Tag Archives: diet

It’s not you. It’s the food.

In which I share some of my research about diet and overweight. It turns out dietary fat is fine; it’s the refined carbohydrates – white flour, white sugar – and the HFCS that are fucking killing you and making all those children fat and sedentary.

On January 5th, I started a weight-loss contest with a group of online friends. I weighed 160 pounds. I’m 5’4″ tall, so my ideal weight range is 122 – 150 lbs. I was officially overweight. My gut stuck out farther than my boobs, I was shaped like an old person, and I was tired and lazy.

I tracked my caloric intake, and pretended to be enthusiastic about exercise even though I’ve never particularly liked it. I hit the dietary target of 20% protein, 30% fat, and 50% carbohydrates pretty regularly, although if you’re a vegetarian on a calorie-restricted, low-fat diet it’s really hard to get enough protein.

I limited my fat intake brutally. I drank fat-free milk, bought low-fat cottage cheese and yogurt, cooked with spray oil, ate lots of beans and legumes, and had huge salads just like they tell us to. After all, “everybody knows” that to lose weight, one must restrict calories and exercise more. And that’s what I did.

The only problem is that, as logical as they seem, both of those medical theories have been disproven in study after study. Low-fat diets do not lower disease risk or help in weight loss. Exercise does not help with weight loss because it universally increases hunger, in study after study, making semi-starvation diets impossible to stick to and any weight loss achieved temporary and useless.

And you don’t know that these low-fat/exercise theories of health have been overturned because 1.) the AMA just, you know, hasn’t gotten around to admitting that they accidentally backed the wrong theories for seventy years; 2.) giant corporations who sell tons of low-fat foods don’t want you to know about it; and 3.) the media tends to be conservative about diet recommendations that don’t make their advertisers money.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. Before I learned all that, I successfully followed my semi-starvation diet for eight weeks before I totally fucking lost control of it and found myself eating an entire bag of potato chips without conscious thought and arriving at Mexican restaurants before I even knew I’d decided to go out to eat. I’d lost 14 pounds, but found myself hungry all the time and obsessed with food. Continue reading It’s not you. It’s the food.

So, yeah. Not so much. And you?

In which I’m fat, obsessed with bento, and refusing to see any possible correlation between the two.

Misc

Teh BF’s bento box arrived so I packed a lunch in it and gave it to him today. He seems pleased. My mom has emailed that she needs sci-fi, so I’ll be lugging a pile of books to the post office this week. My eBook auction was up to $102.50, but then the hapless individual who’d bid it that high must have done some comparison shopping and discovered s/he could buy a new one for fifteen dollars more, and retracted! I was disappointed, to say the least.

…aaaaaaaand here’s a gratuitous iThing screenshot of my eBay app, from last night when I was still making bank on the eBook:

iPod eBay Application screen shot

Spring

The weather is wonderful. I walked to work today without a coat on! I saw bees today! This is the kind of mild winter weather I moved here for; screw that Midwestern-style frozen tundra crap.

Fat

I weighed and measured my body this morning. HOLY SHIT. It has gained 11 pounds and 2.5 inches (in girth, not height, sadly) since I got a boyfriend. This is empirical proof that men make me fat. So, yeah, thanks for asking, I’m totally on a diet now… and will remain so, to varying degrees, until I can cut my own damn toenails again without running out of air. Water, walking, and isometrics are now my life. Damn.

…it will be interesting to see whether I’ll choose food or cocktails for dinner tonight, though. I have between 386 – 736 calories remaining today, so I might be able to have a little of both. Yay!

Mail

In other (very exciting!) news, I’ve made an online friend through Flickr and she and I have arranged a swap. She’s sending me a bunch of bento-junk love in exchange for things she can’t get in Japan: Tillamook cheeses, crackers (like Triscuits and Wheat Thins), Mexican hot chocolate, and Neutrogena eye cream.

I can’t wait to get my box of authentic bento junk from Japan! Whee!

Extreme Schedule Change! POW! Zing!

In which I go from hanging out at home every evening to only being home to sleep.

When K came to pick me up for work this morning (we work the same hours on Saturdays), Gramma made a crack about my timing and mentioned that ‘it would have been nice to have been ferried around six months ago, when it was cold out.’ (Oh, yeah, I neglected to mention in the last post that I’ve done that Dumbest Of Things and hooked up with a co-worker. Dude’s desk sits like nine feet from mine. I know, I know, but whatever. Shit happens. Onward!)

I feel like I haven’t seen her – Gramma – in a week because I’ve been out every night past her bedtime, and only see her when she’s sitting at the breakfast table in the morning and I’m waddling past on my way to the shower.

My diet’s fucked. My last four dinners: Taco Hell, Pizza Slut, 10 PM breakfast at Shari’s, and last night? We had Applebee’s. (Srsly. Crap-o-rama.) I’m totally not counting the calories from the vodka, because that’s just depressing.

Work has been brutally slow this week. I’ve had hour-long lulls between calls and my file cabinet is already perfectly organized so I have nothing to do. Today I upgraded the ‘box to the latest version of WordPress; it’s not a difficult task but it is tedious and time-consuming (the automatic update plugin won’t run for me without errors, so I have to do it manually) and if that doesn’t prove how slow work is, the following utterly random and dull list will:

  • I want a car.
  • I want a bicycle.
  • My grandmother is still overfeeding my dog.
  • I am lovin’ the dry 95-degree weather we’re having.
  • I really enjoyed my bro’s Coachella post.
  • He wants me to help him with a shopping cart so he can start selling cool screened stuff.
  • VUBOQ has started a sideblog in which he pretends he’s str8.
  • K has started blogging. Like, today.
  • I spent about 10 hours at best of craigslist this week.
  • I need to color my hair.
  • I need to do about 3 loads of laundry.
  • I ran a box fan in my room last night because it’s so warm.

Um. Yeah.

Perhaps the sleep dep’s making me stupid? (Don’t answer that!) But even if it is, I still love you, my babies! *smooch*

Fat and sodium and calories, oh my.

In which I look at my data.

One of the interesting things about using software to count calories is that it does all sorts of interesting math. Behold, my intake from last week:

sodium

Of course there are many other things to track, like sugar and iron and fiber and so on, but it is interesting to note I’m always under what (they think) I should have for protein and over on sodium. I mean, WAY over on sodium, holy shit way over.

I don’t worry about the protein. From what I understand, your body has to make it out of amino acids anyway regardless of what you eat, and I get tons of those grazing on fresh veggies the way I do, not to mention that overconsumption of protein has been linked with ass cancer. So. Moving on.

The sodium intake is interesting, though. It’s freaking EVERYWHERE, all processed foods are packed with it, and if you’ve ever read the label on a can of tomatoes (or tomato juice) it’s just shy of astonishing.

All those high-fat days are ones where I ate something nuked. (I work a full-time job, so I eat a lot of TV dinner-type crap.)

Anyway, long story short: being an American and eating well are pretty much mutually exclusive. Even if you try to do it, odds are you’ll fail. Isn’t it fun living in a rich country?

Note: While my fat intake is probably high, it’s not as high as it looks. This is because when I enter things into the software, I often approximate: I might have had homemade potato soup, but I choose a commercially-prepared item which generally has more fat since most of it isn’t actually vegetarian.

ET phone home! And buy me some clothes!

In which there are both aliens and my ass in the same entry, but I totally wasn’t abducted or anything.

SETI@home sent me a lovely email today reminding me that I’ve been a member since 1999 (!!!)… and that I haven’t returned a work unit in 153 days. The last unit I returned was from my work machine, but my employer made me remove BOINC about a week after I installed it – the bastards – and I just never got around to installing it on my laptop.

Until now! Let the data crunching begin!

New topic. Ready for the segue? Too bad, ’cause there isn’t one! Dieting is, in its fifth week, suddenly getting difficult. My caloric intake has been inching up steadily for the past week, and now I’m closer to 1500 calories – on a typical day – than 1200. I’ve just been hungry lately. (It’s probably the damned curse messing with my hormones.) I seem to have my hideous water retention problem under control though; restricting calories and exercising (well, a little) has the unintended benefit of reducing my overall sodium intake and keeping me from bloating up like a waterlogged corpse.

After losing 8 pounds right off the bat my weight has remained the same for the past two weekly weigh-ins, but I’m still losing inches: there’s just no reason for someone of my height to be walking around with 40″ hips, just none at all, and I’m safely back into the 30’s now and boy does my ass look better. Yay! (Note: If you know me IRL and tell me I don’t need to lose any weight, I’ll smack you, swear to God, right in your face.) (I mean, the whole weight-loss process and the necessity of it just irritates me, but one does what one must.) Long story short, both my dog and myself should be utterly svelte by late summer.

Speaking of summer (ta-dah! a segue!), I’ve got gigs coming up all over the place. (RB is a gig-booking fiend, especially considering that the band he’s booking has never done a show before and is therefore entirely imaginary thus far.) What I don’t have is gig clothes. I have got to go shopping, but I keep giving my money to dentists and veterinarians instead. Maybe I’ll get Becca to use some of her second-hand store fu to help me find a few cool pieces of clothing, before I start showing up to paying gigs in my fucking pajamas. Or maybe I can just get a t-shirt with an alien on it, and wear it to every single gig we ever do, and become known as “that singer with the one alien shirt she always wears.” A gimmick’s a gimmick, right?

Go, me. Yay. No, srsly.

In which I’m so fucking healthy you would not even believe it.

I woke up before my alarm went off this morning. I did isometric exercises on the floor in my room. I took a shower. I made breakfast and ate it. I walked briskly to work. When I stopped for an iced latte, I even got soy milk. (Don’t worry, even though I’m a vegetarian I don’t eat enough soy for it to be dangerous. I have enough problems with my hormones as it is without introducing a bunch of phytoestrogens or a thyroid dysfunction into the mix!)

Last night at open mic, I did not order cheese fries. (I did have a few cocktails, though.) (I’m developing self-discipline, not spending a year dead for tax purposes.) Mmm, cheese fries!

I have no idea where all this motivation has come from, but I’m willing to admit that it might just be plain old vanity. I’ve noticed a trend that will, if left unchecked, have me waking up one morning shaped like a goddamned chicken (read: ball-shaped object on sticks) and I’m simply not into it. I’ve never really had a waist to speak of, but enough is enough.

In other news, RB is booking all sorts of gigs. Here’s what’s cookin’ so far:

(The boys’ gig calendar is here. I’m not necessarily doing all of the gigs listed.)

RB told me last night that he’s decided to bill me as ‘The New Queen of Blue-eyed Soul,’ which totally cracks me up. One rarely thinks of marketing oneself in such a way, but I suppose it’s just that sort of tagline that gets a girl gigs. And I like gigs. Now, if only the band members weren’t spread out all over two states it might be easier to actually practice together once in awhile.