Learning to See the Avoided Fat Body

Me now.

In the last few months, I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror. That’s an old behavior. What is new is that I now look at all of my body, instead of the few inches of which I’m not ashamed.

I don’t remember when I stopped looking at my body, or if I ever even started. Like many women—especially fat women (or those afraid of being fat)—I’ve long judged and avoided my body, and considered it (and myself) ugly. I long ago learned to look selectively. Even as a skinny kid, I would only look at my face (and just the parts of it, like my eyes and cheekbones, which I considered less ugly) and avoid the rest. I lived from the neck up long before I’d ever heard that phrase.

Being a survivor of sexual abuse was a part of it, certainly; I rejected my body because it had not protected me in my time of need (and had betrayed me, too. Long deprived, I always hungered for any kind of physical contact). A therapist once assigned me the task of looking at seven-year-old girls, the age of the first sexual abuse I remember. “You’ll see how small little girls are,” she said, “and so helpless.” She was right, of course. (Even years afterwards, I’d still turn away and cry whenever I’d just glance at one of those small faces atop a set of tiny limbs.)

For decades—the skinny ones and the fat—I didn’t know what my body looked like because I didn’t look; I was afraid to look, and I was ashamed to look. I wore poorly-fitting and shapeless clothes to camouflage what I did not want to see. I ordered clothes by mail for convenience and to avoid the visibility (and potential shame) of shopping in public. The idea that I could wear clothes to highlight or accentuate my body was an unknown concept. Of course I preferred to make love in the dark, and struggled to accept the slow caress, the lingering, tender gaze.

Exhibit A: Shapeless clothes (2010)

For the last several months, however, I’ve been using mirrors, cameras, and a tape measure to learn myself, a kind of training in seeing. It is as if I am seeing myself for the first time, seeing what I actually look like, compared to the image I carry around in my head. I also now know that I've spent years seeing myself from outside, as one viewed. I am learning how to see myself and my world from behind my own eyes.

One of the benefits of this training is that I can now tell when I’m doing a “perfect parts” self-gaze, versus simply seeing my body. Also, I no longer measure my appearance based on others’ attention because I now have my own base of knowledge. I know, too, that there is a difference between how my body feels to me and how it looks. Because of my increased muscle tone, for example, I feel (and am) sleeker. I am still carrying excess fat, however, so am still bulgy around my stomach, upper thighs, and butt. 
I can’t (yet) say that I love my body, but I am becoming familiar with it, have learned to see it, and do so with diminishing shame.

Seeing My Mother in the Mirror

When I was young, I idolized my mother, as many young girls do. I thought she was beautiful (and she was), charming, and vivacious; I was none of those. In fact, I never thought I resembled her in any way. I was quite surprised when my younger sister told me (not long after our mother died) that I looked more like my mother than either of my sisters.
And now that I am getting smaller and less fat, I see the resemblance--and am surprised that I never noticed it before. I've come to believe that I couldn't imagine any similarities between my mother and me, and so couldn't see them.

My mother, Mary E. Ursery

As well, I certainly could never imagine competing with my mother or my older sister in anything--perhaps out of fear, or maybe except in areas (such as school achievement, writing, and mechanical ability) in which they'd shown no interest. I also feared self[-assertion, attractiveness, and sensuality (as is common among those who are sexually abused at an early age). In my mind, however, those were attributes that rightly belonged to other women (especially my mother and older sister) but not me. I think, too, that I somehow believed that the only way I could be attractive would be if I became her--with all of her trauma and danger and pain.
These days, I no longer reject my mother, or our many similarities. I see her when I look at myself in the mirror. I fall into her gait while walking down the street. As she did, I take pleasure in a well-turned phrase and a well-cut garment. I have finally chosen to be myself, including the self I share with her.

From Here to There: Photos (NSFW!)

Today I compared two sets of back/butt photos I've taken since making major changes to my food in March and re-starting weightlifting in May.
I find a couple of things interesting: (1) the weight difference is small (only 11 pounds), but the size difference (particularly in my hips, butt, and arms) is quite noticeable; (2) I would look even fatter if my arms weren't raised in the first photo; (3) I eat about 40% more calories now than I did at the beginning; and (4) I never realized how square my butt was!

 

The original photos were fuzzy as my forward-facing phone camera is only 3M pixels,so I sharpened and slightly lightened both photos w/Microsoft Picture Manager. They're still not great, but better. Those were, however, the only changes.

Blasting Through the Ceiling

Today I picked 110 pounds off the floor, five times, in a movement called the deadlift. I have never been more thrilled, or felt more accomplished. I have lifted more weight with my 58-year-old body than I ever thought possible, and this is just the beginning.Lifting heavy weights with your body via compound exercises is a transformative experience. (Compound exercises train several muscle groups at once, and include the front squat, deadlift, and shoulder presses.) Sure, strength training does change the body, and quite quickly. It is one of the fastest ways to lose fat, slim down, revamp your posture, and build muscle. The deadlift (my favorite) and squat work every major muscle group in the body. As well, I’m in and out of the gym in about an hour, and train three times weekly.

Great photo; too bad about the caption. briankrilly.com

But there are benefits of a higher nature. Strength training—because of the focus on your form and concentration—is quite the meditative experience. You have to stay in the present moment to move a large amount of weight with good form. When I’m lifting, everything else falls away.

Fear of the Triple Digits

What’s curious, though, is that I have been close to lifting this weight before, but was afraid to do so. I’ve been back at the gym now for four months, and focused on compound exercises for the last six weeks. In the last two weeks, I’ve deadlifted up to 90 pounds, and then backed off. There was something about triple digits that scared me, even though there’s only a 10-pound difference between 90 and 100. I was also familiar with the concept and benefits of linear progression in weightlifting—adding 2.5 or 5 pounds to the highest weight I’d lifted the last time I was in the gym. It didn’t matter; I just couldn’t step up. The fear (as is true for all feelings) wasn’t based in logic, but stopped me in my tracks.
An excellent article on adult novice women and weight training by Fran Mason, (owner and head trainer at Seattle's CrossFit 206), informs me I'm not alone in that. Apparently this Fear of the Triple Digits is common to adult women new to barbells and strength training. (In my case, I’d done bodybuilding in my late twenties and early thirties, but did little barbell training.) The article is for weight-training coaches, but several sections really spoke to me.
Mason writes, “Women’s expectations are often too low …Many women don’t know we have significant strength potential, [and] that we owe it to ourselves, just as men do, to explore it.” That was me!  For example, although I deadlifted 50 pounds for five sets of five repetitions (also known as a 5x5) three weeks ago, I didn’t think I be able to lift 100 pounds for at least a couple of months. (Where did I even get that idea?) 
Mason had been one of the women she writes about: she started weight training at 40, and has trained for nine years. That gives her a real-life understanding of her adult women clients staring at a barbell for the very first time.
I love how she characterizes the value of linear progression in weightlifting: “Lifting a barbell for strength is like putting money into a 401(k). Deadlifting 100 is like saving $1000 – you’re on the right track, but it’s not enough to live on when you retire. Keep inching it up. You have no idea where the ceiling is. You might lift twice your own weight someday.” (And if you want to be impressed by what a 49-year-old can lift, check out her training blog).
I thank Mason for her article, for her example, and for our great email exchange. Here are my revamped lifting goals for the next 3 months: shoulder press 60 lbs (now at 40), deadlift 180 (now at 110), and front squat 80 lbs (now at 20). Ceilings be damned!

Where Did the Hunger Go?

A lack of hunger is one of the benefits of a pretty high-fat, medium-protein, and (relatively) low carbohydrate food path (aka modified ketogenic food plan). It is also quite weird, and so unlike how I've eaten--and been driven to eat--all my life. And now that I've been supplementing my minerals (particularly magnesium, sodium, and potassium), I don't have cravings anymore, either.

There's also a certain mechanistic quality, which is curious, as well. It isn't to say that I don't look forward to eating certain foods, like salmon, for example. But it does mean that I eat because I know that's something I need to do, versus something I'm driven to do by cravings or sugar crashes/insulin rushes. I generally eat two meals a day, with the occasional snack, such as pork rinds or blueberries. (When I feel like a snack, in fact, I know it's time to eat).

I try to keep my meals about four or more hours apart, primarily so I can keep as low a level of insulin in my bloodstream as possible, one of the tools I learned from Dr. Bernstein's The Diabetes Diet. Though I'm not a diabetic, I was once diagnosed as insulin-resistant, meaning my body's cells had a diminished ability to respond to insulin. Or, as Laura Dolson says, "Insulin resistance happens when the cells essentially don't open the door when insulin comes knocking." This is a major reason I began eating low carb. Anything I can do to not boost insulin unnecessarily, I will do. 

For the same reason, I also make a point of not starting a meal with a carbohydrate, unless it is a slow-acting one, like spinach or salad greens. The one exception is if I'm going to the gym to lift within an hour or so of eating

Bone Broth and Me

Last year I would have bet against anyone saying that I would be making--and daily drinking!--bone broth. Here I am doing both--and loving it.

My 2nd batch o' bone broth

Bone broth is very tasty, filling, and nutritious. It is also the foundation (along with fermented foods like sauerkraut, which I also eat) of the Gut and Psychology (GAPS) diet, which I don't. I do, however, believe that years of taking antidepressants and neuroleptics, living with lots of anxiety, and eating mounds of carbs and other sugars all contributed to poor health (including excess weight)--and a condition called leaky gut. That was one of the reasons I started eating sauerkraut (a known--and cheap--probiotic) and am now slugging down bone broth every day, with the goal of healing my gut. For more info on gut healing and leaky gut, see this thorough intro to the topic from paleomom.com.

Why bone broth? It's loaded with gelatin and minerals that are good for you. (Here's more info and a couple of recipes from DIYHealth blog. The one downside to bone broth is that

The Looking

What happens when I add a much-increased awareness of my electrolytes, regular weightlifting , and eating (mostly) clean and low-carb? I am feeling better, physically, emotionally and mentally, certainly. I'm about 9 inches smaller, though have lost little weight. I am also aware of others' gazing at me, and my own increased satisfaction when I look at myself.

From www.hellobeautiful.com

In the past, I would feel anxious and unsafe if I felt I was attractive to others. I would frequently disassociate while emotionally fearing a risk of harm, particularly sexual assault. (Not surprising, of course, for someone who survived childhood physical and sexual abuse.) I would either (a) stop taking care of myself and absent-mindedly begin to eat in ways that didn't serve me or (b) absent-mindedly get in a relationship--with someone else.
Today, I don't have that low-level anxiety and fear humming inside me; I know I can protect and care for myself. Being attractive is no longer about being at risk.
I came to this place, I think, over the last couple of years. For example, last year I bought more attractive and dressier clothes--even had many of the pieces tailored. I believed that I was worth the expense, and was pleased with how good I felt in those clothes and how attractive I looked (and look) in them.
My current sense of well-being and attractiveness, then, has a foundation of self-satisfaction. Years ago, I would be focused only on how others saw me, not at all how I felt about myself, or what I thought of my appearance. I'm so glad that's changed.

Unsalted--and Suffering

My mood, of late, has been marvelous--no small feat for someone diagnosed years ago as having treatment-resistant depression and major depressive order. (Though the research on the benefits of a high-fat, low-carbohydrate eating plan on mood and mental disorders is inconclusive, you may want to go here.) My mind health has been tip-top. 
Unfortunately, I have been quite fatigued at the same time. (And that is a curious combination: to have an increasingly alert mind and fatigued body.) Although I've been going to the gym (pretty) regularly, I was having to reduce the amount I lifted, and nap when I came home; I was having dizzy spells, and woke up tired.

So I looked up "fatigue and low carb" on the internet and found out that salt--or the lack thereof--might be the likely reason for my troubles. 
Over at the LowCarbFriends bulletin board, for example, Vanessa120 captured my situation in a nutshell: "If you are low-carbing and feel fatigue, headaches, muscle weakness, dizziness, mood swings, lethargy, decreased mental alertness...you need salt."
Except for the mood swings, that was me all over. Quoting The Art and Science of Low Carbohydrate Living (a new low-carb text by Jeff Volek & Stephen Phinney) she stated, "High carbohydrate diets make the kidneys retain salt, whereas a low carbohydrate intake increases sodium excretion by the kidney. Salt and water are more efficiently excreted, which is a good thing as long as you

Staying Ahead of the Hunger

I remember getting major surgery several years ago. I came to, screaming and howling, in my hospital room. A nurse, standing nearby, turned and said, "Press the button." "What?" I yelled. "What button?" She replied, "The one in your hand."

I looked down and there it was--a little plastic thing with a tail snaking to the morphine pump. And press I did.

If the mouse is me, then the cat is hunger!

After the morphine had dulled the pain (and a smile replaced the grimace on my face), she stayed to feed me chips of ice. She also told me something of great value: "Try and stay ahead of the pain."

That advice is extremely relevant now. That is, if I stay ahead of my hunger, I can avoid many types of pain--like fatigue, poor food choices, and that crushing urge to press the nearest carbohydrate into my mouth, and quickly. 

In the video in yesterday's post, Dr. Merritt talks about the value of staying ahead of hunger, and how not doing so causes excessive adrenal wear and tear. One tool she suggests is eating every two to three hours (Bernstein suggests eating every four hours, but doesn't encourage snacking, as Merritt does). 

For me, hunger was the signal to eat, and now learning to eat without it is difficult. Eating high fiber veg, and protein- and fat-dense foods means I'm satiated for quite a while, and may not be hungry when it's likely a good time for me to eat. There are times when I'm just not hungry--even as I reduce the amount of food I eat.

I wonder what other people who low carb do with this challenge?

Interrupting Insulin Resistance

Merritt Wellness (led by Dr. Marlene Merritt) has several YouTube videos on the challenges of sugar (and other carbohydrates), insulin resistance, and diabetes. I value them because they are clear, no-nonsense, and short.
Here's Merritt on what we can do to interrupt insulin resistance. And yes, the solution does include reducing carbs.

Updated: Should I Eat Sucralose While Low-Carbing?

The answer, for me, is no: sucralose makes me hungrier and less satisfied with the food I eat. I also feel swollen when I consume it.

In my recent review of Dr. Bernstein's The Diabetes Diet, I mentioned that he was a big user of artificial sweenteners, and that they--particularly liquid sucralose--featured prominently in several of the book's recipes. I like sweets, and am trying to keep my carbs low, so bought a smallish bottle of liquid sucralose (the powders, such as Splenda, contain a small amount of dextrose, a sugar; the liquids, such as DaVinci syrups, do not) at a local discount store. 

This was not my first time at the sucralose rodeo. I used it last year, mostly in cups of tea. At the time I was eating a fair amount of carbs, so I didn't notice whether the sweetener (which the body does not digest) was affecting my weight or the way I felt.

Da Vinci syrup.

Artificial sweeteners are a contentious issue among low-carbers. Here, the Hardcore Chef (in a bit of a glib manner) lays out some of the pros and cons; note, especially, the reports of sucralose's effect on gut flora. Sucralose, even in a flavored syrup, tastes nothing like sugar, and the taste isn't particularly satisfying. My mouth feels cheated whenever I consume an artificial sweetener ("But where's the sugar?!?" it seems to be saying).

This week, I've used sucralose in tea (again) and an avocado-based mousse (which is normally sweetened with mashed dates). I've already noticed several changes after I started using it. First, my body seemed congested, swollen, as if I was having some systemic inflammation. And I was hungrier and not (as I have been) satiated by medium-fat and -protein meals. In fact, I craved carbs. Yesterday, I exceeded my daily carb limit (but about 15 grams). I've also not lost any weight.

I trust my body: No more sucralose for me.
6/22 Update: Ack! I forgot that I made a recent batch of salad dressing with sucralose. After just 4 bites of the salad (and mind you, I used less than 2 tablespoons of the dressing on it) I started getting a headache and--this was weird--begin feeling like my body was swelling or thickening. Then my stomach began to get funky.
This was all very curious--until I remembered the Hardcore Chef's mention of headaches as problem for some who consumed sucralose.
So, down the drain went the salad dressing. I drank a lot of water, took some taurine and B-vitamins, and will soon be eating some sauerkraut to boost gut flora likely decimated by the sucralose.
I'm especially pissed, however, as I'm doing my weekly weighing tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure the news won't be good.

Book Review: The Diabetes Diet

Richard K. Bernstein, M.D. The Diabetes Diet: Dr. Bernstein's Low-Carbohydrate Solution. Little, Brown & Company, 2005.

Unlike the American Diabetes Association, Richard Bernstein, a medical doctor with Type 1 diabetes, believes the path to health for diabetics--and overweight nondiabetics like me--is an extremely low (low) carbohydrate food plan. He lays it out in The Diabetes Diet.
One of the book's strengths is his clear description of why high carbohydrates are fat magnets (they 1. boost insulin; 2. efficiently store carbs as fat and 3. turn off an enzyme that helps the body burn fat) and harmful for diabetics and non-diabetics alike.

Low-carbing, Bernstein says, saved his life. He was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at 12, way back in 1967. Diabetics died quite young, and high-carbohydrate food plans were the norm. In addition, blood glucose meters were very expensive and sold only to hospitals.
As an adult, Bernstein didn't like the diabetes-related health problems he experienced, nor his doctor's inability to do much about them. Bernstein did so research, and got his own glucometer, then saw that blood sugar levels--and need for insulin--were significantly lower when he consumed fewer carbs. (He notes, here, that the ADA long opposed access to glucometers for people with diabetes, and still opposes their use by diabetics who don't use insulin.) Bernstein kicked his doctor to the curb, went to medical school himself, and started a practice serving those with diabetes and/or excessive fat. He has thrived for 64 years with Type 1 diabetes
A reader would be wrong to think Bernstein's is just like other better-known low  carbohydrate food plans and diets. Unlike Atkins, South Beach, and the Sonoma diets, for example, there are no phases in Bernstein's food plan: you get low and stay low. That makes sense to me. I mean, what's the point of getting off of sugar and other carbohydrates only to reintroduce them?(In contrast, however, see the results of this study.) He also scoffs at the value of the glycemic index, and rejects it.
Bernstein's plan is pretty simple:

Technology: Friend and Foe

The good news: cameras on telephones these days capture the shape and contours of the human body with quite a lot of detail.

The bad: ditto, particularly if one has never seen a picture of one's naked back and derrière before.

Krash!

I should have known, but I didn't.

Most of last week I was dragging around--and I mean d r a g g i n g.  I was lethargic, and spent as much time as possible sleeping. In fact, I couldn't get enough of it.
Late Friday afternoon, however, I started feeling better--and I didn't know why.  And then I remembered something I'd read on Laura Dolson's low-carb blog about a nasty topic called carb crash.
Short version: Limit your carbs significantly and your body begins runs out of glycogen and turns to your fat stores (which, in turn, triggers ketosis) to power you through the day. The experience of transitioning from one energy source to the next, however, can feel (to use a scientific term) like shit: the carb crash.

The Locomotion

I now understand why portly people walking quickly might evoke laughter from others: There's all this busyness that the arms have to do to propel one forward-- while the rest of the body moves in half-time. The look is much like a wind-up machine. This is one of the results of having  a fat and flaccid core.
I found this out after doing some ab work over a couple of days at the gym. My stomach muscles were sore, so I held them tightly. I then noticed my arms weren't moving nearly as much when I walked. I noticed, too, that my shoulders came down and I was more relaxed across the chest and even in my throat.
Now when I'm walking, I make a point of relaxing my arms. That way my stomach muscles propel my body, a much more efficient way to walk.

Getting More Hardcore with Carbs

Lowering the amount of carbohydrates I consume is a major part of my food changes, primarily because of the link between sugar and diabetes, a family history of diabetes, and an A1C (blood glucose test diabetes) level of 5.5. As well, I am and feel bloated, sluggish, and sometimes ache when I consume lots of carbs.
My definition of "lots of carbs" keeps changing. Two years ago, I regularly consumed 400-500 grams of carbs daily (if not more--easy to do with the mounds of rice and oatmeal I ate). Even when I cut back and started tracking my nutritional intake, I never really measured all of the carbs I ate--I didn't count the ones in vegetables or coconut milk, for example. (And then I just stopped counting carbs at all...)
Carb Consciousness: Take II
I'm again back to being conscious about what and how I eat, and have been slowly edging toward getting my carbs down to 40, and then 30 grams daily.
That is a massive, massive change. I've been aiming in that direction for the last few days, and it is very challenging.
Now I'm asking myself, "Why? Why 30?" It is, of course, to get myself into losing weight more quickly by triggering ketosis, and burning fat. Now, I've lost 9 pounds in about 5 from going to the gym (kind of) regularly, eating lots more vegetables, boosting the protein a smidge, and cutting back (but not eliminating) fruit and chocolate. That rate of weight loss must not be enough for me. I want, no crave--more, faster.

For the last couple of days I've been using Ketolog, a great, simple and free Android carb-tracking program. The information I've gleaned is eye-opening. I tracked the carbs for everything I ate in my first meal of the day, including the spinach and garlic and eggs. Those, plus 4 ounces of sweet potato, got me to 40--in one meal.
So, for now, I'm just going to focus on a goal of 60 daily grams of carbs, and call it good.

After Satiation, What?

I've never been in this place before, and I don't know what to do.
Between the probiotics and food changes, I think I now know what satiation feels like--and the difference between being hungry and wanting to eat. Previously, they felt like one and the same thing.  Now, knowing the difference--because I can experience it now--makes me feel both sad and empty.  And I don't know why.

Progress? Of Course, Then, a Meltdown

I was going to write about choosing a goal weight, but then, you see, I started to cause problems for myself.
I've weighed myself three times (including today) in the past month. I've lost 5 pounds without being weight-focused.
But with that news this morning came the emotional thrashing about in its many guises:
--the calculating ("Well, if I do have a goal weight, should I have a goal date?  A year? Hmm...can I get there faster? How fast?" and so on);
--the fantasizing ("My stomach will be so much smaller");
--the other-directedness ("Should I take some 'Before' pictures now so people can see my progress? Should I show my face?"); and, finally...
--the eating: all clean, but lots of it, heedless eating, unpresent eating.
I must have scared myself somehow, because all this was surely bells of alarm.
So now--maybe I'll just coast in the land of no-change, no decision,  for a while. Yes, I'll do that.

The Challenge of Not Doing That Next Thing

I've got a problem, an insidious one that has plagued me for years, but which I am only now becoming aware.
I call it the Pile It On problem: When a project is going well (as is my recent food life), I will come up with one, two, or three more changes to add, changes that will get me "better" (i.e., cuter, slimmer) faster.
Perhaps there's a part of me that thinks, "Well, if this is good--a few more changes will be great!
The most recent example: In the last month I have:

• stopped eating all grains and legumes
• started writing my food down (the what, mostly)
• stopped eating sausage (as of yesterday)
• started eating a lot more vegetables

Now, those are some pretty major changes, and I'm quite fortunate that the vast majority of them were painless to make (indeed, just arose within me). I'm happy about each of them. In fact, the only item I formally committed to was eliminating grains for 90 days; the rest are delicious bits of gravy.

Yet there's been a nagging voice I've been swatting away, one telling me to do more, because I've done so much already. That is, I need to pile more on.

What would more look like?

• Tracking my carbs
• Getting my carbs down to 40 grams daily, or lower (I have been only vaguely conscious of them, although more so of late)
• Tracking the exact amount of what I eat, and when
• Eliminating chocolate and all dried fruit (medjool dates--the final frontier)

Why is this a problem? Mostly because changing food patterns is challenging, and it is easy for me to be overwhelmed. Second, because adding more on now doesn't give me the opportunity to absorb my success with the current changes; the new, the different, and the more become more important, and blot out my the value and importance of what I've currently accomplished. 

So, for now, I'm going to let myself luxuriate in the changes I have made, let them, and myself, be.

Changes: The Good News/the Different/the Undesired

The Good
The grains: Today marks my 30th day off of all grains. There were a few days when I didn't think I'd make it, but I have. My friend Cheryl asked me why I decided to get off of them. I told her it was because I felt better when I was not eating wheat, found that I was eating lots more oats, and decided to see what it was like to be off of all grains for 90 days. 
I've also wondered if certain grain components have affected my absorption of nutrients and contributed to inflammation in my body (you can read more about that here, on the Wellness Mama blog). 
The probiotics: I've been eating raw (and organic, mostly) sauerkraut for about a month to boost my body's ability to take in nutrition by boosting my gut health. A couple of weeks ago I added daily consumption of capsules containing a weird dirt (well, soil)-based blend of probiotics, as well. 
Results: I've had several positive results from these changes: