eyes.  Lepers are diseased.  People with herpes sores are diseased.  It's perfectly acceptable in society to look at the diseased with disgust.  They already do that to fat people.  If it's a disease, that just adds another layer of stigma to our condition.

I am a fat woman.  Fat is an adjective, but the primary word in the sentence is woman.  I'm a fat human.  Fat, yes.  But, primarily human.  By categorizing fat as a disease, we're just putting the spotlight on it, rather than the person behind it.

I am a woman.  I am a fat woman, an outgoing woman, a creative woman, a loving woman, and a lovely woman.

Even being obese and having diabetes, I don't consider myself a diseased woman.

My Lungs Feel Awesome!

I got out and walked today.  It's a crucial step in this whole diabetes thing.  I need to move.

I live a sedentary life.  I have a small apartment with cats and guinea pigs (no having to take those guys for walks!), I work at home, and my favorite activities are not extreme (unless you count extreme hanging out).

Even though I've lost weight, that's been a matter of diet change.  It's only going to take me so far.  Also, exercise makes my insulin more effective.

However, it sucks.

Plus, there's never a good time.  I mean, I work second shift and my neighborhood is the teensiest bit shady.  I could wake up early, but I like staying up late.

I've got a ton of excuses.

But all they are, are excuses.  I mean, it sucks and I'd rather spend time doing other things, but my body - the human body - wasn't made to sit around all of the time.  That's what causes them to get gummed up with disease and grossness.

So, this morning.  Got up earlier than usual and went to the farmer's market - which is way less crowded on Wednesdays! - to get a bunch of veggies so I could keep up my low-carb routine.  While that's not really exercise, it's more than just sitting around.

Then, I took my first lunch break since I got out of the hospital and took a walk around the neighborhood.  And it was uncomfortable, and the sun was bright, and I shouldn't have worn flip-flops.

But, you know.  I feel good.  My lungs feel good, my muscles feel like they're carbonated (in a good way).  I checked my sugar only a couple of hours post-food, and it's 104.  That's awesome.

I can't take a break every day.  I may not even be able to hit 5,000 steps every day (which is the minimum recommended amount, but you should really get 10,000 steps per day).  However, I can find some way to incorporate activity into each day.  I have to.  It's that or die.

Or be dramatic.


Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Fat Chicks Totally Get Laid

So, one of my best buddies is a thick girl.  Like, she's not an in-betweenie; she's a full-on plus size lady.  However, she has never had a lack of male and female attention (she's straight, but so cute that the ladies can't help but try).
Girl has gotten mad laid, and the guys interested in her are HOT (like, damn, that boy is FOINNNE!).
Until I met my husband, I never experienced that. 
I mean, I'd get the occasional suitor who I had little to no interest in.  But, nothing I wanted any part of.  I always attributed it to my girth, but I look at her - who has dates pretty much every week and is hit on daily - and question that. 
So, when I was a little fattie, I got crushes on boys just like every other girl did.  However, if the boys I liked ever found out I was interested, they were so disgusted (how many times do I have to ask you to CRY FOR ME - dammit!?!).  Through the years, I learned to never express interest in anyone.  Whenever someone did end up getting a hint that I was interested, I'd deny to the ends of the earth.
And I think that's it.  I never really learned the flirting stuff.  When I finally would express interest, it was done all weird and creepy-like. 
(me, being weird and creepy to the camera)

When Jon and I met, all rules went out the window.  I mean, I was totally creepy the first time we tried to date and completely ice the second time, but he was persistent enough to get through that.

But, it's not a woman's body that keeps men in or out of her bed, it's her.  It's everything about her.  My friend - regardless of her fluctuating size - has people doting on her continually.  She knows how to tilt her head, be cute, flutter eyelashes, put her hand on guy's shoulders - all of that stuff.  She knows how to wear sex like it's body spray.  She doesn't put up walls, and she uses her feminine wiles enough that they're not dusty or stiff from disuse.  Lessons I probably could have used in my single years.

Now that I'm married, I have more sex than I know what to do with.  So, maybe my awkward courting was more effective than I give it credit for.

Plus, he doesn't mind when I creepy flirt.  He maybe prefers it.

Fake Fat Lady Phenomenon

There's been a lot of talk in the last year of Hollywood's new acceptance of fat people, citing the popularity of actresses like Rebel Wilson and Melissa McCarthy.

I call shenanigans.

While those actresses may have the lead role in several major studio films, they represent a fraction of a percent of working actresses. We have two major actresses in a sea of thousands who are supposed to represent 64% of American women who are overweight or obese.

OK, so maybe this is supposed to be exciting because it's an increase in women of size over previous years.  However, just from my memory, we've always had a few plus-size stars.

Hell, Oprah Winfrey is one of the most powerful women in the world!!!

Maybe the idea behind the phenomena is that these plus-sized superstars is that they're being viewed as sexual, fully realized characters.  Women who have the same wants and needs as any of their smaller counterparts. 
Instead, these ladies play goofy punch lines to their own jokes.  They both play characters that are so far removed from reality and represent the view society has of fat women: creepy girls who crush unattainably, masculine women, and women who are ridiculously over-confident.
Sometimes, I think Gwyneth Paltrow was a better fat role-model in Shallow Hal than what we're seeing in popular film today.
That is not to say that media is devoid of positive, full-figured females.  We see them in shows like Drop Dead Diva on Lifetime, starring Brooke Elliott and Margaret Cho or in indie films like disFigured about an anorexic and obese woman who become friends.
These women showcase characters who have sex, get flirted with, and deal with themselves as humans.  Of course, there is fantasy involved - it's fiction.  But they don't use their bodies as a prop for a comedy routine.
While I appreciate any representation of women of size in media, it would be nice if the percentages more accurately mirrored the population they were mimicking and the characters played had some basis in reality.  I don't begrudge Rebel Wilson and Melissa McCarthy their work, but instead would love to see them portrayed in a more positive light.
This isn't an explosion of fat acceptance.  However, now that we have some women of size becoming more powerful in media, it could be.

Monday, June 17, 2013

Gurl, How You Keep Your Carbs So Low?

I've hesitated to post about this.  Mostly because I have deep shame regarding my diabetes.  It's like saying my weight out loud.  However, I went to the doctor this week.

The good news: I'm down 15 pounds from my last visit.  The bad news: It wasn't 30 pounds.

I wanted to be doing so much better.  I mean, yes - 15 pounds is great.  It's a decline.  But it's such a small dent in such a big number I still have to lose. 

And I know it's my fault - like, totally.  I should be adding exercise into the mix, and I haven't.

I hate obsessing and shaming myself over this.  Six months ago, I wasn't freaking out about my weight.  I was accepting my size and realizing my body was no one else's concern.  I was learning to love me.  And I still know that.  But, I have these creepers of self-hate and shame that have been crawling through my brain ever since the diabetes diagnosis.  How could you have let yourself get so out of control?  How are you so unhealthy?  You don't even look human.

I hate that I have this shame infection instead of just dealing with the disease. 

However, let's focus on the positive - I lost fifteen pounds in a few weeks.  That's cool.  Also, my blood sugar is super under control and I may be able to get off insulin in the future with further weight loss.  That's my goal.  That, and getting in shape for swim suit season.

Just kidding about the swim suit season.  Haha! 

The biggest thing I'm doing to keep my sugar down is eating fewer carbs than the dietician suggested.  Where they told me to eat 45 - 60 per meal, I try to keep it down to about 30.

It's actually not hard.  Not really.  Non-starchy vegetables.

Non-starchy vegetables are normally 5 - 10 grams of carbs per cup (cooked vs. uncooked).  If you follow the diabetic exchange, they're free.  I say fuck that noise.  I count every carb in my mouth. 

Broiled, sautéed, boiled, raw, salad - I eat tons of veggies.  I fill up on veggies and have some fish or chicken.

Slowly, my cravings for other foods are calming down.  Of course, I've backslid.  Of course.

After I wake up with a carb hangover, I start the day with a measured cup of barley flakes or Greek yogurt and get back on track.

I mean, what's the alternative?  Losing my toes to diabetes?  Losing my life?

Whatever.  Veggies fo' life, yo.

Why I Love Drag Queens

I have body dysmorphia.

It's not surprising.  I'm fat, and I've been fat most of my life.  I was also on diets through my childhood (pudgy little seven year old Trudy didn't understand why she couldn't have a PopTart, or why she was taken to a dietician, or why she had to have blood work done - CRY FOR ME, dammit!).

Whenever I pass by a mirror, I'm instantly shocked by what I see.  Yes, it's me, but still surprising.

Blah blah blah, pop psychology, blah - I don't feel at home in the body I inhabit.  When I was younger (maybe even just a few days younger), I had fantasies of taking a pair of scissors and cutting off my belly rolls and arm fat.

The image of me in my brain doesn't match what I see in pictures or the mirror.  It's not hugely different.  Well, it is, but only when you take the word huge literally.  Drop about 200 pounds, and that's the real me.  That, and better hair and less oily skin. 

RuPaul said, "You're born naked.  The rest is drag." That totally rings true.  The me inside doesn't match the me the world sees.  Inside, I'm a powerful woman.  I put the POW in powerful.  Outside, I'm a disgusting mass of cellulite, scars, and stretch marks.  Rarely does someone see past the physical to the sexy, flirty, funny, smart, and enticing WOMAN inside.  So, you pile on the costume that will help the rest of the world understand what you are inside.

Fat women are completely desexualized (except by fetishists) in society to the point of not even being viewed as women.  In order to have the feminine label applied to them, they need to take it to the extreme and caricaturize womanhood.  Big boobs, big hair, lots of makeup - that's a fat WOMAN.  Otherwise, we're just fat.

Enter, the drag queen.  While queens can be fishy (which just means hard to distinguish for one who was born a woman, for those not in the know), they do not aim to be mistaken for women.  They are in-between, painting the image of a woman in broad sweeps (BROAD sweeps - hahahahaha!) across their bodies. 

In most circles of gay culture, they are not even sexualized.  Gay men love men.  Drag highlights the most feminine parts of femininity.  Get it?

Most drag queens were outcasts growing up.  They have the same longing/outcast/picked on stories as any fat girl.  Unrequited love, no friends, wanting to be anyone other than who they were.

So, you know, I can relate.

Instead of turning that shared background into a big pile of sad (like most fat women), drag queens get fierce.  They are great role models for big girls.

Also, drag is an area where being thick doesn't mean being less-than.  Some of the best, funniest, positive, and most loved queens are the larger ladies (can I hear it for LaTRICE ROYale?).

Lastly, and this is important, drag queens have the best beauty tips.  I don't mean you should be painting your face like a queen (for a daytime look), but they know what products last, how to blend, how to highlight and contour, and how to use their face like a canvas.  They know what clothes will be most flattering and how to give the impression of an hourglass figure. 

I love drag queens because I am a drag queen.

I'm just super fishy.

In Which the Boy Does Not Offer the Girl His Jacket

I was sitting on a log next to the boy I was crushing on, and shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked.  I looked coyly from under my lashes and nodded at him.  He took his coat off and slipped it onto my arms.  I pulled myself into the warm boy-smell and smiled at him.

"Won't you be cold?" I asked, knowing he would never get his jacket back from me.  He just smiled in return.

So, that classic teenage girl moment never happened to me.  I mean, I sat on logs with boys, but no one ever offered me a coat.  And I'm sure it's not because they weren't raised right.  I'm fairly certain it's because we both knew the coat wouldn't fit.

Being a fat has huge, obvious obstacles that block girls from living in a Dawson's Creek type world.  I mean, boys don't automatically think you're hot (though you'd be surprised at how many still do - fer reals), it takes more spiked punch to get you ridiculously drunk at the prom, you can't fit out the window of the basement where you're trapped after being kidnapped by a jealous peer, etc.  The list goes on!

One of the more minor issues is that other people's clothes don't fit.  Not just the guy's jacket, but your best friend's jeans, the largest cheerleading uniform, or your rival's awesome dress that she doesn't deserve (am I watching too many teen movies?).  No one's clothes will fit you.

That's simple, you say.  Just befriend another fatty, you say.  Well, yes.  Of course we're whales that herd together for protection.  But you'll get an occasional friendly (or best friendly) dolphin who has amazing taste in clothes.  I mean skinny girl.  Not dolphin.  Dolphins don't wear clothes.  At most, they have, like, blow-hole dangles or shell flipper piercings, right?

But, the skinny girl is all, "It's one size fits all," or,  "It's kind of loose on me.  I'm sure it will fit," or, "I love dolphins!"

I don't know if it's an attempt at kindness or cruel size-blindness that causes people to see you as smaller than you are.  However, it never fits. 

The boyfriend's jacket looks like a sausage casing on you and won't button.  The baggy band t-shirt that your BFF wears to bed shows every bulge and roll.  The dress fits you like a leg warmer.

Instead, fat girls plan ahead.  We don't talk about it, and we don't tell you, but we think in eventualities.  We carry our own hoodie in the spring and fall in case it gets cold.  We might have an extra t-shirt in our car in case we spill something on ourselves.  We start shopping for prom a year ahead or make our own dress instead of waiting for the great sales in April.

And, if we don't plan ahead, we suffer in silence.  We shiver on the log, never mentioning how cold we are.  We wear our t-shirt with the coffee stain down the front and pretend we don't care.  We bitterly envy our best friend's awesome dress that - if it fit - she'd totally let us borrow (because she's that cool, which is why she's our best friend).

We can't even rely on other fatties to borrow clothes from because, even though not everyone notices this, we're not all the same size.  Even though my size 24 friend can commiserate and has similar experiences, we can't share clothes, either.

I did, at the age of sixteen, have a best friend who wore the same size as me (for a few months until I was smaller than her, then a year later, I was bigger than she was - hello weight fluctuations!).  Unfortunately, as sweet and nice and generous as that girl was, she could not dress.  She was a Laura Ashley girl, and I was more of an Angela Chase type (points for those of you who catch the reference).

I did take all of her old jeans, though.  She thought they were ruined when the knees wore out. 

I told you - she couldn't dress for shit.

Like I said, it's not a huge issue, but it's one of those little annoying ones that you almost never notice.  It's just part of how being fat infiltrates your life and leaves it's mark on everything.  And there's no fix.  I mean, yes - there's weight loss, though there are a billion issues behind even suggesting that as a solution, and isn't even an option for some people - along with the understanding that some people will only get so small.  There's fat acceptance, but that changes only perceptions when a lot of the problems are concrete reality issues - like measurable, physical issues: clothes fitting, activities being fat-(un)friendly, chairs breaking.  THINGS.

Anyway, the point of this wasn't to rant, but instead to make you feel sorry for me because I never stole my boyfriend's coat. 

The End.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

The 90's Are Back - Wait, They Left?

Alright, so we all know that fashion (and fatshion) are cyclical.  What comes around goes around comes around again.  Plaid, I-don't-give-a-fuck-style, and boot-cuts are resurfacing. We find the natural color palate, bright red lip, and darker burgundy gracing faces. 

While these trends are being ushered back in, the resurgence of gawdy colors and styles that defined the 80's and early 2000's are fading away.

Here's the thing - I was class of 1997.  I'm back in my comfort zone.

Sort of.  One of the huge changes I've noticed between 1995 and 2013 is that there are so many more choices for plus-sizes.  (With a few exceptions) Most plus-size specialty stores aren't quite fashion-forward (fatshion forward?), but choices! So, my 2013 fashion flash-back is exactly what my fatty, teenaged self would have wished for.

SimplyBe is one of the most fatshion-forward online retailers out there.  Their clothes come in American sizes 10 - 32 (admittedly, way fewer options above size 28 or below size 12), and are aimed at women below 40.  I mean, older women can totally wear this stuff, but that's not their core market.  Hell, I'm on the very outer edges of their market, and I'm in my thirties.

So, these are my top 90's inspired options from SimplyBe.

First up, this Contrasting Collar number.  I'm pretty sure Courtney Love wore this exact dress back when she was hanging off Kurt's arm at award ceremonies.  Or in flop houses.  Whichever.

I may have actually owned this dress in high school.  If not me, then it was Angela Chase in My So-Called Life.

Shirley Manson, of Garbage, would have definitely stepped on stage in this.  You know, if she put on 20 pounds.

MaryJanes to go with nearly anything.

 Or maybe some flowered hightops?
But, these are what I actually sported.  Pretty close.

And of course, over everything, you throw this...

Next, 90's makeup refreshers.  Matte and brown everything, anyone?

DIY Seasalt Spray vs. Straight Hair

So, seasalt spray - it's a thing, now. It's supposed to give you beachy, mermaid-y hair.

Here's the challenge - me. My straight as a pin, fine hair.

Also, my el-cheapo tendencies.

So, I looked online for ratios to DIY some spray. Easy-peasy. 1 cup water, 2 tbls sea salt, 5-6 drops essential oil of choice (I used the oil mixture I came up with this spring that smells like an orange blossom). Shake and dig an empty spray bottle out of your trash (I used my L'Oreal Kids Tangle Tamer bottle - it smells like Sweet Pear!) and put the mixture in.

There are a bunch of different ways to use it, (wet hair, dry hair, braid it, blow-dry it, etc.) but basically, you spray it in and let it dry. 

So, I dried, sprayed, and let dry.

Verdict?  It's... Wavy. Not as much as I'd like, but you know. You take what you can get.  Also, my scalp doesn't feel icky.

What's more interesting is the texture.  Gritty, a little thicker than normal.  When (if) my hair gets longer, this is a definite benefit when I want to pull it up/back. My hair moves, it's got some hold, and more body and texture.

Is it a miracle working product?  Nope.  But I dig it.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Clothing Sizes and Changing Rooms

I'm coming to a problem, that won't really seem like a problem to most people.

I've lost weight.  Now, I'm still grossly, morbidly obese - so my weight loss wouldn't be noticeable to most people.  However, the fit of my clothes is decidedly noticeable to me.  My jeans are all saggy-assed and likely to fall down, my dresses billow unbecomingly.  My panties fall down inside of my jeans and pool in my crotch.

(By the by, crotch is the filthiest word.  I hate it and love it all at once.)

Normally, the idea of getting new clothes is great.  Sort of.  I mean, there is the whole spending money thing.  However, buying new clothes in a smaller size - I mean, what lady can't get behind that.

However, my problem is that I don't like trying on clothes, and I have no idea what size I wear.

So, here are some options:

  • Buy clothes in three different sizes and take back the ones that don't fit
  • Measure myself meticulously and buy my clothes online after reading lots of reviews on fit
  • Eyeball the clothes at the store and get depressed at home when it doesn't fit
  • Don't buy clothes because I'm still losing weight
OK, so Trudy - why don't you just try on the clothes at the store?

That's a valid question.  I mean, why don't I?

Full length mirrors.  I keep them out of my house.  I know that a full-length mirror is supposed to be a girl's best friend and most honest critic, but when you already can't stand the sight of yourself you don't need the criticism. 

As is, I can barely stand the sight of myself dressed, let alone undressed in harsh lighting.  I don't need to see my dimples, stretch marks, and lumpy fat.  My mind already fills in the blanks sufficiently.

Marianne, of XOJane and Fatshionista fame, recently desensitized herself to the mirror's effect by forcing herself to look into it for some extended period per day.  Basically, it's like saying a word over and over again until it has no meaning and is just a collection of sounds.

Maybe I can turn my body into a collection of colors and shapes instead of the physical representation depression, disgust, and disease.

Maybe I can turn my body into a collection of sounds.  Echo, echo, echo.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

My Quest for Hypoglycemia

Somewhere in my sick little brainpan, a twisted idea as taken hold.

I want low blood sugar.

Not lower.


I want to feel dizzy and pass out. It's like that will somehow convince the doctors that I'm not actually diabetic; that it was some wacky mistake. Everyone shake your head bemused while the laugh track plays. Fade out to commercial.

It's to this end that I eat fewer carbs than my dietician recommends. This is why I allow myself cheat days; to give me the willpower to deprive myself throughout the rest of the week.

And it's not like I'm not eating. I'm just not eating enough.

Even still, I can't get my blood sugar below 70. The closest I've gotten is 73, and even then I felt like I was going to pass out. Hell, I feel like that in the 80's. 

I think I've discovered a new meal to feed that twisted desire, though. Something that gets me into the 80's after just a couple hours of having eaten.

Miso soup. So simple. Why didn't I think of it earlier? Even with a handful of broccoli and tofu added, three cups of it comes in under 20 grams of carbs. And I dare you to eat more than that. I'm an eater, and I can't.

Miso Soup 1 Serving
2 cups water
1 handful broccoli (or other hardy vegetable)
Three green onions, chopped
2 tbls miso paste
2 oz extra firm tofu

Boil the water with broccoli for 5 minutes. Take away from heat and stir in the miso until dissolved. Add the rest of the ingredients. Put back on heat and boil fr an additional minute. Garnish with nori, if desired.

So, that's my new plan. Eat miso until I pass out and convince the doctors that they pinned diabetes on the wrong fat girl.

It's a winner, fersher.

Money - and the Lack of Money - Sucks (the life out of life)

I was always taught that you never discuss finances with people. You always pick up the check. Never let people know you can't afford things.

As a result, I'm a mess with money. Here's the another problem - my husband was brought up the exact same way.

I don't buy it, anymore. My mother was wrong. If we don't discuss money, we don't know how to use it properly. I mean, yeah - it's gauche. The alternative is finding yourself in a cycle of debt. The only people who have the luxury of living with that kind of financial silence are those with the wisdom to be born wealthy.

So, I make a decent, middle-class living as a call center supervisor. Somehow, we are always broke. I know single moms who make about half of what I do, and have a savings account. I struggle to keep my balance above $0.

I know all of the tips. I worked at a bank, for god's sake! I taught people how to correctly budget and save. We've tried tracking every single purchase on a spreadsheet, giving ourselves allowances, and putting together a budget before I get paid. It doesn't matter.

Add in medical bills, up-coming student loan payments for Jon, and just trying to get caught up on debt. It's so overwhelming. Things like someday buying a house, moving out of state, or just getting a new apartment seem so out of reach.

So, this is a third problem - even though I make the money, I don't spend the money. I don't buy groceries or pay bills or anything. I don't splurge on meals out, buying clothes, or anything. Jon does our household finances. He also has struggled with impulse control and wanting things he doesn't need (that he's seriously made progress with). Because the amount of money in our accounts constantly declines, I get panicky and feel out of control.

My relationship with money is a mirror to my relationship with food; it's feast or famine. I can make $10 last for a week, and $500 can disappear in a day. Maybe as I learn to control my eating, I'll be able to make some headway on my finances.

Maybe I'll have a savings before I'm 40.

When Menstrual Cycles Attack

So, something that a lot of people don't know is that, sometimes when you're really fat, you don't have a period.

So, being fat isn't all bad stuff!

It's caused by all sorts of fat by-products.  Either I've dropped enough weight or my thyroid medicine is the cause, but I've spent the last few days in a near hemorrhage.

So, here is a list of what's awesome about being a geyser of uterine lining that never sleeps.

  • I've gotten intimately acquainted with my bed.
  • I have a reason to buy a new set of sheets. (Seriously, it's like a murder scene)
  • I have an excuse to be both irritable and weepy.
  • Explaining bloodstains is a conversation starter.
  • I have looked the other way when chocolate found its way to my mouth.

Obviously, I missed my period immensely and am so glad it's back.