18 March 2015

Musings on Arrogance

A girlfriend of mine posted this cartoon, which I obviously love for a million reasons.  Just all the yes.  This is what it is totally like to be scientifically minded in a society deeply entrenched in anti-intellectualism.  Pure perfection.

Additionally it got me thinking about the concept of “arrogance.”  It is term that gets thrown around a lot.  I especially see it thrown at women who refuse to let their own expertise be devalued.  Especially if they are unwilling to impart that expertise, on demand, as requested by (mostly) men.

I think it plays into a larger cultural trend.  While I am not saying that science-types are never genuinely arrogant, believe me, white dudes with Ph.Ds. have absolutely cornered the market on asshattery, I do think that we are quick to apply the term arrogant when we mean other things. I think people throw around the word “arrogant” when they really mean:

·         Challenging my worldview without appropriate soothing of my fragile ego.
·         Challenging my position of privilege by implying that my word is not fact due merely to said privilege.
·         Implying that I am not as smart as you about any given thing.
·         Implying that higher education might create a more comprehensive view of a topic (runs contrary to “bootstraps” social theory).
·         Refusing to entertain my nonsense when all facts point in another direction.
·         Refusing to ignore or recant your lived experience just because I don’t want to believe it.
·         Refusing to recant your lived experience in the face of me having personally never experienced it.
·         Unwillingness to engage in “good faith” arguments.
·         Refusing to provide education on demand (often related to “good faith” and “devil’s advocate” arguments).
·         Refusing to engage in “debate” when there is nothing to be debated.
·         Generally just refusing to engage in all the nonsense because it is not your job to hand educate all people, especially those who are willfully choosing to be ignorant of any given topic.
·         Implying that you have a comparable knowledge base even when you are not part of that subject’s privileged club, or an equal in the eyes of the social hierarchy.

The great irony here being that most often, the person tossing around the word “arrogance”probably means “refusal to yield to my own arrogance.”

So yeah, scientist are going to seem arrogant a lot if these are things that we label as arrogance.  I think many “pure” scientists come across as aloof, or un-personable, because they are just not interested in engaging people who have no intention of learning, or who are only there to refute every detail in the name of some myth-based world view.  If I were a climate change scientist, I just could not be bothered.

Also, science is not a service industry.  Your plumber and mechanic may not act like you are a moron (assuming you are male of course) because they want you to come back.  Scientist do not feel that burden.  The science will be here, whether you like it/need it or not. 

So yeah, we scientist are arrogant jerks.  Assuming you define that arrogance as “not acting like your personal ideology concierge.”  And that, my friends, is why I am not in academics anymore. All the goddamn other people.

04 March 2015

You Know That Sound When...

There is this thing called misophonia.  In short it is an extremely strong response to certain sounds.  I don't mean like "hey we all hate the sound of snowblowers" I mean like "if you do not stop slurping your coffee I will leap over this table and punch you in the face." Because, honestly, that is how I sometimes feel. I hate to self-diagnose, lest we fall into the "labeling every little quirk OCD when OCD is really a complex and debilitating mental disorder" trap, but I will say that I have major misophonic tendencies.

Honestly though, it explains a lot about my quirks and upbringing.  My mother, who also appears to be a sufferer (for lack of a better word), was militant to the point of extremism about table manners.  You chewed with your mouth shut. You chewed as quietly as humanly possible. You didn't slurp or gulp. You didn't clang silverware...basically meals happened in a police state of good manners. Big picture, I am actually thankful for this.  Having even quasi-decent table manners is a really easy way to look like you know what you are doing.  The bar for basic politeness is set so low, that mastering these skills has been really helpful. But at the time? I thought she was just being the goofiest Mom in all of Momdom.

Now I get it. Oh sweet mother of mercy, I get it. She honestly couldn't handle the noise of 7 people around a table all going to town on the food and cutlery.  I am now my mother and she is me.

Of course, this did create some conflation of the issue when I was suddenly out in the world as a quasi-adult.  Chris' family did not get this kind of training.  They are soup slurping, coffee gulpers who often wield utensils like Viking warriors once handled axes.  So, in midst of culture shock, I assumed that my feelings of not enjoying the meal-sharing experience were just because I was being the most stuck-up bitch who ever bitched. I told myself to get over it, not to be so judgy and just roll with it. (This is actually solid advice, and had the misophonia not come into play, this would have been the end of it. I am not the table-manners avenger after all.) But that idea did nothing to soothe the honest-to-goodness sense of physical discomfort that eating around them (and many other people) caused. I had one- first, last and only- Thanksgiving with his extended family and just realized that...NOPE. No can do.  I love his big, loud, wonderful family, but we can not eat together en mass with my sanity intact. My problem, not their's, but there you go.

As it turns out, that may be because I am having a real-deal physiological response to the sounds. That feeling that I have to leave right now or risk yelling at my child for eating an apple? That is a real thing.  My reluctance to make Pad Thai, not because we don't love it, but because the sound of Chris eating the noodles makes me contemplate investment schemes for his life insurance pay-out? Also a real thing. Dear goddess, the random gunfire of first person shooters? The tedious unmusical "soundtracks" to games? This is why I can't play many computer games. Well, also my tragic spacial and directional skills, no motor control for buttons and general sense of vertigo from first-person perspectives, but the sounds don't help.  Improvisational jazz? I will end you.

I am fortunate. For me it isn't really a crippling issue.  I have, to date, been able to merely think about kicking someone in the throat for gulping a glass of water.  So, for that, we thank the universe. My relatively low-key life of privilege also helps...I don't have to expose myself to many situations where it is an issue. Not having to deal with endless co-workers or clients generating the general cacophony of daily-life saves me no end of heartache.  I also can have the TV or radio running so as to create a non-offensive set of background noises...this as it turns out has been key.  Chris always wondered why I liked having something running in the background, even if I am reading or working. Well, now you know.

However, I can totally see how this could be a huge issue in living one's life. I know for sure that I can never go to a Panera ever again now that they offer noodle-bowls, but I can't say for sure I could cope if avoiding that was not an option.  It is also hard to have people respect this issue because really, you can't ask them to not breathe/drink/eat.  Some stuff sure. I mean we all hate the sound of nail clipping because for fucks sake, that is not meant to be done public! The general decline of public politeness has created many more triggers, but still, accommodating all my sound sensitivities is just a lot to ask of a world.

So, if you see me in headphones at the bus stop? I do want to talk, I just can't listen to the neighbor's chainsaw for one more second. I am not watching the TV, put on whatever you want, I just need to not hear the un-rhythmic clang of a zipper in the dryer.  I am not cringing away from my spouse or children because I don't like them (and holy hell this one is the hardest to mask!) I just can't deal with the frequency of your breathing right in my ear.  I will handle it, you all just carry on, but know, it is totally me, not you.

25 February 2015

Jamberry Manicure Tests

While I don't really plan on blogging about this a lot (I have no intention of turning this into a "commercial" space) I am now a Jamberry Consultant. Basically Jamberry makes really pretty (and super durable) nail wraps to use in place of nail polish for long lasting manicures and pedicures. Since having nicely done nails and toe nails is the one thing I usually do for myself in terms of beauty maintenance (well, that and waxing my face, oh dear goddess the endless mustache waxing!), these really appealed to me. Since I am now a distributor, I figured I would mention it once here and place a link in the sidebar and/or page header just in case anyone wants more information or needs a "dealer." Full disclosure, any Jamberry related links will be to my personal Jamberry site and could thus benefit me. No one is obligated, but they are affiliate links and I wanted to be upfront about that.
For the one Jamberry post I am going to do here, this is my "7 Day test." Basically, you apply an accent nail, or two, in the Jamberry nail wraps. You then do the rest of your nails with your regular polish and compare how they hold up for the week. Since I am also super into Shellac Gel Polish, and have my mum's home kit on permanent loan, I did some nails with that for additional comparison.
Day 1: Shellac Gel Manicure, Wet-n-Wild SHINE polish and Jamberry Wrap in Sweet Nothing.

Day 2: Managed to slice a chunk out of the shellac with a Chef's Knife, like a genius! The traditional polish appeared dry the night before having cured for 4+ hours, yet still got all "textured" from my sheet as I slept.
Day 3: This is the opposite, non-sliced hand. This is my dominant hand so it sees some wear and tear.

Day 4: Regular polish is now chipped (though that is a personal record for me, generally if I get two days out of a regular manicure it is a lot) Jams and Shellac look good.

Day 5: Regular polish looking cruddy. My nail is actually broken under the Jam thanks to our dining room table rehab project, but holding up just fine with the nail wrap in place.

Day 6: Nail under the Jam broke, but I was able to just clip the nail down and smooth the edges with the wrap staying perfectly in place!

Day 7: I would say over all the Jamberry held up the best, with the Shellac a very close second. Shellac is lifting a little near the cuticles (and my thumb done in the same gel polish had a strip pull right off!) while the Jam is still nicely sealed.
All together I would put the Shellac home kit and the Jamberry wrap at similar wear quality. Both take roughly the same time to apply, a block of time equal to how long it takes to apply two neat coats of regular polish. However, the gels and wraps pull way ahead when you realize they are "apply and go." Once on, you are dry and ready to rock unlike regular polish which is 15 minutes of application then at least an hour of drying. I personally wound up preferring the Jamberry wraps because, for the same effort, they look way fancier! For the price and time, it looks like you spent big bucks (and so many hours) at the salon.
If anyone does want more info, contact me here or at knitpurlmanicure {at} gmail {dot} com or check out the Jamberry site at http://knitpurlmanicure.jamberrynails.net/ I do have adorable sample packs if doing your own "7 Day Challenge" looks like fun.

23 February 2015

Healthcare is Hard Work

...well at least getting healthcare is hard work.  It certainly is in my life.  Long story short, I had some uterine fibroids, a situation that is pretty much exactly as awesome as you are thinking.  After several months of crazy periods and seemingly endless tests, when I tried to have an IUD placed to treat "a tentative PCOS diagnosis" surprise!!!! There is a mass in the way!  Yiippeeeee! In trying to fix your problem, we discover, like, a gbillion more problems! Isn't going to the doctor just the greatest?

Needless to say it was a veritable roller coaster of misdiagnosis, diagnosis FAT and diagnosis BREEDER. Honestly though, the borderline medical negligence in the face of my horrid fatness pales in comparison to how hard it is to just get to the doctor's office.  When all was said and done, this will have taken 10 medical visits (not counting trips to the lab for blood work because I honestly can't even remember how often I did that...a lot?) that include trips to three separate sites, a half day spent getting surgery and another half day getting ultrasounds done. In total I have spent a full work week and roughly $300 to get this problem addressed.  Monetarily, it is a steal*, we have great insurance, but time-wise? Total nightmare.

I do not know how people do this when they are also expected to be at a place of work for at least 40 hours a week.  I have literally nowhere to be except for two sets of bus-stop duty and preschool drop-off/pick-up.  I am otherwise a free-agent and it was still nearly impossible to get this stuff done.

Of course, the universe really put the screws to me.  Not a single one of these 10 appointments happened without some kind of last minute crisis that endangered my ability to get out the door. Have a physical booked so Chris can be home to watch kids? Nope! Unexpected travel!  Getting an IUD placed? Nope! Have a sick-kid so you can play "Sophie's Choice" about who will be getting medical care today.  Have a pre-op appointment that HAS to happen ASAP? Nope! Giant fucking snowstorm. Have parents coming in to babysit while you have surgery and recover? Nope! Have another giant fucking snowstorm.

Basically, if it is this hard for me, a woman of relative privilege and means, to get healthcare, what chance do most Americans really stand.  I just don't know how anyone who is working to keep a family afloat can possibly be expected to remain well-cared for health-wise in this system.  I can barely manage and I have (theoretically) nothing else to do!**

Bad news for the health-care providers: we do not live in magical fairy lands of live-in nannies, housekeepers, chauffeurs and personal chefs.  Therefore, I am making the choice that most American wind up making: I am no longer going to pursue healthcare for myself.  It is just requires too much of my physical, emotional and mental resources.  New health plan: stay healthy by sheer force of will.  Who's in?

*Though that is a good chunk of change, and could be really crippling for many families in this country.

**Of course we do need to discuss that being a woman, or fat, or *gasp* a fat woman, increases the opportunity cost of basic health care substantially.  My issue could probably have been diagnosed in half as many visits with a mere tenth of the blood work, but I had to overcome a lot of fat stigma and reproductive assumptions first.  That, however, is a discussion for another day. 

23 January 2015

2014 Reading List

When I first started this blog, it was meant to be about books.  While I like what the space has become, and it has been so good for me to have this part of the world be just for me, I do want to get back into the books part.  In 2010, 2011 and 2012 I kept a running log of everything I read that year.  Mostly it was under the auspices of the "52 Books in 52 Weeks" challenge, but I found that it really encouraged me to keep reading and, perhaps more importantly, keep writing about what I was reading.  In 2013 and 2014 I didn't keep the list and really found that I also blogged a lot less. Coincidence? I think not.

This year I am pledging to keep the list (right here!) and write at least once a month about the books I have read.  So far I have read three books and I am working on my fourth! I even have a page in my new bullet journal for books I want to read.** Thanks to KO at Raveling Out for this post that got me started and Ginger at Ramble Ramble for creating the writing group that lead me there.**   That in turn inspired me to actually request said books from the library. So now I can read them, just that easy.

I have also started following and watching the Vaginal Fantasy book club.  For anyone unfamiliar, a group of self-proclaimed "geeky" types read a few books a month that fall somewhere in the Venn diagram of "romance," "supernatural," "sci-fi," "fantasy" and "historical" categories.  Some hits, some misses but always a great time when the group gets together and does the video of the book discussion.

This brings me to the first book I read this year: A Spear Of Summer Grass by Deanna Raybourn. This one falls under the "romance" and "historical fiction" sections (a good choice for those who are not int o the sci-fi/supernatural aspect).  A great story of a woman essentially banished to Africa after being too much a of a rebel for polite society in 1920s Paris. All the usual hilarity ensues, including romance and intrigue, upon her arrival.  In this manner, it is a fairly formulaic romance novel. The plot itself, and to some extent the archetypal characters, didn't light my world afire, but I would still recommend this one, and read it 100 times over.

What separates it from the herd is Raybourn's breathtaking prose.  The descriptions of Africa, and the hilariously sharp and honest words of the characters make this a highly engaging read.  You do have to slog though the usual romance-novel cliches and tropes, but it is absolutely worth it to enjoy the sensation of being completely immersed in the African wilds.  I would say read this one as an amazing example of how to paint a vivid picture of your setting, and as a cautionary tale about classic romance plots.  I could write forever about how the protagonist is a shell of unlikable "exceptional woman with a past" and how the romantic lead is completely devoid of character development beyond classic Harlequin "sensitive rebel with a past," but I would still not be deterred from how great the book was to read.  The sensation of being "right there" more than makes up for the issues of plot and character.

Put this one on your list for a lazy weekend by the fire.

20 January 2015

Food Glorious Food

Clean eating a trend now.  That is pretty good news I guess.  Sure, eating food made of actual food and not odd food by-product disguised as "diet" food, is a pretty good idea for most human bodies.  So sure, lets all "eat clean."  Now, I do eat this way (as much as our resources allow) and I completely understand that I am one of "those people."  That context should be held in consideration when discussing this.

First off, a hearty "well done" to whatever party got this trend going.  Way to capitalize on basic logic and then claim it is a revolutionary new diet system.  As always, the diet industry can be trusted to take the simple act of eating healthy and turn it into big business.  When "clean eating" fails to create weight loss, so much the better! Then a new system can be marketed, and so it goes.

Second, this movement, like all most nutrition movements, really is only for the affluent.  People don't eat poorly (as defined by nutrition standards, no one owes anyone else a diet arbitrarily deigned "healthy") because they don't know that broccoli is better than fruit snacks.  They eat poorly because dollars spent on broccoli don't stretch as far as dollars spent on fruit snacks.  Much like going paleo and stressing about organics, "clean eating" is the realm of the wealthy.

However, since I have been doing this here clean eating for a while, I will say it is pretty interesting what happens. The following is purely my experience, that I have had purely because I enjoy a well-acknowledged position of social/financial privilege.  My choice need not be your choice, my experience may not be yours.

  • I do feel better.  When I eat food that has not been processed, I feel good.  When I eat processed food or take-out, I feel less good.  I may still chose to indulge, but now it is a conscious choice. (This is an important part of eating in a Health at Every Size manner. Though this movement also ignores the "healthy food is expensive" issue, it makes this good point.) 
  • I don't want the processed stuff or take-out as much.  I just don't find that I crave it the way I used to. 
  • Food tastes different.  I now find that processed foods taste "off" to me.  Store bought bread has a funny after-taste.  Take out Chinese tastes very different from my homemade version, and I now prefer the latter.  
I do sometimes marvel though at how different my diet is now as compared to 3-4 years ago.  I was looking back on all my posts about doing Weight Watchers (still have mixed feelings about that phase of my life), cutting carbs and desperately trying to find the magic bullet to be thin.  Ironically, even though I am at my heaviest weight ever, I am probably the healthiest I have ever been in my adult life.  Why? Because I can indulge in middle-class luxuries like access to healthy food, access to safe activity and access to decent healthcare (as arduous as navigating that system may be). So sure, clean eating, I am on it. 

15 January 2015

Once You See it...

Basically the more I learn about feminism, or perhaps more specifically, the more I learn about the vernacular and mechanisms of feminism (I have always been a self-identified feminist) the more I see the anti-feminist rhetoric in every. damn. thing.   While this is a really good thing, the more I see it, the more I can work to break it down, even if only in my tiny little corner of the world, but green goddess on a pony, it is exhausting.  I just feel like I spend all day in a non-stop gale-force wind of anti-woman, anti-fat, anti-equality, anti-choice rhetoric.  Now I am seeing things that maybe I would have never noticed before.

Now, before I move onto today's example of my "Humorless Hysterical Feminism" (maybe that will be my new weekly installment) there are two things you need to know about me:

  1. Before being a SAHM and displaced military spouse, I was in grad school for epidemiology.  I am huge nerd, I know lots of generally useless stuff about diseases and I have a big,big love for statistics. I am my doctor's worst nightmare, I am not even a little bit apologetic about this fact.
  2. I have recently had to work my way through (soon to be completed!) treatment for uterine fibroids. This has just tossed me head first into the awful, murky and generally ineffective world of  "women's medicine." (Or "medicine" as it would be called if we didn't live in a health culture entirely defined by white-male-hetero-normativity.)
So today in my Twitter feed, Morbidity and Mortality Weekly (see fact #1) had a little gem about it being Folic Acid Awareness Week because it is National Birth Defects Prevention Month. Awesome.  I am 100% for good maternal and child health care.  I think we can be doing so much better by women and children.  An ounce of prevention sometimes really is worth a pound of cure.  Being 100% percent supportive of women having access to everything they need for healthy, wanted pregnancies is a pro-choice priority.

However, there is a slight tone to this type of public service announcement.  A tone that is also pervasive throughout any health care women may (try) to receive. That tone is one of "always being careful to ensure your position as an incubator is secure." 

The sentences:

CDC urges all women of childbearing age who can 
become pregnant to get 400 ยตg of folic acid every 
day to help reduce the risk for neural tube defects 
(major birth defects of the brain and spine).


Health care providers should also discuss with 
women any medications they might be taking, 
both prescription and over-the-counter, to 
ensure they are taking only what is necessary.

[emphasis mine]

 send a very clear message that all women who could possibly get pregnant (anyone from puberty to menopause presumably) should always treat their bodies as the perfect host for a pregnancy.  Even if pregnancy is in no way desired.  The second sentence is especially galling because I would like to believe that all doctors are only prescribing treatments that are strictly necessary regardless of that patient's gender or reproductive plans. The paternalistic overtone is that really, sweetie, let your doctor decide if  treating your problem is necessary as compared, of course, to being 100% primed for pregnancy at every second.  

Seeing this statement, and finally identifying what about it I find so problematic also really helped me identify my root frustration with getting treatment for my own gynecological issues (see fact #2).  No one seemed willing to believe me that I wanted to prioritize treating my symptoms over maintaining fertility that I have no plans to use.  I do not want to have more babies.  I do not want to preserve my uterus at all costs.  I do not want the option to "change my mind."  I want to not be running daily 50/50 odds of waking up in a pool of my own blood.  I want to not be house-bound because there has not yet been invented a feminine hygiene product that can staunch the deluge. I think I should be in charge of my life, not my uterus. Heaven forbid I escape diagnosis: FAT, I can just be lumped into diagnosis: baby factory.

You can imagine my relief, my feeling of overwhelming joy, when I saw my new gynecologist yesterday and had him respect these wishes.  When I said "I am not planning any more pregnancies" and he said "great, lets do this highly effective treatment because it is the best choice when fertility is not an issue"...well, I could have wept with joy. 

So yes, I am the most humorless feminist of all.  I am willing to critique the phrasing of well-intentioned public service announcements in the name of better health care for women. Having been up to my eyeballs in trying to get medical care in a culture that prioritizes fertility and treats women's health issues as secondary to men's health....well, something has to give.  

09 January 2015

Snow: We Have NEVER Done This Before!

So RI got some snow.  Only a few hours of steady snow and now it is sunny an beautiful out.  Going to be cold as all hell tomorrow on the ski hill, but hey, winter in New England, What ya gonna do?

Of course the snow does serve to highlight the not so great driving habits of The Great State of Rhode Island (the full, official name).  I know regional driving quirks, and mocking thereof, is not new or clever, but seriously? Since moving here I have really noticed that the "quirks" of RI drivers are a lot more like "wildly dangerous death wishes."

So, in no real order, here are the bits of Driving Safely 101 that 95% of RIers seem to have missed:

  • You put in your lights on when you are using you windshield wipers. Especially here where the rain is often joined by fog so dense you can swim to your mailbox. Just please for the love of all that is holy, make sure people can see you.
  • Stop signs mean STOP. Even on back roads, even if it looks like there is no one around, even at 3am. Always. I have seen people grind downtown traffic to halt in both directions so as to let someone do a left turn into the gridlock.  I have seen people come to a full stop on the goddamn highway because here those YIELD signs actually mean something. Yet somehow,  no one gives a care to the lowly stop sign. 
  • You turn off your high beams when approaching another car.  I know. The roads are dark and winding, ill-maintained and not at all lit.  I understand.  But you will be in a dark-windy-ill-maintained-ditch if you don't get your goddamn halogen stadium lights out of my eyeballs. 
  • Trucks are shitty snow vehicles.  Everyone here drives trucks, the bigger the better. Though very few seem aware that classic rear-wheel-drive trucks are super shitty on less than perfect roads. Hard rain, a single snowflake...trucks lining the sides of roads. Put some sandbags back there and slow down.
  • When you decide to pull out in front of the only car coming for miles, floor it.  Chris and I now refer to this as "The RI Merge" since the habit of waiting until just before a car reaches the intersection, then pulling out at a sedate 5 mph is so common.  If you really can't wait the ten seconds required for the single car (we don't have traffic here, it is not really a thing)to pass, then you better haul ass as you cut in front of me.  Combine this with the stop sign issue and well, you take your life in your hands every time you drive. 
  • Clear off your whole car.  Not just the front. Not just the "important" bits.  All of it. Clear your hood, lights, windshield, mirrors and roof.  This is so you can see, and so people driving near you don't get hit with giant junks of roof debris. Don't be an asshole, grab a broom and clear that snow. 
Now look, I am terrible driver.  I learned to drive in NY, the birthplace of horrible driving.  We tailgate (even if there are no other cars on the road, hell, especially if there are no other cars on the road!), we speed, we feel signals are optional and yield signs are for chumps. I get it. We all have our driving crosses to bear.  I just really want to drive to the library with less than five near misses from people shooting out of side roads and promptly slowing to 10mph as if I am deserving of some manner of punishment. I feel like that is not too much to ask. 

06 January 2015

But I Don't Want to Lose 30 Pounds in 30 Days!

I got a sweet set of weights for Christmas from my mother-in-law.  I have not even used them yet and I am already in love.  No more using two 5lb weights taped together and feeling like I am not even lifting anything when I do bicep curls. No more doing like 3 gbillion reps of every exercise because five pounds doesn't necessarily feel like "work" to anyone who carries a purse (or 50 pound kids, laundry baskets, grocery bags...you get the idea). It is going to be so nice!

Of course new gear means new workouts.  I spent yesterday evening looking for some good arm workouts and/or any good at home workouts done with free weights/kettle bells.  Now, I did find many great resources, but every single one was advertised using this format:

Lose [some number] pounds in only [some value of nanoseconds] with our easy [even fewer nanoseconds] workout. 

The basic gist of all the copy was that by doing this exercise for a mere 6 hours a day and eating only celery (make sure you get the low-fat kind!) you too might lose 3 ounces of body weight and finally be worthy of living again. Of course, if you fail, it is because you didn't want it enough! You have to want it! Do you EVEN WANT IT ENOUGH!?!?!

Nowhere in any of the text did anyone talk about health, or how strength training is good for bone density, or how fitness at any size is good.  Nope. Clearly, the only reason one would ever bother to ever workout is to get thin.  I mean, after all, if working out doesn't make you into a Victoria's Secret model, when even bother?

This didn't sit well with me. Apparently I am not alone in this.  No sooner had I had this thought, I saw this great post by Dances With Fat and though "well, yeah, that explains it."  Exercise culture is far too entwined with diet culture. Thanks to the "War on Obesity" the inherent value of fitness (and eating as well as possible within the parameters of your resources) has been completely lost to the endless quest for some number on a scale.  The "War on Obesity" is not about health at any level, it is war against fat people for merely having the audacity to exist in a body that fails to meet the ideal as defined by white-cis-hetero-men.

In short, I am just feeling pretty resentful that I only have these two choices for workout materials:

  1. The Weight Loss Workouts- all exercise only serves to make you look good, by certain definitions of good, as defined predominantly by white-cis-hetero men and as embraced by predominantly white-naturally-thin-conventionally-pretty women, no focus on health or room for people who fail to meet BMI requirements.
  2. The Muscle Crew- Mostly men who are focused on getting fit (with slightly less weight loss discussion as it is traded for endless winging about "bulking up"), but comes at the price of "do you even lift bro?" attitudes. Still not a ton of focus on health, some flexibility on the BMI thing, but only in the opposite direction because if you fail to get as big as a Volvo with only 1% body fat, you are not welcome here. 
Neither of these main groups have anything to offer me, nor am I likely to welcome within them. All I want is to keep getting fitter so I can keep up with my kids and live my life without my fitness being a limiting factor. (My goals, no one owes anyone fitness.)

The good news is that it is working.  I feel ready to try and make my body do things that are outside my comfort zone, or things that fat people "shouldn't" do.  I am taking my first ski lesson in 10+ years this weekend wearing 2X ski pants that I would never buy before because I didn't think I deserved them at this weight.  The proof was in the pudding today when I had to pick up said weights from the post office.  Having refused to deliver them (being too heavy and all) the thin (and therefore fit and healthy because thinness magically equals good health) postal worker dragged them out to me and watched in awe as I (fat and therefore unhealthy and unfit) lifted the box with one hand and carried it out to my car.  So no, I don't want to lose 30 pounds in 30 days, I want to be able to carry my own goddamn mail. That is really more than enough for me.

05 January 2015

New Year, New Morning Routine

So I finally managed, after many years of trying, to be a person who gets up and works out before the rest of the day begins.  When Chris got in the shower this morning, I went to the basement and did some hill repeats on the treadmill, day one of my 30 day squat challenge and a few yoga stretches so my body doesn't hate me later.  It took a mere 30 minutes and meant that by the time we went to the bus stop I was showered, dressed and even wearing some mascara.  Add in the load of laundry I managed to start and this day was a winner from minute one.

Now, sure, it has been exactly one day, but this is huge for me.  The biggest stumbling block to my sticking with working out is that there is never a good time for me to take a break from all my "work*" and get in that run.  When Liz is home, I hate to spend that time not with her. When Liz is at school I have all the life stuff to do. When both kids are home? Forget it.  Sure, I can run while any combo of them plays in the playroom, but the constant squabbling and interruptions are not exactly conductive to a good workout.  I could do it after bed-time, but then I am on the treadmill at 8pm, which makes bed-time much closer to midnight than is strictly a good idea for my already insomniac/night-owl self.  Basically, I can't be trusted to prioritize this self-care.

Additionally, previous attempts to do the morning workout plan have been diligently thwarted by my family members and the Great Goddess of Nope. I tried to do this when Chris was on the boat and Lizzie, being a classic toddler, somehow sensed my plans to steal 30 minutes for myself and went on a sleep strike of epic proportions.  Between the sleep deprivation and "before the kids get up" now meaning 4am, it was just not on.  Other times have featured major illness on my part (my plans to switch to morning workouts last January lead to a near-hospitalization worthy case of bronchitis that left me needing an inhaler) and other general malarkey like crazy weather requiring me to shovel instead of run, sick kids and or injuries (most often sustained from housework, oh the glamour).  My favorite is still the day I said  "I am going to try and get up and run the morning" which prompted Chris to instantly answer, in what I assume was a blind panic that his sacred morning routine might be compromised, "I think I need to start leaving to work earlier."  Oh really?  You just happen to need to leave earlier the very second I want to take 30 minutes for myself and maybe, just maybe, like 12% of a chance maybe, require you to deal with the kids before 6pm? Yeah, that's what I thought.

The point here is that the starts have finally aligned.  I might actually get a chance to do this, for real, and count on a few minutes of time to take care of myself everyday.  Now, if I can just get my fibroids (oh did I not mention the fibroids? Well, there is a tale of medical wonder for another day) under control I could be on my way to a nice healthy year.

So here's to 2015, you sexy beast, I already like you way more than 2014.

*By that I naturally mean TV and bonbons,  because SAH parenting is soooooooo easy, amirite?
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