Saturday, 29 September 2012

Fucking ridiculous.

Is it really too much to ask that there exist someone in the world who would quite like to fuck me?

Or am I actually going to spend the rest of my life lusting after all the beautiful people I know who wouldn't look at me twice...

Seems a distinct possibility.

Dear people. Fuck me, or stop being so fucking fuckable. Deal?


Tuesday, 18 September 2012

Hello and welcome to ketosis

This feels amazing. My life, I mean. My life at the moment seems so amazing.

I've been on and off low-carb for the past five weeks, and I can't even tell you how much better I feel when I am, and how shitty I start feeling when I start on the starches and sugars again. I really feel like this is the answer. No grains, no sugars, limited fruit, limited starchy veg, unlimited other veg, dairy, meat, fish, eggs, herbs and spices, water water water water, and occasional very dark chocolate. I'm not counting calories. I'm not even tracking macronutrients. I have enough of a sense of the energy contents of foods, and enough diligence reading labels, to roughly know what I'm eating. But I don't plan out my meals any more. I don't stress over reaching or not reaching arbitrary numbers.

I eat when I'm hungry. And I eat varied, delicious, balanced meals of proteins, fats, and vegetables. And my blood sugar is so ridiculously stable that I often only end up eating twice a day, because my satiety lasts so long that it can take a good six hours or more to get hungry again. And when I do get hungry, it's not the stabbing, urgent, crazed hunger that makes you want to grab the nearest thing and scarf it down, it's just a gentle reminder that I should start thinking about food again. I'm losing my phobia of decent sized meals. I'm pretty much over my phobia of fats.

And do I crave carbs? Not really. Yeah, sure, sometimes I feel like something starchy would be amazing, but actually I know it wouldn't be. Because carbs actually aren't all that interesting. They have little taste, little texture, little interest value. We use them to bulk out meals, because they're cheap. That's the only thing they have going for them, really. I am spending a heck of a lot more on food. But that's fine. My health is worth more to me than money. And since I don't buy processed foods, or eat out often, or drink anything other than water except very occasionally, or waste food, I reckon in the end I don't spend much more than anyone else.

I have so much energy for life. My body feels happy with me. If I take in starches and sugars, I almost instantly get bloating and digestive issues, not to mention zippy blood sugar and fuzzy mental state. I actually think maybe I'm a bit gluten-intolerant, since wheat seems to give the worst reaction. So grains are completely out for the moment. I think in the future, when I'm no longer trying to lose weight, I might try adding back potatoes and other tuber starches a bit more frequently, but I don't hugely miss them. I made the most fucking amazing cauliflower soup yesterday, and it was so thick and creamy that I don't think I'll bother putting potato in soup ever again.

I guess it's all about finding what works for me. It's about not restricting my life according to what societal dietary norms, or conventional/governmental wisdom, or 'common knowledge' thinks is right. Because once you start actually researching the nutrition, you find out that most of the things we think we know about a 'healthy' diet are actually complete nonsense. As a history student, I deal with experts talking bullshit for a past-time, but that we're bullshitted to so comprehensively about something so personal and fundamental as out own health sickens and horrifies me. But I'm not out to force-convert anyone. Health is a personal journey, and what works for one person is disastrous for another.

For the moment, I'm just happy with how I'm doing.

And I beat my best long-run this morning, taking my longest to 9 miles, or 95 minutes. Felt amazing. Just... yeah. Good times are here again.

Monday, 10 September 2012

Square One... Thousand

I got back to uni this weekend, following the worst week I'd had in a while. Nothing happened, no disasters, no nothing. I just made some really bad choices. I fucked up. I stopped caring, and then it was so easy just to not care at all.

But it's no big deal, because I'm learning from it and moving on. It's sort of like this summer, these past three months I've been away from uni... to be honest, I've had better summers. Last week I was feeling like I was back to square one, that everything I've achieved was melting away, that really I was a failure and every success had been illusory. I felt like I was going round in circles, because I was relying on university to snap me out of my funk, just like I was this time last year when I started to lose weight, just like I was the year before when I... achieved very little beyond isolation. I felt like I kept having to start over.

But the thing is, right? It's not the same. This time last year I was obese, now I'm a healthy weight. This time last year I could only just run one mile; this morning I ran six, and although it's an effort, it's not hard. This time last year I had barely anyone I wanted to meet up with when I got back to uni; this year I have handfuls.  This time last year I was testing out exactly how few calories I could eat in a day; this year I've learned what I should be eating in terms of nutrition, as well as to listen to my body and what, when and how much it wants. I know how to do this, even if I don't always do it. Last year I wouldn't have had a clue. When I look back at myself a year ago, I barely recognise myself. The way I think about myself has changed so much, and though I'm still far from having a confidently positive self-image, it's better than it's ever been before, and that's no exaggeration. What I've achieved in terms of general happiness and peace of mind is of immeasurable value.

Even this summer, when I've had so many slip ups and so many set backs, in lots of ways I've still succeeded. I've started learning to drive, something that has been terrifying me for years, and actually I really enjoy it. I've pushed my longest run up from one hour to one hour 25 minutes, and I know I can go further, and I want to. I've been very very scared, several times, but I've made myself go for honesty over evasiveness, and I don't regret any instance of it. I've realised that some things are not my problems to solve. I've worn dresses and shorts in public and of my own volition and felt good in them. I've been abroad on my own, and proved to myself that whatever I want to do, I can do it, on my own. I've found a way of eating that feels natural and intuitive and logical to me, after deciding that societal mores and governmental guidelines can sod right off and I'll do my own research thank you very much.

I've proved that all I need is to take care of myself. I'm the only thing standing in my way.

I may be starting a new year, but I am the furthest from square one I've ever been. And the game is on.