I posted (http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/dietsurvivors/message/4392) the following to a fellow Diet Survivors member, who was experiencing some difficulties with overeating during the holidays:
I ate more than usual yesterday, but I looked around and noticed that my skinny relatives also overate today.
I think we can take a cue from our naturally thin counterparts in that they don't worry about overeating during special occasions. They will not feel guilty about what they ate on Christmas; in fact, they assume that they will overeat on holidays. What will happen, though, is that, without consciously thinking about it, they will return to normal eating. They will once again listen to their hunger and satiety levels.
We can do the same thing, only we have to consciously cue into our hunger levels--that's just a fact of life for us. I don't know if intuitive eating will ever truly become second nature to me, though I knew I had overeaten because I felt a little acid indigestion--my body's way of warning me. I'm sure I used to experience this same sensation, but, for the first time in my life, I'm starting to listen to those warnings. For once, I was able to stop eating and not embark on a full-blown binge. But I did overeat yesterday, and that's a fact.
If you can self-talk yourself out of the guilt, that might help alleviate some of your depressed feelings. Try to view eating as a pleasurable activity instead of a major source of guilt. Somehow, we have managed to associate our love for certain foods with a kind of moral lapse, and, maybe, we need to change our thinking.
I noticed, ______, that you're worried about how you want to be thin by next Christmas--that sounds like the ghost of the diet treadmill past. Instead, why not strive toward living for today?
Consider taking a cue from Buddha's mantra/poem/prayer (from Pali Canon), which is also considered a "Gestalt prayer":
Do not hark back to things that passed,
And for the future cherish no fond hopes;
The past was left behind by thee,
The future state has not yet come.
But who with vision clear can see
The present which is here and now
Such wise one should aspire to win
What never can be lost or shaken.
[NOTE: I started to type the word "stolen" for "shaken"--hmmm, interesting...]
Omar Khayyam, from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (translated by Robert Graves and Omar Ali-Shah, 1968), says,
Never anticipate tomorrow's sorrow
live always in this paradisal Now--...
Rise up, why mourn this transient world of men?
Pass your whole life in gratitude and joy.
_______, listen to that whisper that scolded you about the diety thinking: "But my inner voice is telling me what a mistake that would be."
Those are wise words.
Love, Jennifer
;=)
Slobbery: This "sculpture" says it all...
The semester has ended.
I'm exhausted, but in a happy way. I have made lots of discoveries in the past five months.
My life has changed forever. I have been on mega diets, but I have never felt the sense of my life changing significantly, that is, until now.
Also, my book received a five-star review.
http://betterwaypress.com/reviews/areyouever.html
Thanks, Linda! Someone "gets" Samantha!
Anyway, I'm really shot (and Christmas is almost here--eek!), but I thought you'd appreciate these two representations of my artistic expression--performance (or lack of) performance art at its sloppiest.
In other words, my house is an abode gone wild.
Cheers!
Jennifer
The UnDiet, Eyeballin', Greed-Gluttony, and Pickiness
I'm taking a short break from grading papers (end of the semester) because something important is on my mind, and I don't want to lose my thoughts. I promise, LIT160 and WRT310, I will grade your work in a timely manner (and I am a little ahead of schedule), but I have to do this for me. I know you're impatient, but chill a little; you're going to spend the next 50-60 years waiting around for others to come through for you (Wait until you have kids!).
The UnDiet
Here's the deal: even though I'm trying to work in hara hachi bu into my daily life, it's not an automatic response. I can't expect to conquer years of dysfunctional eating in one or two months. That's totally unrealistic. To be honest, sometimes I just can't tell when I'm 80% full, so I have to determine the fullness factor by eyeballin' my food in advance. Incorporate hara hachi bu as a best-guess factor. Unfortunately, the fixed portion method does not take into consideration the human and environmental factors, the reality that, like the weather, our bodily needs change day-to-day. But, for now, this is the best I can do.
In the past few days, I have noticed a sharp increase in hunger pangs, and hunger happening at odd hours: in middle of the night and upon awakening. This is most definitely an unusual pattern for me, a confirmed breakfast skipper. Also, I may have had a lot of bad eating habits, but eating in the middle of the night has never been a part of my modus operandi. My appestat works well at certain times: the early a.m., specifically. My danger time seems to fall between 5:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m. My "hunger" tends to fall off after 10 or so, even when I don't give in and eat.
I take this current deviation as a sign that I need to eat a little more, even if I gain some weight. I have just finished reading Linda Moran's How to Survive Your Diet: And Conquer Your Food Issues Forever. She offers what I think is a revolutionary concept that flies in the face of conventional dieting "wisdom": that it's okay to fluctuate slightly in terms of weight loss and gain--that we have to give our bodies what they need, thus sacrificing instant gratification in terms of weight loss, rapid or otherwise. But we have to give ourselves permission to accept this without feeling guilty (the toughest part).
So I'm eating more food. Not a lot--this isn't a feast or famine situation, just a solution to a potential problem. This is the time when most of my diets derail: my body, in a semi-state of starvation, cries out for more sustenance, and I would ignore its plea, until I could no longer ignore its cries for help. Then I would spiral out of control and embark on a binge, sometimes lasting months, even years.
My body would always impose its will, exact its revenge.
Well, no more. I'm not on a diet; I'm on an UnDiet, a lifetime endeavor, so I would be remiss in not listening to my body's needs.
In terms of hunger, our bodies seem to follow the seasons. It's extremely cold right now, and it's chilly in our drafty house, so my body (hot flashes notwithstanding) has to work harder to stay warm. Conversely, when it's hot, my hunger levels off. So it's time to listen to those variations in cues. If I were a "natural" thin person, I would instinctively do this, but I'm not, so I have to compensate and make a conscious effort to tune in what my body is telling me.
However, when you're overweight and wanting to lose excess weight, it's discombobulating to systematically incorporate more food. It's counterintuitive to what everyone "knows" about the input/output model of eating. Sigh. Were it so simple...
Eyeballin'
Eyeballin'. I love this word--it sounds so casual, almost flirty. I think it has originated with one of those sexist he-man 70's movies, referring to predatory men checking out sexy women. But I have also seen it as a term for estimating portions, perhaps on Dietsurvivors, maybe elsewhere. The point is: I didn't come up with the word, but, just the same, I have hijacked it for my own purposes.
One positive side effect of my dieting years: I'm good at eyeballin' portions. I can take a hunk of hamburger, eyeball it, and guess its weight within a few grams. So that's what I've been doing. It feels right and natural--second nature. In that sense, dieting has ingrained in me a concept of portion control. I can make that skill work for me.
I don't particularly buy into the popular non-dieting practice of "leaving food on my plate," especially when I'm the one who has already eyeballed portions in advance. For an UnDieter, leaving portioned food behind seems too artificial and obsessive.
Two exceptions: (1) In the rare instances when I can actually feel "80%-full" kicking in, and (2) eating food away from home when I haven't eyeballed my food in advance. Then leaving food behind makes sense. It's a way of re-exerting some control in an environment where we have relinquished a significant amount of control.
Re: restaurants: I like the idea of requesting a to-go box before my meal arrives. That way, I can eyeball my food before digging in and put away what I don't need. Out of sight, out of mind (mostly). Which brings me to the next topic on my mind:
Greed-Gluttony
Portions served in American restaurants are super-sized--no secret there--but we don't need to feel helpless and greedy before the bacchanalian altar of indulgence. We can make choices in how much food and drink we wish to consume: supersized, medium, or small portions.
Restaurants are only too happy to serve up mega-portions. For example, last night, my husband Jerry had to attend a school obligation which involved going out to eat. Having a night class, he didn't have time to finish his meal past the soup, so he brought the rest home in a go-box. I don't normally go into details about calories and such, but what Jerry ate and brought home tells the all-American story of mega-portions (eyeballed calories):
I prefer Linda's use of "greed," because her reference covers more than just food. She views "greed" as extending beyond food overindulgence and into other aspects of life, such as "greedy" weight loss, among other ways to be greedy.
I have made a decision to work on my propensity toward greed--and I do have much work ahead of me and not just about food.
Almost everyone has been a glutton, even naturally thin people on special occasions. But thin folks move on and return to normal eating and drinking--they don't look back with deep regret and guilt.
Greed, on the other hand, feels more systemic, more deeply ingrained, more, well, greedy.
Pickiness
Until recently, it has never occurred to me that I could be a picky eater, but food pickiness makes perfect sense. Why would I want to spend a disproportionate amount of my life eating food that doesn't appeal to me? Why can't I eat the foods I like? Why must I buy into someone else's idea of what's good to eat and what's good for me? Shouldn't that decision be up to me? So what if some of my food choices seem odd and obsessive to others?
I like artificial sweetner on my salad, and I don't like salad dressing, even full fat. I despise mayo. I eat sunflower seeds nearly every day--I look forward to that treat. I love catfish, poached in lime soda and then grilled with onions, and could eat it every day of my life (but I like other things, too, like salmon, shrimp, crab, scallops, chicken, and steak). I like fried egg whites (as a kid, I'd eat around the egg yolk). I love bing cherries, which are now $6.00 a pound (when you can find them). I love sorbet, especially papaya and pineapple, but I want it to be made with real sugar, not artificial sweetner.
I can choose to politely refuse foods I don't like and accept (without guilt) those things that I do like, even if they are hi-cal, formerly forbidden foods, as long as I listen to my body cues and stop when I'm no longer hungry or, at least, when I think I might have had enough.
Is that a workable plan, or what?
Jennifer Semple Siegel
The UnDiet
Here's the deal: even though I'm trying to work in hara hachi bu into my daily life, it's not an automatic response. I can't expect to conquer years of dysfunctional eating in one or two months. That's totally unrealistic. To be honest, sometimes I just can't tell when I'm 80% full, so I have to determine the fullness factor by eyeballin' my food in advance. Incorporate hara hachi bu as a best-guess factor. Unfortunately, the fixed portion method does not take into consideration the human and environmental factors, the reality that, like the weather, our bodily needs change day-to-day. But, for now, this is the best I can do.
In the past few days, I have noticed a sharp increase in hunger pangs, and hunger happening at odd hours: in middle of the night and upon awakening. This is most definitely an unusual pattern for me, a confirmed breakfast skipper. Also, I may have had a lot of bad eating habits, but eating in the middle of the night has never been a part of my modus operandi. My appestat works well at certain times: the early a.m., specifically. My danger time seems to fall between 5:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m. My "hunger" tends to fall off after 10 or so, even when I don't give in and eat.
I take this current deviation as a sign that I need to eat a little more, even if I gain some weight. I have just finished reading Linda Moran's How to Survive Your Diet: And Conquer Your Food Issues Forever. She offers what I think is a revolutionary concept that flies in the face of conventional dieting "wisdom": that it's okay to fluctuate slightly in terms of weight loss and gain--that we have to give our bodies what they need, thus sacrificing instant gratification in terms of weight loss, rapid or otherwise. But we have to give ourselves permission to accept this without feeling guilty (the toughest part).
So I'm eating more food. Not a lot--this isn't a feast or famine situation, just a solution to a potential problem. This is the time when most of my diets derail: my body, in a semi-state of starvation, cries out for more sustenance, and I would ignore its plea, until I could no longer ignore its cries for help. Then I would spiral out of control and embark on a binge, sometimes lasting months, even years.
My body would always impose its will, exact its revenge.
Well, no more. I'm not on a diet; I'm on an UnDiet, a lifetime endeavor, so I would be remiss in not listening to my body's needs.
In terms of hunger, our bodies seem to follow the seasons. It's extremely cold right now, and it's chilly in our drafty house, so my body (hot flashes notwithstanding) has to work harder to stay warm. Conversely, when it's hot, my hunger levels off. So it's time to listen to those variations in cues. If I were a "natural" thin person, I would instinctively do this, but I'm not, so I have to compensate and make a conscious effort to tune in what my body is telling me.
However, when you're overweight and wanting to lose excess weight, it's discombobulating to systematically incorporate more food. It's counterintuitive to what everyone "knows" about the input/output model of eating. Sigh. Were it so simple...
Eyeballin'
Eyeballin'. I love this word--it sounds so casual, almost flirty. I think it has originated with one of those sexist he-man 70's movies, referring to predatory men checking out sexy women. But I have also seen it as a term for estimating portions, perhaps on Dietsurvivors, maybe elsewhere. The point is: I didn't come up with the word, but, just the same, I have hijacked it for my own purposes.
One positive side effect of my dieting years: I'm good at eyeballin' portions. I can take a hunk of hamburger, eyeball it, and guess its weight within a few grams. So that's what I've been doing. It feels right and natural--second nature. In that sense, dieting has ingrained in me a concept of portion control. I can make that skill work for me.
I don't particularly buy into the popular non-dieting practice of "leaving food on my plate," especially when I'm the one who has already eyeballed portions in advance. For an UnDieter, leaving portioned food behind seems too artificial and obsessive.
Two exceptions: (1) In the rare instances when I can actually feel "80%-full" kicking in, and (2) eating food away from home when I haven't eyeballed my food in advance. Then leaving food behind makes sense. It's a way of re-exerting some control in an environment where we have relinquished a significant amount of control.
Re: restaurants: I like the idea of requesting a to-go box before my meal arrives. That way, I can eyeball my food before digging in and put away what I don't need. Out of sight, out of mind (mostly). Which brings me to the next topic on my mind:
Greed-Gluttony
Portions served in American restaurants are super-sized--no secret there--but we don't need to feel helpless and greedy before the bacchanalian altar of indulgence. We can make choices in how much food and drink we wish to consume: supersized, medium, or small portions.
Restaurants are only too happy to serve up mega-portions. For example, last night, my husband Jerry had to attend a school obligation which involved going out to eat. Having a night class, he didn't have time to finish his meal past the soup, so he brought the rest home in a go-box. I don't normally go into details about calories and such, but what Jerry ate and brought home tells the all-American story of mega-portions (eyeballed calories):
- Potato leek soup, 150 calories
- 6-ounce Chicken breast with cheese, 300 calories
- Large oblong roll, 400 calories
- French fries, 240 calories
- Garnish: 2 small pieces of ham, drizzled with cheese, 150 calories
- Fats, 150 calories (mayo, butter, etc.)
Estimated total calories: 1,390!
For one person at one meal. Americans expect to receive these huge amounts--our appetites have been trained to accept these large portions.
But months of adjusting my portions have trained my eye to view the above meal as outrageously gluttonous.
My first irrational reaction to the leftovers: ILLEGAL FOOD!
My second irrational reaction: YOU CAN'T EAT THAT!
My third irrational reaction: THROW IT OUT!
My sensible reaction: NO LAW SAYS YOU CAN'T EAT THAT FOOD!
So for lunch today, Jerry and I split the food (minus the soup, and, for me, only one-fourth of the roll); it was delicious, and I don't feel sick or guilty. This was a time that hara hachi bu actually kicked in, and, basing my decision on true fullness, I left part of my bread and chicken and ate it later.
I'm not trying to be sanctimonious here--I'm saying that with some hard work and difficult decision making, we can train our eyes and our bodies to make sensible choices. We can't expect the food industry to do that for us.
For very little expense, restaurants increase the portions they serve, thus advertising a "good value." It's a fiction, of course, helping their bottom line (excuse the intentional pun) but harming ours. Does it make sense for us to clean our restaurant plates and have to pay Weight Watchers, Optifast, SlimFast, Nutrisystem, etc. so that we can take off the weight we have gained?
Linda Moran uses the word "greed" in conjunction with overeating. I grew up a Catholic and had to memorize the Seven Capital (or Deadly) Sins: Lust, Greed, Envy, Pride, Covetousness, Anger, Sloth, and Gluttony. Interesting that the Church would have two words for (basically) the same sin, but "Gluttony" seems to cover overeating and overdrinking specifically.I prefer Linda's use of "greed," because her reference covers more than just food. She views "greed" as extending beyond food overindulgence and into other aspects of life, such as "greedy" weight loss, among other ways to be greedy.
I have made a decision to work on my propensity toward greed--and I do have much work ahead of me and not just about food.
Almost everyone has been a glutton, even naturally thin people on special occasions. But thin folks move on and return to normal eating and drinking--they don't look back with deep regret and guilt.
Greed, on the other hand, feels more systemic, more deeply ingrained, more, well, greedy.
Pickiness
Until recently, it has never occurred to me that I could be a picky eater, but food pickiness makes perfect sense. Why would I want to spend a disproportionate amount of my life eating food that doesn't appeal to me? Why can't I eat the foods I like? Why must I buy into someone else's idea of what's good to eat and what's good for me? Shouldn't that decision be up to me? So what if some of my food choices seem odd and obsessive to others?
I like artificial sweetner on my salad, and I don't like salad dressing, even full fat. I despise mayo. I eat sunflower seeds nearly every day--I look forward to that treat. I love catfish, poached in lime soda and then grilled with onions, and could eat it every day of my life (but I like other things, too, like salmon, shrimp, crab, scallops, chicken, and steak). I like fried egg whites (as a kid, I'd eat around the egg yolk). I love bing cherries, which are now $6.00 a pound (when you can find them). I love sorbet, especially papaya and pineapple, but I want it to be made with real sugar, not artificial sweetner.
I can choose to politely refuse foods I don't like and accept (without guilt) those things that I do like, even if they are hi-cal, formerly forbidden foods, as long as I listen to my body cues and stop when I'm no longer hungry or, at least, when I think I might have had enough.
Is that a workable plan, or what?
Jennifer Semple Siegel
Sending Poems Out in Public and Dietsurvivors
Tomorrow (actually, later today), I must begin the end-of-the-semester blitz, mega-grading of creative writing portfolios, tests, and literary journals, so my posting might drop off a bit for a while.
Sometimes, I'd like to return my students' portfolios with the below poem enclosed, but I don't; they're still learning and finding their voices. Not easy for them to tell when a poem is truly finished.
So, then, I slip into my sweats, you know,
The torn pants splattered with mustard
Stains on the knees from the Cheesy Corned
Cliché I chowed down on two weeks ago.
The top, ripped at the seams, proclaims,
"I need, I breed; therefore, it’s art."
I, a swine of a poem penned
In a journal, yearn for that choice
Artsy Sestina to ask me out...
Three a.m.
I sigh and sink
Into the Laz-y-Boy, and click on
FOX 39. M*A*S*H.
YES! I wallow in sweat. Gamy
Modifiers bunch around my ankles;
I spit out verbal grunts, shaking my
Bristled hair without a point, passing
Adverbial gas because it feels SO good, and who’s here
To care? I glom down on buttered Redenbacher’s,
Greasy similes sliding down my throat, pimples erupting
On my prose. Pop one for the ad libber...
Ah, yes, I will surely die in this chair.
As the M*A*S*H suicide song dies down,
The phone rings–that foxy Sestina from art class!
"You want to go out for a poetic pepperoni pizza?"
"Whatever." (Yes! Yes! Yes!)
I’ve been waiting for Sestina to ask,
"Pizza Parody in six/three? That is, six
Six-line stanzas and one three-line envoi
(Hold all Imitations)?"
"Whatever." (Yes! Yes! Yes!)
So, then, I drop the phone to the floor,
Roll out of the Laz-y-Boy,
Waddle out the door,
Like really weirded out.
Sometimes I give out the poem early in the semester, but I didn't this year. Instead, I showed them one of my early poems--which shall remain unposted--they had a good laugh. Shows them that writers don't pop out the womb with pen in hand. In some ways, natural talent notwithstanding, creative writing has to be learned and, sometimes, unlearned and relearned.
It's amazing what a deadline will do in terms of placing issues on the back burner. It always gets a bit hairy this time of year, and everyone feels tense and out of sorts. I also have issues with Christmas and the gross commercialism of the season--and the emphasis on food!
For those readers with food issues, I recommend Dietsurvivors highly; I hope the link works.
http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/dietsurvivors/
Cheers!
Jennifer
Sometimes, I'd like to return my students' portfolios with the below poem enclosed, but I don't; they're still learning and finding their voices. Not easy for them to tell when a poem is truly finished.
How Not to Send a Poem Out Into Public
So, then, I slip into my sweats, you know,
The torn pants splattered with mustard
Stains on the knees from the Cheesy Corned
Cliché I chowed down on two weeks ago.
The top, ripped at the seams, proclaims,
"I need, I breed; therefore, it’s art."
I, a swine of a poem penned
In a journal, yearn for that choice
Artsy Sestina to ask me out...
Three a.m.
I sigh and sink
Into the Laz-y-Boy, and click on
FOX 39. M*A*S*H.
YES! I wallow in sweat. Gamy
Modifiers bunch around my ankles;
I spit out verbal grunts, shaking my
Bristled hair without a point, passing
Adverbial gas because it feels SO good, and who’s here
To care? I glom down on buttered Redenbacher’s,
Greasy similes sliding down my throat, pimples erupting
On my prose. Pop one for the ad libber...
Ah, yes, I will surely die in this chair.
As the M*A*S*H suicide song dies down,
The phone rings–that foxy Sestina from art class!
"You want to go out for a poetic pepperoni pizza?"
"Whatever." (Yes! Yes! Yes!)
I’ve been waiting for Sestina to ask,
"Pizza Parody in six/three? That is, six
Six-line stanzas and one three-line envoi
(Hold all Imitations)?"
"Whatever." (Yes! Yes! Yes!)
So, then, I drop the phone to the floor,
Roll out of the Laz-y-Boy,
Waddle out the door,
Like really weirded out.
Sometimes I give out the poem early in the semester, but I didn't this year. Instead, I showed them one of my early poems--which shall remain unposted--they had a good laugh. Shows them that writers don't pop out the womb with pen in hand. In some ways, natural talent notwithstanding, creative writing has to be learned and, sometimes, unlearned and relearned.
It's amazing what a deadline will do in terms of placing issues on the back burner. It always gets a bit hairy this time of year, and everyone feels tense and out of sorts. I also have issues with Christmas and the gross commercialism of the season--and the emphasis on food!
For those readers with food issues, I recommend Dietsurvivors highly; I hope the link works.
http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/dietsurvivors/
Cheers!
Jennifer
SNOW! Day pics!
Hey, wannabe snowbunnies!
More snowy pics.
Just got in from shoveling. Pretty to look at, but the devil to shovel. It was a very heavy snow; and my back is killing me. Well, must run, folks!
Cheers! Jennifer
(York, Pennsylvania, December 9, 2005)
Cherokee, Iowa: a memoir and a chunky teenager
SNOW!
I just took this pic a few minutes ago. My camera isn't very good for night pics, but I wanted to capture this first major storm of the season. I'll try to get a day shot tomorrow and post it then. I live in South Central Pennsylvania, so we'll see if the actual storm matches the hype from the meteorologist.
Speaking of wintertime events: On February 19, 1969, I was involuntarily committed to Cherokee Mental Health Institute, where I was held for two months.
I am currently writing a memoir about that time, and in the near future, I plan to open a new blog and post select pieces of the book. But it has never been my intention for that story to migrate over to this blog. I have always felt that these were two separate events and never quite got the connection between my struggles with weight and the consequences of my "Better Living Through Chemistry" era.
Back track: After I graduated (1968) from high school, I left Iowa and split for California and embraced the pharmaceutical delights of the day: LSD, marijuana, and speed (bennies). My boyfriend at the time was a drug dealer and just plain bad news.(Cherokee Mental Health Institute,
Cherokee, Iowa: August 30, 2004)
To make a long story very short, my grandparents talked me going back to Iowa "to get my head back on straight."
I agreed only because I wanted to be closer to Pennsylvania, where another young man lived (he later became the father of my only child, my husband, and then ex-husband). Somehow, the flawed logic of an 18-year-old girl started off a chain of complicated events that resulted in Woodbury County, Iowa, deeming me "mentally incompetent."
I probably wouldn't have even remembered much of this time--it was rather traumatic, and I certainly spent 30+ years trying to hide that aspect of my life--but I, a confirmed packrat, kept the 90+ letters that Jeff and I exchanged during that time. The letters offer a lens into that fascinating time in history, though my heels were pretty much cooled while I was incarcerated.
At that time, I was close to normal weight, and I actually lost a few pounds while I was at Cherokee--the food was unspeakably dreadful, such delights like green scrambled eggs having the consistency of a water-logged sponge. It's a wonder I didn't die of food poisoning.
As I combed through my letters, I was struck by my constant references to food: meals I had to eat, meals I wished I could have eaten, noshing evening snacks on the ward, elaborate descriptions of Sunday dinners. I don't actually remember any of this obsession with food, but the letters offer irrefutable proof.
The most interesting connection comes from my hospital records, which I requested in 2002, in the opening sentence of my mental evaluation:
Miss Semple, a slightly overweight 18 year old female, was cooperative, pleasant, rather cheerful and somewhat adolescent in manner. She wore poorly applied eye makeup which gave her a slightly unusual appearance. She responded quickly and with fairly good efficiency. Some manifest anxiety was noted in her tendency to repeat questions before answering.
Isn't that amazing?
The fact of my weight carried (excuse the pun) the weight of my evaluation, even over my "poorly applied eye makeup" (I had been crying), obvious adolescence (well, duh), and "fairly good efficiency" (scared shitless, convinced I was insane, and trying not to be "found out").
The-girl-is-FAT.
Talk about a major strike against me.
Fortunately, I was eventually able to con my way out of the institution. In the end, my doctor proved to be a good guy, funny, and compassionate. But he was a product of a culture that defined women by their bodily shape, and I was not only a druggie, but I had made the egregious blunder of being chunky (opposed to being Twiggy-esque, a popular stick-thin model).
I don't think that attitude has changed too much.
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