Sure, later anorexia became much more than being thin or liked. But that’s not what this series is about.

This theory I have is that the media does have quite an affect on eating disorder increases. Not strictly in the usual sense, that surrounding us with images of thin, successful people is plaguing our minds and diets; that there is so much literature out there, documenting increasing in obesity in parallel with increases in other health problems.

Obesity can in part be blamed for a whole host of problems:

• Heart disease;
• Diabetes, type two;
• Some cancers;
• Sleep problems;
• Skeletal alignment issues;
• Distortion of cancer test results;
• Sadness;
• Increased sick days, morbidity and the associated costs;
• Potentially lowering dopamine absorption or manufacturing;
• Fertility issues.

And on and on. It seems that obesity can and is being blamed for every physical and emotional health issue at large. So, that being displayed, wouldn’t you be more likely to skip a few meals, avoid fatty foods, become obsessive about maintaining an appropriate body mass index if you are continually being bombarded with news about being fat equalling being unhealthy and, well, dead?

Obesity, Childhood obesity, Cancer, Heart Disease, Diabetes, Sleep, Sadness, Depression, Teasing, Bullying, Sickness, Morbidity, Dopamine, Fertility, Media and obesity, Media and fear

My New Year’s Resolutions

Last year, I made 27 resolutions. I didn’t keep a single one of them. Nothing, seriously, even lasted past the first couple of days.

So here’s the deal: every day, I snack liberally. If I’m hungry, I eat. I generally share whatever my daughter is having, then eat a big dinner (fast!) and then, once toddler bedtime has come and I’m reading and updating blogs, I sit with whatever catches my fancy and I eat. Until I’m like, overfull but satisfied, psychologically. I don’t feel guilt because of how I eat during the rest of the day and especially because of this one little fact:

I’m not gaining weight like an anorexic who is binge eating croissants, chocolate, ice cream, chips and pasta should. I’m not really gaining weight at all, besides the usual period-related water-retention. Sure, I’ve got some inches on my waist - I am truly confident that those damn tortilla chips and the five-layer dip I ate them with caused a catastrophic sponging of water to make up for the massive salt influx - but the scale? Not so much as the five pounds I hear other women complain about, women who have normalized metabolisms and have not convinced their body that they may never eat again.

In fact, since writing the above paragraphs, I needed to put my toddler back to sleep - in the room where the scale lives. Keeping in mind that in the past two hours I have eaten half of a 230g bag of Reese’s Miniatures, you might be as shocked as me to know that my weight is currently 98 pounds. My waist and hips? 23.5 and 34 inches, repsectively. Meaning an overall loss of two pounds and an inch off of my hips, and a gain of half an inch on my waist.

It’s been five and a half weeks and I’ve made little physical progress. Really, I’ve back-slid. Yet, I find myself much more comfortable with my eating choices and just the fact that I can, am allowed, and should, eat. Until another day.

Seems that during gestation, an overproduction of estrogen - that would be mom’s ‘fault’ - may lead to differing brain development than the fetus’ peers. This brain chemistry could be linked with the development of anorexia. Recently, results were published that I egotistically claimed credit for, showing that brain function differed in anorexics than those without disordered eating habits during a test-type game.

In these new findings, British researchers studied the results of Swedish twins. They found that twin girls were more likely to become anorexic than their male counterparts. Previous twin studies have shown a correlation between one twin having and eating disorder and the other succumbing as well, but this study shows a more specific nature vs nurture link.

Chemically, should one person have a physical disposition to eating disorders, their monozygotic twin should, too. Fraternal twins would have a lowered prevalence, but still would be more likely than siblings separated by years.

Environmentally, people have raved for more than a decade about the media’s role in eating disorders. How magazines, reality television and Hollywood have promoted eating disorders as chic, necessary and typical - these finding may provide less fodder for these anti-image zealots.

Yes, should one have a genetic predisposition to eating disorders, especially to anorexia, then there are triggers anywhere and everywhere. You truly cannot escape the triggers in modern society. However, should we stop this imaging for a segment of the population that is genetically afflicted? If so, should we not also ban cigarette, prescription medication and alcohol imaging? Those are addictive substances that one with, say, a genetic predisposition towards alcoholism might cave at the repeated sight of.

And since it’s seemingly so wide-spread, why not just ‘fess up, should an eating disorder be to blame for weight loss? It’s not like it’s bad PR.

Courtney Love dropped an estimated 50 pounds from her 5′9" frame within a seven month period, explaining it as owing to yoga and a macrobiotic diet. She’s got the heroin not-so-chic look, that’s for sure.

Angelina Jolie has been reported to have sunk to as low as 94 pounds. Her 5′7" frame would be a bit bonier at that weight, I think, but god, people allow for the following: her mother (one of her closest friends) died, she has 4 kids, one of the most high-profile relationships in Hollywood, movie filming and premieres, and to top it all off, work with the UN and various other charities. Let’s assume she doesn’t even have time to eat, never mind an inclination.

Nicky Hilton is not someone I’m really interested in, but her recent extreme thinness has sparked rumours that it’s in reaction to her sister, Paris’ stature.

Amy Winehouse is a trainwreck. She’s reportedly seeking help for her admitted bulimia, drug and alcohol problems and is quite upset about her husband’s jailtime. I wonder what a clean, healthy Amy would look like?

Ashley Simpson got some plastic surgery done over the past couple of years, giving her at least, a new nose and face shape. To go with this? Boyfriend Pete, some Sketchers, a bobblehead and emo-girl hair.

Kate Bosworth is one of the few celebrities that I actually believe to have a serious eating disorder. Her weight has fluctuated so widely over the past few years, to very extreme thinness from extremely well defined muscle tone. All in reaction, it seems, to various professional and relationship woes. Seems classic, to me.

Jenna Jameson is another celebrity I could care less for, not since my 15 year old boyfriend had photos of her stuck up on his bedroom walls, that is. She’s crossed over to model, and is going through a rather nasty divorce, apparently. The stress of litigation explains how she could drop 40 pounds from her formerly pornorific frame. Dropping those 40 pounds? Explains the modelling gig.

Tara Reid also is has big weight fluctuations. She’s been ample, round, thin, toned and now, scary. Botched surgeries, excessive partying, working where the room service sucks, yada yada. Seems like there’s always a good reason for Tara to be in the magazines.

The Olsen Twins have usually not both been included in eating disorder lists. MK has been treated professionally for her eating disorder, but let’s be honest - even after treatment, emerging ‘healthy’, she’s not put much weight on her bones. Now it seems as though Ashley is losing, too - leaving the world with two wavy, over-processed-haired tiny old women in baggy vintage evening wear.

Nicole Ritchie was so skinny, she made me shiver. Then she got knocked up and the inevitable weight gain happened. Not much, but enough to grow a fetus. Or she’s one of those lucky bitches that just gets a tummy and some boobs and then drops it shortly afterwards. Oh wait, I was one of those lucky bitches, too (but I also got tons of stretch marks to commemorate the event).

Here’s to a more normalized celebrity image in 2008. I won’t hold my breath, if you don’t!

Coincidentally though, I’m assessing my life and happiness level and where I’d like to be (and the path I’d like to follow, to get there), and have come up with quite a few 180s I’d like to do.

So, why not sync it up with the rest of the (resolution- making) world?

Here’s my 28, for my 28th year:

Zoë

• potty training
• move to toddler bed
• gymnastics/tumbling classes of some sort
• limit tv time to an hour per day (except date nights)
• make a scrapbook of sorts (i hate every single baby book i’ve ever come across; i’d better just do it my damn self)
• limit fast food to once per month
• make blanket (for toddler bed) and curtains for her room

work, money & lifestyle

• renovate apartment (remove unwanted, restore, paint)
• establish a routine again, allowing at least one hour each, per day for: cleaning, blogging, bookkeeping, me time and Zoë time
• limit starbucks to once per week, as a reward for meeting goals
• blog posting frequency: fmtm? daily; edt 5X per week; tib daily; cut weekly
• stick to monthly budget
• use half of money after expenses to pay debts off; the other half to meet lifestyle goals
• make twice 2007’s blogging income
• look into freelance writing: resume, portfolio, research, specs, etc.
• do work as it’s assigned, because letting it pile up only leads to frustration and overwhelmtion
• complete one distance ed class towards degree
• bake weekly
• have a family dinner monthly
• learn to knit

health & mentalness & other crap, too

• aim for eight hours sleep nightly; wake early, not sleep later
• gain weight - to be a size 1, at least
• the serenity prayer in action: quit trying to change fh and his lifestyle/actions, work on acceptance
• go to the dentist
• read 100 books
• eat five servings of fruit and/or veggies a day
• grow hair to mid-back length
• start doing yoga weekly, at least (maybe bikram’s?)

What’s interesting is exactly how much I freaked out a little at the thoughts of gaining enough weight to be a size 1. Now, with the holiday binge-eating (still happening) having had an effect on all of the sickness weight loss I had, I’ve gained a few pounds - not sure how many. Enough to increase my waist by two inches over it’s smallest measurement of 22 and 5/8" in the past month.

I had to mentally bitch slap myself. I literally had an internal hissy fit at my own brain, for being so idiotic as to think of a size 1 as huge. I had to use similes like "a size one is to Teri Hatcher as special brownies are to munchies and round-framed, rose-coloured glasses." This year is going to be a tough one.

But I really think that I can do it.

What are you going to do in 2008?

My last entry, I talked about my daughter and I both having the flu and what that means for my lifestyle: it becomes about making her feel better and medicating myself as heavily as possible so that I can do everything possible to make her feel better - and sleep. Which doesn’t happen for me, if she’s sick. Anyways.

She was hit with ear infections and bronchitis, then that cleared up to leave tonsilitis. Once that was done, then I got to be sick, but by that time, I was already on the mend. I still have a bit of a spontaneous barking cough, but really, I’m all better.

Unfortunately, the three day hangover prior to getting the flu brought about some weight loss. Then the flu and it’s subsequent digestive distress - well eating didn’t produce pretty results - led to further weight loss. It’s been about a week that I’ve been able to eat without concern for intestinal implosion and a well-timed week, too.

Cooking Christmas dinner for six adults when you’re a single mom to a spirited toddler means a lot of prep work, which generally translates to a lot of snacking as you go and a lot of leftovers because being over-prepared, food-wise is definitely a priority over not having enough to go around. I probably had enough for a second dinner. Which means I did what? Oh, right, binge-ate leftovers with the excuse that I have weight to gain back and that they’re perishable.

And this is where the medical issue comes to light. I’ve been eating so much the past few days, more than 4000 calories daily, I’d assume and enough to add two inches of bloat to my waist. Yet my hypoglycemia is rearing it’s head. In actuality, it’s not been limited to the past week.

For the past six weeks or so, really since I intentionally started eating more, a couple of times a week my blood sugar plummets. This is worrisome for a few reasons, the two most important being: when I was diagnosed as having low blood sugar, my doctor at the time predicted that without maintenance and dedicated care of it, I would be diabetic within five years - it’s been over eight, now; I’m experiencing these plummets after eating, not in response to a lack of food - this means my condition is heightened by regular consumption of fats, proteins, sugars and starches - which leads me to concern over what a maintenance diet would entail.

I suppose a visit to my doctor is needed, to get blood work done and assess the damage I’ve done to my pancreas. Now, if I could just stop procrastinating about it.

Last week, I was doing pretty well

I had been looking forward to my birthday party for a variety of reasons, mostly the fact that I hadn’t been out, sans child, in months and it was to be her first sleepover night with her grandmother. This meant so much to me, having a night away, that of course, I overdid it.

Three days later, I still had a smidge of a hang over. I wasn’t able to eat much for those three days, dropping about seven pounds from the period bloat weight. Back under 100 pounds. Sigh.

Then just when I thought I was recovered, Wednesday evening reared it’s ugly head, bringing the flu with it.

Both my daughter and I were struck simultaneously, her in the form of a two-hour wailfest while we were downtown shopping and me in the form of muscle weakness and headache to the point of doing anything possible to get her to stop screeching, to save my brain from exploding.

So now, it’s been about two days and she’s got full-on ear infections and the beginning of bronchitis. Me? I don’t even know now, since I am so sleep deprived and under-nourished that I’ve got a buzz going. I’ve slept about five hours in these two days because I have a "spirited child."

Spirited kids feel and express things deeply. They’re either clamouring for cuddles or slapping you in the face. They’re screaming or staring at you blankly. This has been my life for the past year and a half, almost, living in the shadow of infant (now toddler) mood swings, always tiptoeing and shhshing other people. And it’s manageable - hell, it’s even fun most of the time - until she gets sick.

Then the world ends and it is all my fault while at the same time, I’m the only one who can make it all better. I don’t get to sleep because she will not sleep on her own. This means I spend most nights alternating rocking and soothing and trying to sleep upright in a chair with her in my arms, my palm making small, soft circles on her back. She is both inconsolable and needy of consoling at all times - leading to it being 110% Zoë time and no such thing as mommy time (even in regards to me eating and going to the bathroom).

Moral to this story: I’ll be back when everything else is back to normal.

Today is the opposite of yesterday. Yesterday, it was all about positivity and wonder at my new-found strive and pride in my recovery; today I feel down about what I am blaming on period-bloat. It’s been a frustrating day, emotionally, in part because three pounds have been inherited in the past two days and though I know, logically, it’s because of the usual monthly water-weight, I can’t help but regret the late-hour chocolate party I had last night.

The moodiness of recovery is enough to make you not want to recover, sometimes. Yet, the moodiness of being an active anorexic is just too much to handle, as well.

It seems a lose-lose situation, wherein I will make the wrong choice, regardless of the question at hand and ultimately, I will end up unhappy with the result. So I’m trying to pull the focus away from my weight or my lower tummy and put it towards something much more useful, manageable and healthily malleable - my hair.

I recently dyed my naturally auburn hippy coif blonde. I intended on what I call rocker-blonde - that shade a touch darker than bleach, yet, whiter than light golden. I’ve ended up with what I have termed Mattel blonde. It’s the texture and colour (mostly) of Barbie’s mane and it’s the opposite of my intention. I wanted different, not what every third girl on my street has. So the quest begins to go dark reddish-brown. A gothier version of chestnut, if you will.

This is what I’m focusing on. Instead of the real problem(s).

The question of whether I should involve my doctor has come to mind. I was referred to him a few years back because he has a certain specialty within the female mental health field. He knows eating disorders, depression and addictive behaviours and in me, he’s found a gold mine. But I’ve been hesitant to see him about this, since his recommendation will likely involve treatment (not a lifestyle or personal possibility) and regular monitoring. There’s no guilt like having your doctor weigh you every two weeks and then tsk at you, asking why you’ve fallen off the wagon. That’s something I’m not sure I’m prepared to sign up for.

But this wavering, this unknowingness of whether I’m doing this right, the thought that maybe it could be easier - it weighs on my mind.

Until tomorrow, when I will likely have a whole different perspective, yet again…

Blame it on the croissants, a gift basket my client gave me (oh truffles, you’re exquisite) and the cookies my daughter and I baked today with a friend.

I think that baking and holiday meals are going to be a caloric godsend, because it’s so easy to give in, I barely even fight myself about it, when it’s something I’ve prepared myself. And especially when I’m going to be sharing it with others, there’s a certain amount of taste-testing and recipe-revamping necessary. So, logically, I’m thinking I can bet on an easy five pound gain over the holidays.

The past few days, I also have an advantage - the bloating that comes with my period. I know that when I wake up in the morning with a gently-rounded tummy, it’s not obesity creeping up on me; I feel secure that I look and mentally am fine, just a little moodier than usual.

Another positive thing is my overall outlook. I’ve never been quite so okay with doing what I am - eating freely and regularly, intentionally - in the past 15 years, at least. This is astounding me, making me take pride in my actions and also, changing my thought from, "I can do this," to, "I am doing this." Big change from the past. Huge, really.

On January the first, I’ll be launching a new blog. A small part of it’s focus will include this recovery, but that will not be the main issue. If you’d like to take part by providing a quote for the sidebar (unrelated to eating disorders or me and including a link to your blog, if you’d like), please email me for further information.

Overall Gains:

Weight: 0.5 pounds

Waist: 1/4 inch

BMI: 0.1

Progress:

I’ve managed to maintain a lowered coffee intake, from about eight cups to maybe four a day. I’ve also been eating at least one full meal and a couple of small snacks during the day, minimum. Obviously, it’s still not as much as I should be getting, but it is a step in the right direction. I’m also feeling semi-celebratory, since the first of the month marked my fourth month without incident of depression. Sure, you can look at a relapse in eating disorder as depression, but when you’re cyclothymic, no depression means you do a happy dance.

Thoughts:

I can only do the best I can. If I go into this with a defeatist mindset, or feel like a failure from the get-go, well, it will be quite hard to maintain my motivation. Last night, while reading in bed I had the thought, "this time next year, I won’t be thinking about how I should be proud of myself for eating before bed because I was hungry. I’ll just do it because I won’t have any reason not to."

That meant a lot, having that thought, because it didn’t involve an ‘if’ or disclaimer of any sort.

Also, I bought a four-pack of croissants yesterday and shared some of one with my daughter. Meaning, I ate one and she had a few bites. So, yes, I’ll keep patting myself on the back, now.