eating disorders, cont...

I’ve been plagued with every manner of eating disorder in my short life. the first started with the plain irritation of being irrefutably too thin. at the wrong time. like when I was 12. every single one of my friends were on diets. in high school, the grapefruit and egg one was big, as was Atkins, or, the “I only eat lettuce and carrots” one. when I’d go to these “I will not eat, but I will cook for you!” friends homes, they’d delight in stuffing me with grilled cheese sandwiches and piroshki - because as anyone on a diet knows, there’s nothing better than watching other people eat what you won’t… with the secret hope they’ll get fat, right?

up until college, I could still eat a bear - not a real one, but I could out eat anyone, and never gain an ounce. then something happened. all the girls around me, as usual, were on a diet. it got to me. I thought, maybe I was too fat? this was the first time this had occurred to me, so I too went on a diet, a very restrictive, college freshman type of diet. I’d have one box of instant oatmeal with a carton of milk in the morning, and a nice, hot, stove top ramen at night. period. I must’ve lost a lot of weight, but I liked it. I felt good. in control. I felt sexy and powerful and I thought, I had this! until I got really hungry, and m & m’s and chocolate and peanut butter and chips and pretty much anything else not tied down, started calling my name. loudly. and so it began. the nightmare. and it always was at night, mostly. there seemed to be a part of me in control during the day. but when the lights went on, and dusk settled in, let’s face it, I was hungry, and, I did not have a plan. the only plan was to not eat. but the part of me that wanted to eat seemed to have more say, and more power, and so another day would be ruined by a giant binge, and once you get started, I mean, why stop? it’s all ruined anyway, right?

not gonna lie...

…writing a blog is not fun. I’d think twice about it. there’s probably a zillion blogs online now, or zines. you know what a zine is, right? they’re magazines without the MAGA part. nothing to do with trump, fyi.

o.k. writing can be fun, but doing it online…hello? anyone there? besides the bots, I mean.

there’s a lot of talk about community on the internet. how important it is - community’s immunity, etc. on facebook, you have your facebook community! but, hey, it’s community!

enter wide eyed emoji here.

dating sites are interesting- you chat till you decide to meet, then you do. I’ve known half a dozen people get married after meeting on tinder or match and they are, initially, in the truest of love. don’t be fooled though, that ol’ divorce rate can haunt online matches as well.

fat camp... the heroes journey

you know that ten pounds, we all seem to want to lose? well, maybe not everybody, but, it seems like most people want to improve their health, or their waistline. especially their waistline. i guess the new science is letting us know that our girth, the width, the measurement of our waistline you know, at the belly, the belly button, um, that could be a great determiner of your longevity, or your health. so, I decided that my waistline needed a little uh, rehab, and I wasn’t quite sure how to make that happen. this all started by the way, when I turned a certain age, which along with that certain age came a certain hormonal change. y’all know what I’m talking about, right? that menopause thing? well, nobody had told me that menopause is sort of this cyclical arc. you know, you start out actually in your twenties and thirties with peri menopause, and before that you get your menstrual cycle.

um. I wonder why it’s called a men-strual cycle? why does it start with men?

anyway, it should be a wo-men-stroll-cycle. I kind of like that better. anyway, um, so it’s all kind of a arc - you know, kind of like the hero’s journey, sort of, by Joseph Campbell. you know how he talks about uh, the different stages that you go through? well, it’s the same with your wo-men-stroll-cycle. it’s like you go thru different stages. you get your period- and why’s it called a period? because maybe they’re letting you know at some point in your life it will stop. period. the end . that’s probably why it’s called your period. so, even though you get it now, period. it will stop. that was probably a good reason why they called it a period.

but anyway, when I found out in my 40’s that I was in peri menopause, which I had never heard of, which is before, as opposed to after, then what happened is, um, it was with my friend Judy, we were um, having hamburgers. because you know when you’re having your period which stop/ slash means it will stop at some point, you crave certain things. a lot of women crave chocolate, or meat, red meat, and that could be from the loss of iron, um because when you’re sloughing off all that you know, blood. I’m not good with blood by the way. I mean that kind of blood was ok, and when I say was, you can obviously understand that I am in the post menopausal phase. in other words, I’ve stopped my period. it’s a period. it ended.

so what happened is, during all this, my waistline decided to gain two inches. now, was this because of my hormonal changes? was this because of other things going on? I don’t know if I’ll ever really know the answer because I can’t go back there 15 years now when it all started, starting.

but what ended up happening is, I did get rather a wider girth. um, and as I mentioned in the beginning, the technology of measuring your waistline at the belly button to determine the state of your health is sort of the new modality, so I felt I better lose some inches, off this mystery girth that decided to uh, show its face.

and, so, I went to fat camp.

i’m not fat, you guys, just FYI. but there’s this skinny fat thing they have. it’s when you don’t appear to be carrying extra weight, but your body is composed of more fat than muscle, or something proportionately that is not appropriate. so anyway, so I went to fat camp where I hoped to lose the fat.

there was just one problem. I didn't.


I don't really live in Los Angeles, FYI...although the contact form shows a very pretty map of LA. don't get me wrong. I like Los Angeles! as a matter of fact, I could say, I love LA!

where I live now, which shall remain secret, in case someone gets a crazy idea to post my real location, and tour buses start going back and forth at all times of day and night in hopes of catching a glimpse of my famous self, my neighbors will not be pleased. at all.

I could be famous. my friend Kim tells me that. all. the. time. as a matter of fact, Kim means it definitively, as in right now! I am famous. when I was at the gym yesterday, the trainer said I was famous. is this a sign? is the universe encouraging me to embrace my new state?

that of course, is what led to covert operations per the actual location of my home/office. because, let’s face it. it’s both. a home, and an office. aren’t they all becoming that way? don’t we all work out of our homes? ok. no, we don’t all work out of our homes, or I wouldn’t have a gym to go to, where the coach said that not only was my bench press lookin’ pretty good, but that I was famous.

it all started with medicare

in california, where I live, there’s that covered ca insurance thing - until it’s decimated by the powers that be. no matter. I choose to not go to doctors. I don’t jive with all that pharmacopeia, nor do i opt for surgical slice and dice, or mystery drugs with never ending side effects - not the same sides you get in restaurants, mind you …side of fries, side of tots, side of slaw. drug side effects? they can overpower the main dish, and kill ya.

then I turned 65. turning that is, 3 days after xmas. this evil deed was bestowed upon my unsuspecting new born self, because 3 days after xmas found everyone in my family crawling through personal armageddons or alcoholic comas from all manner of holiday shenanigans. understandably, not one human was interested in celebrating a tiny tots birthday, with just 3 days to regroup for the upcoming New Years eve debacle.

so, yeah. do not get born on 12/28.

the issue for me is - it’s too late. it’s in the books. done. solid. and medicare knows that, and kept sending me letters I didn’t open, until I did. those letters said I had to sign up for medicare or be penalized. is that a threat? it felt like a threat. a financial threat, but a threat none the less.

hashtag #65

i did not plan this well, this whole aging thing. I mean, my brain got stuck somewhere between the ages of 16 and 17, and the meter hasn’t budged much since.

I think young. I act young. I still wear shorts. Some people, who won’t be named, (you know who you are), think I’m waaaay too old to wear shorts! My butt, by the way, my bootie, that is in said shorts, is tiny. I do not have a big bootie. At this stage of the game, I suppose that will have to suffice. It’s not like I’m really impressing anyone anymore. As I said, this age thing is a brand new dimension. Ready, set, go! Get me in the zone…just not that twilight one.