Hmmm. Muscle stuff

Or that's what I assume.

Way back in April (April 16), I participated in the city-wide trash-off day. The next day, and the day after, my right hip was very sore. I figured it was a pulled muscle, and waited for it to get better.

Then it briefly got better, I thought "maybe it was just a muscle cramp," and went back to regular activity. Then it got worse again.

It's still not really "better."

I think I may keep re-stressing it. For one thing, I have a bad tendency, when I'm at home, to slouch and "sit the wrong way" in my big chair (it's wide enough that I can sit with my legs tucked up under me, or sit "sideways" - with my back against one arm of the chair and my legs hanging over the other one). It's also, I'm discovering, not the best-made chair ever, and it's showing its ten years of wear (the upholstery is wearing thin in spots, and also, it feels like the support in the back of the chair is not what it once was).

Then, for a while, I thought the hip stuff was maybe arthritis. It SEEMED to get better with exercise, at least for a while, and then got worse overnight.

(Is there anything worse than having pain when you're trying to sleep? Especially pain where you can find NO sleep position that remains comfortable and have to wake up and move every couple hours)

But, I kept dutifully exercising, because, as I said, I thought maybe it was arthritis. And this is a whole body-issue thing for me: "It's your fault, in part, if you have arthritis now" I thought "You have been too big since you were a teenager." And of course, the fact that my annual checkup is coming very soon doesn't help. (Though at this point, there's little I could do, short of fasting, to lose any weight).

I didn't exercise yesterday because it was super-humid first thing in the morning and I just couldn't face doing it. And then as the day wore on, I got too busy to pick it back up. (I was on my feet for a couple hours invigilating an exam)

And then, last night - my back hurt less. I was actually able to sleep comfortably for more than a couple hours at a time. And it's noticeably better when I got up this morning. (Earlier, the muscle almost felt - "Burnt" is the only adjective that comes to mind, it felt like when you get a bad cooking burn or steam burn on your knuckle, only in the muscle - tight, stiff, and, like I said, "burnt.")

So I decided to go another day without working out and see what happens. And again, body issues - part of my brain is screaming at me for not working out, but another part is screaming back that I'm hurt, that if I were sick and throwing up or if I had had to (say) have stitches on a cut on my leg, I'd not be exercising.

So I don't know. (And no, I haven't gone to a doctor. The last time I went to a GP down here for a totally weight-unrelated issue, they asked me if I wanted them to prescribe me a weight-loss drug. I was REALLY offended, and also kind of hurt - do I REALLY look that fat? Then I learned a lot of the general-practice docs here apparently have sidelines in "bariatrics," so they have a vested interest in getting patients in for that kind of maintenance. But still. Makes me not want to go back to a doctor. I go to an allergist here who is pretty sane about it, but most of my other doctors are actually the ones I saw back up in Illinois. Even though I have to pay for the check-ups myself instead of my insurance paying for them. Because I don't want to have to bolster my damn self-esteem after every checkup. And if I ever DO see another doctor down here? It will DEFINITELY NOT be one who lists "bariatrics" among their specialties. I have a hard enough time coming to terms with my body without someone I perceive as an "authority" telling me it's horribly, horribly flawed. I mean, (cussword), I work out an HOUR A FREAKING DAY four days a week. And I eat what I think I "should" eat rather than what I "want" to eat. And I can walk long distances without tiring and lift heavy things and do hard fieldwork and generally manage...and yet, I feel like I have people telling me there's something terribly wrong with my body, and sort of with the undercurrent of WHY AREN'T YOU DISABLED ALREADY BY ALL YOUR GROSS FAT)

(and THIS. This is why heavy people often won't go to the doctor. Dammit, we KNOW we're fat. We KNOW we weigh more than we "should." We don't need to be shamed. If it were easy to lose weight - if it really were 100% a matter of willpower, we'd have done it long ago. Willpower. Heh. If I'm working out an hour a day most days a week, and finding time to practice piano for 50 minutes to an hour, I don't really think there's anything wrong with my willpower.)

I did ask the campus nurse about it, her interpretation was that it was a pulled muscle. So I don't know. I thought pulled muscles got better faster than 3 1/2 weeks, but maybe, as I said, I keep on stressing it and it can't get better that way.

(Based on where the pain is, looking at a diagram of the hip muscles, it's possible that it's the piriformis. I know that dancers sometimes injure that muscle)

So I don't know. I hurt, it stinks, and it doubly stinks because I feel like I should be better already. And it makes me sad to think that the exercise I was doing to "stay healthy" may have been making the injury worse all along.

Worst. Greeting. Ever.

Okay, so Sunday is the day when I can clock another successful (in the sense of, I'm Not Dead Yet) orbit around the sun. And I've got a few cards (and a mysterious Amazon box, which I have not opened yet, assuming it must be a gift, as I have not ordered anything from them lately).

I got a "card" yesterday from my health insurance.

Um, yeah. Nothing says, "OH HAI, you are one year closer to decrepitude" than a card (a flyer, really) from your health insurer. In English AND Spanish.

I wasn't really very happy with what it said. But then again: I suppose this is what you get if you are a conscientious/concerned person in a world where too many people are not.

It was a list of "healthy habits." And a strong suggestion that I follow those. (The unwritten, but assumed-by-me, subtext: because then you will cost us less money*).

(*Despite the fact that I weigh more than what any guideline I've ever seen says I should, the only thing I cost them - besides routine checkups - is treatment of my allergies. And the only way I could have prevented that, I think, is to have picked parents who wouldn't have given me a genetically tetchy immune system. Or maybe to have got myself colonized by parasitic worms at an early age; there's some research that suggests people who had worm parasites as a child are less prone to allergies.)

I can't remember all of the suggestions, but there were the standard "Eat more vegetables." "Eat less food overall." "Exercise more." "If you are overweight, get your weight down to what guidelines say it should be**" "Be sure to have the necessary tests for whatever someone your age should have."

(**some of the guidelines say I "should" weigh 140 pounds. Not unless I develop some horrible wasting disease. I think a lot of those "guidelines" are written for women who don't have much in the way of muscle mass. I know, I know: I'm carrying more fat than is ideal, but I'm also fairly muscular, thanks to regular workouts and the field research I do. And if I DIDN'T have that muscle, I couldn't DO the field research I do.)

Okay, with the exception of "weight within the guidelines" and arguably "eat less food" (because what is LESS, anyway? I don't eat a huge amount but I'm not going to make myself walk around hungry), I do all of the things they list.

And yet, it still makes me feel guilty and bad, like I'm not doing enough.

I tell myself: this is because there are people who don't think anything of eating a big Mac and large fries and shake on a daily basis. Or people who never exercise. But I still feel kind of bad about having a finger wagged at me (or that's how I see it) yet again: "bad fattie. BAAAAAAAD."

And I realize, this is largely my perfectionism talking: I think what I'm doing is telling myself, "You had the strength of character and willpower to earn a Ph.D., to earn tenure, to juggle all the million things you must do. WHY DO YOU NOT HAVE THE STRENGTH TO MAKE YOURSELF A SIZE 8?"

The last suggestion on this flyer-of-woe?

"Limit stress."

Sorry, health insurer. Way too late for that now. And you know, it's kinda your fault.

What would have been nice? Would have been at least one suggestion that was not either a "thou shalt not" or an invitation to something unpleasant (like a reminder that if you're over 50, you really should get regular colonoscopies). Something like, "Hey, enjoy the fact that you're alive!" or "If you have good health, be grateful for that!" or maybe, even, "Treat yourself a little on your birthday." (Though even then, I'd probably be all "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO HEALTH INSURER!")

Anyway. If they wanted to save some money they could just not mail out the darn fliers, I think.

(I may be in a slightly sour mood this morning because I didn't work out today: I woke up at 4 am with an incipient migraine (there are storms on the way) and figured it was better not to risk making it worse with the physical stress of a workout. Also, I am trying to up the intensity of the workout and found I have pulled a few muscles over the past few days, so I probably need a rest day)

We'll see if I get a birthday postcard from one of my elected representatives. I did one year, but I think that guy is out of office now. (The postcard did note, in big letters, that neither it nor its postage was paid for with tax dollars.)

So anyway, despite the fact that I'm super busy, and gas prices are peaking (Though if Gaddafi is replaced by someone kinder to the people of Libya and who "plays well" with the rest of the world, it will be worth it, I think), I'm going to McKinney Saturday. If for nothing else to go to Quilt Asylum and spend some time there ignoring the fact that I am really too busy.

I think of Holly Golightly, and how she said that she liked Tiffany's because it seemed like "nothing bad could happen to you there." That's kind of how I feel about Quilt Asylum (and quilt shops in general), and also a lot of the stores in McKinney (ever-changing though they may be.)

A check of the website reveals that Loco Cowpoke is still there (good! I can stock up on some of the gourmet food items), and the old-timey candy shop, and Morningstar Treasures. And "Smitten," which is where the Antique Collection (formerly my favorite antique shop) moved to when their building was taken for another purpose. And "Heirlooms," another small but nice antiques shop...

And Happiness is Quilting is still there, so I will be able to visit two quilt shops in the day. So really, the places I consider "important" destinations still exist (that's always a concern; it seemed the last time I was there the economy was really affecting the downtown shops). I'm going to get some money out of my savings account (which I normally keep for emergencies, but because of my usual frugality, there's a lot more in there than what most emergencies would require) and just plan on having a spending spree. I don't do this often (maybe twice a year), but it is just kind of fun to go with money in your pocket and the knowledge that if you see something you really want, you can buy it without worrying about it.

There's also a British Pub and Restaurant called "Churchill's." I may want to eat lunch there, seeing as the former Prime Minister and I are something like sixth cousins. (I joke that "fortunately I resemble the other side of the family...")

It occurs to me that one of the biggest things I miss about not having a sufficiently close female friend/relative whose schedule jibes with mine is not having someone to go clothes-shopping with me.

I do have female friends here, I just don't feel that same level of closeness where I would feel OK calling them up and going, "I'm going to Kohl's, can you come and help me?" (Or maybe I do have friends who would be willing to do that, I just feel funny asking)

Because it's more fun to shop for clothes with another person. (That's the only kind of shopping I find more fun with another person). With another person along, if you grabbed the wrong size, you can ask them to go and get the next size smaller or larger while you stay in the dressing room. And a GOOD friend (or a relative you get on well will) will be honest and will either tell you when something really doesn't flatter you (or as is more common in my case, reassure me that it really does look okay on me and I am not the hot mess I believe myself to be sometimes). And then you can do the same for them while they shop. Or you can grab something off the rack and go, "This wouldn't look good on me but it would be so good for you!" (if you're shopping with someone with a different body type and/or coloring)

And also, if it's someone with similar taste, it's fun to laugh over the hideous clothes. (Which, in any given season, can be 80% of what a store has on offer).

I enjoy shopping for craft supplies and books alone. I actually prefer antiquing alone. I (most of the time) tolerate-to-enjoy grocery shopping alone.

But clothes shopping alone often leaves me kind of depressed - the one place where I am really fragile is in my body image, and so often the stuff on offer at stores doesn't work well with it, or I can't find just what I think I want, or (as happened at the Kohl's last fall) I try on a blouse putatively marked "XL" and find that I can't button it over my seemingly-now-Dolly-Parton-esque bosom, and it won't fit my big beefy arms. And then I just feel all horrible and sad and want to sit down on the grody floor of the dressing room and cry a little bit once again over why I had to grow up to be a big woman instead of the little sylphlike thing I really wanted to be.

(Even if it is really very likely the blouse was mismarked as to size. My critical thinking skills don't always work when clothes shopping.)

But having another person along helps. Even if they're not the super-vocal supportive cheerleader type - I feel like with another person along I can't quite descend into the same depths of appearance-self-loathing that I do when I shop alone. I don't know why; it's probably the same reason that I will practically bite off my own tongue rather than cry in front of another person, and yet I cry fairly freely and easily when I am alone.

Not Martha linked to a museum show called "Suffer for Beauty" - highlighting some of the uncomfortable things women have done over the years to fit in with the (whatever was current) standard of beauty.

I don't really have a lot of commentary on that (I think we have it a lot easier now, even with Spanx and the ads for botox), but I will observe from looking at the photo of the woman there...something that's been going around in my head for a time...I have a late-19th century sort of face.

For years, when I'd look at celebrities or the women on the covers of fashion magazines, and then look at myself, I'd be puzzled or a little bereft: they really didn't look that much like me. At the height of my appearance-insecurity I felt like a different species from those tanned, high-cheekboned, pouting models. (And yes, I did feel that way. And at an embarrassingly mature age to feel that way, I will admit)

But now, seeing some older photos and also looking at some of the "Pre-Raphaelite" era paintings by people like Dante Gabriel Rosetti, I've concluded that I simply have an atavistic face. One that's not currently in fashion. So that's why there aren't women who look "like" me acting in movies, or showing up on magazine covers. Not sure what to make of that, other than "not being the current fashion" is preferable to "having a look no one found appealing, ever"

(Perhaps that's partly why I've always like Pre-Raphaelite paintings...)

Except for final exams (today) all my summer teaching stuff is done.

And I finished up the last of the soil-invertebrate samples yesterday.

(And I finished both the Bird's Nest Shawl and Cobblestone in the past week and a half).

I feel odd and at loose ends when I have all the stuff I "was" working on done. (Oh, I still have small projects ongoing, and of course the quilt in the frame...but my two "biggest" (in size at least) knitting projects are done).

So I started a new project. I finished winding off the yarn for the Honeycomb vest, cast on, and knit the first few rows.

Yeah. This is gonna be a long-term project, I think. Sport weight yarn on size 3-4 needles. And the ribbing is done in a twisted stitch where you twist not just the knits on the right side, but the purls on the wrong side (eep). I think it will go faster once I get into the main (cabled) section because only 2 rows out of 9 or so are cabled, the rest are just knit and purl (and not twisted knit and purl, either).

I have it along with me for invigilating-knitting.

I have to say there is something I find very satisfying about taking some yarn from my stash (the yarn is the Silky Wool that the pattern recommends, only in a sort of a bottle-green color) and using it. I had bought this last fall on my Mid-Fall Break trip to Stitches and Stuff.

There's also some pleasure in going to my Ravelry "queue" (a list of patterns you want to do sometime) and clicking on "start this project" to move it from the queue to the list of active projects. (I don't keep up with the queue or project page as much as I might, but there is something about them that pleases the more compulsive side of me).

I'm doing a smaller size on the vest than I might otherwise consider doing. I think I bought yarn for the 46" size, but reading the pattern, it points out that the stitch is VERY stretchy (as someone who first made clothes by sewing, and then usually using woven cotton fabrics, I tend to forget how stretchy knitwear is and that negative ease often looks better) and that you should do a size about 3" smaller than you might actually wear, so I'm doing the 41 1/2" size. So hopefully that will be a success. A few of the sweaters I have made have come out a bit too big on me, and I think it's a combination of my sewing experience plus having the "fat girl" message hammered home so effectively to me by society (as I've said before, I am NOT good at discounting others' opinions, even when they are perhaps ill-formed), that I wind up making (and sometimes even buying) bigger, more tentlike clothes.

But the fact is, you really can't disguise what size you are. If you're a big person, wearing loose clothes only makes it more obvious. And while loose clothes have much to recommend them (especially on 90+ degree days), sometimes something more fitted looks better.

So I'm going to try the smaller, fitted size. (I just hope, eight months hence, I am not having to either rip back the entire finished sweater - or, more likely, find someone just a bit smaller than me who looks good in bottle-green and give it to them.)

I had a checkup with my allergist yesterday. I waited 45 minutes past the scheduled time of my appointment- for a checkup that took maybe 12 minutes. (Sigh.)

The good news is that everything looked fine (ears, nose, throat, what they could determine of heart and lungs from listening, plus glands - and no evidence of thyroid problem, at least from a manual exam). I also lost 2 and 1/2 pounds since my gyn checkup in May.

That's HUGE for me. I know 2 1/2 pounds in 2 months sounds like NOTHING for the super-dieters, but trust me: I've been in instances where I actually really *dieted* - like, went HUNGRY for stretches of the day and was cranky and miserable and obsessive and kept a food diary (a good idea for some but I think not for me) - and dropped maybe 5 or 7 pounds in the span of six months.

The only differences I can point to is that I've been more active, gone at a faster speed on the cross-country ski exerciser, and I've been trying to eat more nutritious food. Not LESS food, simply more nutritious food. (I think some women get themselves into this problem where they ratchet down their food intake so much, that their metabolism goes down and their body conserves calories).

(I will say, as I was wandering through the Hobby Lobby after my appointment, my Rational Scientific Mind kicked in and said, "Wait...couldn't that scale just have been calibrated differently? Couldn't it just read low relative to what your gyn's scale read?" Shut up, Rational Scientific Mind, you just killed my buzz.

I finally concluded that (a) it is unlikely a doctor's office (using one of the old-timey push-weight scales) would be THAT far off, (b) I was dressed more heavily this time (Why, oh why, won't they let us take off our clothes to be weighed? That would eliminate the "I was wearing heavy shoes" issue) including big clunky trainers instead of the little strappy sandals I wore for the other appointment, and (c) most importantly, it DOES look like my waist is a bit smaller. Which is the part of my anatomy I worry most about. The size of my bust, I figure I can't do too much about short of reduction surgery, and the size of my hips, I just don't worry too much about (word up, Sir Mix-A-Lot). As long as I can continue to fit into my clothes, I just don't worry about the hips.

But the waist, yeah, I worry about that. Both because I used to be able to boast of more of an hourglass figure than I currently have and also (mainly, I will claim) because of all the medical stuff that says "fat on the butt and thighs, not so bad; fat in the gut, bad"

So I'm assuming the little loss came off my waist; as I said, I THOUGHT I noticed that it was getting a bit smaller.

Oh, yeah, I'm still technically FAT (though the doctor said nothing about that; I suppose it's out of an allergist's purview), but I figure as long as my body functions the way it needs to (and trust me, it does: I can climb up on my roof to get the leaves off of it, I can cut brush for a couple hours without a break even in hot weather, I "outrun" my students in the field, stuff I take for granted being able to do, other people claim is "strenuous") I'm not going to worry too much.

though it was nice to see the needle go down for a change.

(oh, and another rationalization: Maybe I've lost even a little MORE; I know I am retaining water at the moment. (And I'm kind of jumpy/anxious. The one thing that was out of whack was that my blood pressure was a little high; the nurse asked about it and I told her it was normally normal or borderline low, but that it was "that time" and I was feeling anxious and she just kind of nodded and made an agreeing sort of noise.

Speaking of which, I don't feel so great right now. I think now that I'm done typing exams I should go home and put something more comfortable than jeans on (it got HOT here again) and lie down on the sofa and knit and find something amusing to watch on tv.)

Perhaps positive self-talk (or in the absence of that, positive talk from others) is the way to go. I think I listen too much to the news stories...I hear them, I hear the talk about "ideal" and "overweight" BMIs, and the way they make it sound, I'm like one Twinkie away from needing one of those carts to get around the Wal-mart. (Except I loathe Twinkies).

But then again - two things said to me this week:

Yesterday: out doing fieldwork with a student. At one point she stopped and stretched and said something like, "Man, you have to be in good shape to do this." And it's funny, because I don't think of fieldwork as particularly strenuous - yes, there is some walking, but it's not very fast and although it probably adds up to a fair amount, it's in little spurts as you go between samples. And yes, there's stooping and bending - but I'm so used to doing that anyway (cleaning house, digging in the yarn-stash under the bed, gardening) that it doesn't seem like work.

And I enjoy fieldwork, so that makes it seem less like work.

But yeah, maybe you do have to be in decent shape for prairie sampling.

And then today, doing some volunteer work at my denomination's nearby camp, one of the older ladies commented that I was a "hard worker" - because I scrubbed spider webs (ugh) off of a number of outside windows, and knocked down mud dauber nests. And then swept and mopped (with one of those giant heavy old-fashioned "string" mops) a screen-porch that was probably 8' by 40'.

(Heh...yesterday was Talk Like a Pirate Day and today I swabbed a "deck.")

Frankly, though, in situations like that, if the choice is "work" or "sit around and talk," I take "work" every time. It's not that I DISLIKE talking, it's just...it's kind of ingrained into me of "work first, then relax." And frankly, I like that kind of simple physical work where someone just points you at something and says "do this" and you just have to do it without agonizing over HOW or WHY or WHAT TECHNIQUE.

I guess what frustrates me about the whole "OH NOES OBESITY" thing is that technically I'm overweight - pretty overweight, actually, if you go by the charts. And yet, it does not "disable" me in any noticeable way. If anything, the extra bulk seems to make me more robust - I tend to resist most of the passing germs (well, except colds, but my respiratory system has always been jacked up, and it was actually worse when I was a skinny little kid), and I'm usually the one who can lift heavy stuff or work for a pretty long time without tiring.

So I think part of it is living with the cognitive dissonance of being told that I'm one step away from some kind of horrible debilitation and my actual observed reality that I'm pretty strong and healthy.

I guess not enough people smoke any more for them to make it worth harassing smokers with scary news stories...I wonder what will be next - people who tan, or vegans (OH NOES NO B12!), or people who don't get enough sleep....

****

So after the day's work (I worked for half a day - I had promised only that much and really, most of the work that didn't involve power-washing or tree-limb cutting was fairly completed. And I didn't want to power-wash because of the wet-t-shirt effect (not cool at a church camp) and tree-limb cutting is something I have zero expertise in), I decided I was halfway to Ardmore, so I decided to go the rest of the way.

I'm glad I did, because The Brown Bag was having a sale. (A store that's kind of hard to describe - it's what my friend Chris calls "One of those places that sells stuff you don't really need," except she defines "need" more restrictively than I do. And they do sell kitchen stuff, which you technically "need," though you could probably get by with cheapie stuff from the wal-mart instead of the nice OXO stuff that Brown Paper Bag carries)

And I found a bunch of stuff that will make good Christmas presents. Even something for someone who is hard to buy for. Even a less-than-$10-but-still-nice present for my CWF gift exchange this Christmas (two very nice large tea mugs - $2.50 each, and I can add in a box or two of tea from the grocery store. I was actually tempted to keep the mugs for myself, but decided I already have enough).

I also hit the bookstore there - picked up a copy of Larry McMurtry's memoirs about being a bookseller - and I went to the sort-of-sad-and-dying mall (Is this typical for the "enclosed" malls? The two nearest me - this one and the one in Sherman - seem to be dying out, either being replaced by those new long strip-type setups of big box stores, or they're just wasting away. And one of the malls in the town where I used to live wound up being demolished and replaced by a "Town Center" of shops where you have to drive between them - very inconvenient).

I did go to the Bath and Body Works (long time since I'd been except I always buy more than I really need) and the Hobby Lobby (Floss! Need more floss! Both for the sometime-to-be-started horse stamped cloth, and the second pillow commemorating the I Can Has Cheezburger? fad).

So it was a pretty good day. Part of it is, I think, I just need a change of scenery sometimes. Part of the attraction of going over to Ardmore was just seeing some different stuff - it had probably been close to a year since I was there last.

I ordered the second book by the woman who writes Yarnstorm. This one is called "Cherry Cakes and Ginger Beer," and is devoted to recipes reminiscent of foods eaten in children's books.

This time I got what is (clearly) the British edition; all the measurements are in grams (which I can work around) and the oven temperatures are given in "gas marks" or in Celsius (which I will have to convert if I make anything from the book).

Sadly, there aren't too many recipes from books familiar to me - there are some inspired by "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" (Mr. Tumnus' tea-with-toast and Turkish delight and a sticky marmalade roll supposedly similar to what Mr. and Mrs. Beaver served). And there are a couple of Paddington-inspired recipes. (I'm a little disappointed that she didn't delve deeper into the Narnia saga and recount one of my favorite food-bits from The Magician's Nephew...where Polly goes into the "space between the houses" to read and takes apples and bottles of ginger-beer with her, and imagines it as being like a pirate's cave.)

Most of the books referenced are from the Enid Blyton oeuvre, and I don't think many of us in the States read much Enid Blyton. So a lot of the recipes, I don't have that sentimental "hook" to hang them on to.

(Though she does suggest a Heidi-style supper of fresh milk, rye bread, and cheese-toasted-in-front-of-a-fire, which sounds fantastic...I'd probably add an apple to have something tart in addition.)

The other sort-of-jarring thing (though this may be just me that finds it jarring) is the line in the introduction, that intrusion of 21st century nannying-tone that goes something like, "Well, of course you realize, the people who ate these foods lived in unheated houses, and ran around outdoors all day, and did manual labor. And of course the portion sizes back then were smaller than what we've come to expect." And while perhaps that's become sadly necessary these days (like the disclaimer on the back of the bag of little Hershey's dark chocolate squares I bought a while back, warning me that it is an "indulgent treat" to be enjoyed "in moderation"), it does make me sad. It's almost like she's saying, "Look, but don't cook." Or, "If you're going to sample these, you need to be darn sure you're going to burn the calories off somehow."

For once, for once I'd just like to read about food as food - as sustenance, as something pleasurable, without that irritating shadow of "But what's this going to do to your BMI, dear?" hanging over it. And yeah, maybe I "hear" that more readily than most people (I blame a particular doctor I had in the past who, even though my weight did not change one bit over the span of ten years, still kept making noises about dieting and such).

And the thing that irritates me and makes me spin about a bit like a Tasmanian devil and start to grumble about how it's "not fair" - I don't eat excessively. In fact, with the exception of what is probably a greater fondness of sweets than is ideal, I really don't eat badly. I make a pretty Herculean effort to get the recommended servings of fruits and vegetables in, especially considering how few vegetables there are I actually like. And I almost never go out to lunch - while colleagues slimmer than I get the Fat-burger or the double-dipped deep-fried chicken sandwich on a regular basis....no, I'm there with my little cup of plain organic yogurt, and my little apple, and my sesame crackers. And I do the portion-control thing (though sometimes I could perhaps do it better. But dammit...sometimes I get hungry, and sometimes a little salad and a boiled egg just aren't enough of a dinner). And I work out, even when that extra hour of sleep is the only thing I could possibly want in the whole world.

And still I remain bigger than what is considered acceptable. And it drives me crazy, because then you read some other writers, especially those who write for certain women's magazines, and they tell you things like, "Take a raw beet in your lunch instead of that sugary sugary apple" or "You simply must accept the fact that you cannot eat like 'normal' people do." And then they lay out some diet plan that would involve me being enormously hungry all the time - and therefore cranky and ineffective in my work. But sometimes, if I read those magazines a little too much, I begin to wonder: could those people be right? Could it be I need to learn to exist on 1200 or fewer calories a day? Is it my unlucky genetic draw (both grandmothers were heavy, and heavy in the way that I am) that will require me to be doomed to a life of picking at food and telling myself to "just deal" with being hungry?

Or I hear the stories about "Oh, just cut out one sugared soda each day and weight will melt off you!" Um, excuse me, Ms. Nutritionist? How do I cut out something I already do not consume? Do you want me to cut out a serving of fruit? The glass of orange juice that is as necessary for me first thing in the morning as coffee is for some people? The little square of dark chocolate that is one of the relatively few sensual pleasures in my life?

There are some cracks in this mentality - the New York Times story the other day about "positive eating." But the way I see it, with health insurers looking for any route to either deny people coverage or charge them more, the news story that the NHS in Scotland is considering sending nurses out onto the street, armed with tape measures, to measure people's waists and to "refer" the women with a waist larger than 32" (MY waist is larger than 32" at this point) to a "slimming program," I don't see it improving any time soon. Instead, I fear that those of us who are "just big" are going to continue to be harassed until we drop weight. (And considering that my weight, as I said, hasn't changed in ten years - actually, more like 12 to 15 years, now), despite having increased the amount of exercise I get and shifted my diet to a more-vegetarian, more-healthful version, I fear that I will just have to put up with the harassment, because it seems that my body "wants" to be this size.

The thing is - all of my blood numbers are "good." I do not show any risk signs of any of the things they typically blame overweight for. I can and do walk faster than my students when we're out in the field - I have to stop and wait for them to catch up, even though they may be 20 years my junior.

I'm sure part of this may be tied to our Puritan heritage - where enjoying anything is too likely to tie us to "this world," where pleasure is something we're not worthy of, at least in this life. But you know? Fruit tastes good for a reason. There is pleasure in a hot bowl of soup on a chilly night for a reason. If eating was unpleasant to us, we would have died out a long time ago.

So, I have to admit it: my pleasure in "Cherry Cakes and Ginger Beer" is not unalloyed. I feel an annoyance akin to the annoyance I feel when some science-in-the-news type talks about how chocolate contains antioxidants, but in the very next breath has to remind us that "it's full of calories, so don't eat too much!" To me, it feels like we're being told "Enjoy....oh, wait, no, don't really enjoy, don't enjoy very much. Too much happiness is bad for a person."

Moderation is wonderful, but being immoderately reminded that we need to practice it at all times is simply annoying.

There's an awful lot I could snark about from this study that is promoted with the tagline, "Thinking makes you fat.".

But since the mess of election-year snark has made me rather snark-allergic, I will simply observe: aha, so that's where the Dissertation 15 (or 20, in some cases) comes from.

How long before the "thin at any cost" types start suggesting people think less? (Okay, that is a bit of snark. But I'm tired of the "thin at any cost" types telling me things like "You can NEVER EVER eat bread again!" or "Just do three to four hours of exercise every day and you'll be PERFECT!!!" No, I won't. Because as soon as I get to some impossible-to-maintain-and-have-a-life size, you'll redefine "perfect.")

This little YouTube clip has been shared a great many places before. But I got to thinking about it again the other day...I've been going through one of my periodic "love the contents but hate the package" period, and am trying to break out of it.
I will admit I cried the first couple times I watched this. And I have to explain why. A lot of the women - well in the first 45 seconds of the clip or so - there's more of a similarity between THEIR faces and MY face than anything I've seen on the cover of one of the "women's magazines" since...well...since I can remember. (I don't read the fashion mags any more after deciding they were not helpful to me).

But I look at some of those women and I see rounded, oval faces without prominent cheekbones...and that's like MY face. And I see long, thin noses...and that's like MY nose. And I see heavier eyebrows...and those are like MY brows (even though I have succumbed and now do "shape" them a little. And for the gents...and for the ladies who don't have to do that particular task? "Shaping" does kind of hurt. At least it's not the kind of thing you look forward to do at 6:15 am before putting on your makeup for the day).

And while I kind of draw the line at saying I look LIKE these women...there's a similarity there. And that's why I reacted so strongly to the clip. Because what passes for "beauty" in our culture contains elements I do not have, or at least feel I do not have, when I look at myself in the mirror and compare myself to actresses or models. But I can look at that clip and recognize the women in it as beautiful (and yes, lots of them are very beautiful to me) and realize that perhaps what counts as attractive shouldn't be as narrow as it is right now.

(Incidentally - if you want to play the "how many of these can I guess right" game for the clip - I found myself sort of doing it - there is a "guide" here)

Edited, and adding: the more I watch that clip the more I think it's one of the most brilliant things on YouTube. Not just for the choice of artwork and music, not just for the social-commentary-that-I-am-reading-into-it, but for the way the faces "morph" - oh, I know, it's all done with computers and not with magic, but you know the saying about how any sufficiently technologically advanced process is indistinguishable from magic, and since I don't really understand the morphing algorithms used, I'm willing to accept that it's "magic."

moar funny pictures

Though in my case, these days, it seems more like "Fud: apply directly to waist."

I think I'm going to have to take up crunches again, ugh.

Thanks TChem. I'd offer to trade with you except mine seems to be no prize right now, either.

And Karin, thank you for the card. I appreciate it (even if my memory of German has decayed - already - to the point where I couldn't read everything on the page).

I'm working on the sleeve cap of the Greek pullover. I'm amazed that I'm nearly done with this.

I'm also thinking about "next patterns" - oh, I still have Kenobi (and I pulled out what I had done this evening to look it over). But I also have some really nice Cascade 220 in a color that almost perfectly matches my eyes (true: it's brown with sort of a green heather overlaying it) and I want to make the u-necked vest from Fitted Knits. (And it will be nice, for a change, to not have to do SLEEVES.)

But I'm contemplating what size. My M.O. has been to make a size bigger than what I "absolutely" need - to factor in a couple inches of ease. So that would mean doing the 46" size, probably. But - this is supposed to be a FITTED top.

And you know, after looking at the "gallery" of 1824 blouson tops at Knitting Daily, I'm beginning to think that maybe zero or even negative ease would work better here. The 44" size would be like 1/2 inch ease...but the 42 1/2" size would be just a tiny bit of negative ease - like an inch - and you know, even worn over a t-shirt or t-shirt-fabric turtleneck, that might look better.

It's funny. I've been so programmed by the fashion rags and your standard clothing stores to think of myself as a Fat Chick - and therefore, the conventional wisdom goes, I should hide myself in tentlike, voluminous things. But I'm beginning to rethink that - my favorite pair of dress-slacks right now are *just* fitted enough that they're still comfortable, but they kind of skim certain curves and hug, ahem, others. (Okay - I will come out and say it. I think, despite the fact that there are a lot of body parts I feel there's something "wrong" with on me, that I have a nice butt. It's neither too big nor too flat [word up to Sir Mix-a-lot.]. It's well toned thanks to the copious exercise I get. And it doesn't sag.)

And maybe...maybe that could be true of the top, too, as long as the tops are well-designed. (I wore a men's Hawaiian shirt today and was reminded of one of my frustrations with it - the buttons are on the "wrong" side, and when I wear my purse over the shoulder I conventionally wear it over, the strap can catch on the buttonhole edge and unbutton a "strategic" button on the front. But part of the problem is that the design of the shirt assumes a basically linear torso, not one with curves, so there's a bit of pressure being exerted right on that part of hte shirt.) So maybe some negative ease on a nice, girl-designed top would look nice.

After all, it's worth a try. If I absolutely loathe the way it looks, I suppose I could rip back and do the next bigger size, or give it to my (slightly woolaverse but would probably wear a vest) slightly slimmer sister-in-law.

Anyway. Maybe I need to replace "Fat Chick" in my mental image with "Curvy Chick," or what I like better, "Voluptuous Chick." (Oh, yeah, I know - in some circles "voluptuous" is a polite euphemism for "fat," but work with me here.)