Things My Body Taught Me -- It's Ok

Things I have learned to accept celebrate about inhabiting my body in my nearly 50 years on this planet:

1. My weight will fluctuate 20 to 30 pounds over the course of a year, and that's ok.
2. I will always want french fries, preferably from McDonalds, and that's ok.
3. I will never condition myself out of my love of fast food, and that's ok.
4. In the realm of choices about eating, I will sometimes make bad choices, and that's ok.
5. I will sometimes make bad choices for days or even weeks at a time, and that's ok.
6. There are some foods that I cannot eat a reasonable portion of, and that's ok.
7. Sometimes I will buy one of those foods and eat it all, and that's ok.
8. A lot of the time, I will not buy those foods.
9. A lot of the time, I will make good choices on my own without feeling like I'm being punished.
10. A lot of the time, I will authentically enjoy a bowl of plain Greek yogurt with honey as much as a bowl of Sam's Choice Peanut Butter and Chocolate ice cream.
11. Every single time, I will emerge from a period of bad choices that I have thoroughly enjoyed, on my own and in my own time, and go back to eating clean and exercising regularly. 

Every. single. time. 

Somehow, and I don't know how it happened, I'm done beating myself up over every indulgence, promising to do better next time when I know I won't if I don't feel like it. I'm done worrying about what the scale says and paying more attention to what my body is telling me instead. It feels amazing to know that, even wrist deep in a half-gallon of gelato, eventually, tomorrow or next week, I'll be craving healthy alternatives and heading to the gym with enthusiasm. 

To break the chain and feel the weight of the years and years of guilt and anxiety about food lifting off me, knowing that I can trust myself -- that's more than ok. That's freedom.

And just for fun, here's picture from one of my performances last month, in my newest costume, rockin' the peacock-mermaid look:

This is what 222 pounds looks like...

What do you think of when you think of a 200-pound person? I can't answer that question for you, but I know what I think of. For most of my life, I didn't associate that number with beauty or health. The 200-pound mark has always been a psychological rubicon for me -- once crossed, and I crossed this particular milestone many, many years ago -- it represented a number that must be conquered, subdued. Beaten down, or beaten back. Annihilated.

Staying above that mark represented shame, and failure, and somehow being less of a full participant in life. Until, one day, it didn't anymore.

Sure, some might argue that acceptance means giving in. Knuckling under. Being lazy. Quitting. But somehow, in my journey to accept myself, I've truly come to see that the number doesn't mean anything.

I weighed myself yesterday. I'm going to break one of the last social taboos and tell the world what the scale said:

222 pounds

And this is what I looked like walking out the door yesterday:

Excuse the mess.
Dress: London Times Elbow Sleeve Side Drape Side Sheath Dress
Shoes: Payless Comfort Plus Janine Pointy-Toed Pump

I'm sure some of you still think that that picture represents someone who is unattractively large. Someone who should be embarrassed or ashamed. Someone who should be trying harder, being better, who shouldn't be happy about what she sees. And that's ok. But I can look at that picture and feel nothing but happy about the person smiling out of that picture.

The number is just a number. It doesn't mean anything real. My health is excellent. My blood pressure is lower than normal. My cholesterol is in the normal range. I exercise most days. I do pilates and teach dance and go to Zumba when I can fit a class into my schedule. I passed a stress test last year with flying colors. I feel healthy.

My ideal weight, according to all the charts, is 170 pounds, and that's at the high end of the range. To get to my "ideal weight," the person in that picture would have to lose more than 50 pounds. I wouldn't recognize her. (Also, none of my costumes would fit her.) I'm sure she would be a lovely person, but I think she's lovely now, inside and out. 

I know that sounds conceited. But I'm just being honest, and those of you who struggle with body image and self-acceptance, no matter your size or weight, know how hard it is to genuinely feel happy about the image in the mirror. Here's hoping we can all get there, and here's hoping I can stay there.

I'm really scared to post this publicly. But I have to keep reminding myself, people knowing my weight doesn't change anything. They see me every day. Putting a number on what they see might change how they see me, but it shouldn't. This is what 222 pounds looks like -- on me. It looks different on everyone. But the number itself is meaningless.  #itsjustanumber 

I'm Baaaaaaaaaack. Again. No, really, for real this time...

Well, this is awkward.

The big I’M BACK announcement, and then nothing. For – holy crap, has it been that long?!?! – almost two years. Wow, Fat Dancer, that’s pretty lame.

Well, I was struggling with some stuff related to body image and body positivity that I’ll write about later. I got super burnt out with a lot of things, including dance. And I had a sabbatical where I sat on my ass and gained a ton of weight. Enough weight that I could feel it having an impact on my health.

So I’m here to tell you, in case you weren't already convinced: sitting in one place for most of your waking hours is really bad for you. It’s bad for your heart, it’s bad for your back, and it’s bad for your emotional health.

I mean, nothing terrible happened. I didn't develop a debilitating diet-related disease or have a heart attack or anything. But I've always been 95-100% healthy, so when I started feeling a lot of pressure in my head, especially after eating salty foods, I knew blood pressure might be an issue. My blood pressure has always been around 110/70 so when I went to the local pharmacy to try out their blood pressure measuring machine and it read 135/90, I freaked out.  Went right to the doctor. Where I got properly tested and it turns out things weren't quite so dire but I was on the very edge of pre-hypertension. No medication, but my body was definitely telling me a change was needed.

Also seeing performance pictures from that spring made an impression: 

Looking at this now, I don't HATE it, but this is, as I have said before, not how I see myself in my head.

So on April 1, 2014, I made a commitment to just start tracking what I ate, promising myself no judgment and no negativity. I just wanted to get a nutritional baseline. I also started exercising (teaching two beginner dance classes a week wasn't cutting it). I’ll write more in future posts about the strategies I used (and continue to use), and the online/app tools that helped me on the way, but I’m happy to say that by Halloween I had lost almost 30 pounds. 

There's a little bit of an optical illusion going on here with my left arm, but I'll take it...

Also, my blood pressure is back to normal and my doctor has no concerns about my health once again.

But here’s my struggle, especially with this blog: how to reconcile body positivity, about which I feel passionately, with my personal unhappiness with the way I looked. Sure, I didn't feel great either, and that was at least 65% of the motivation to make some changes, but I can’t say it was only about health. I could not look at pictures of myself at that weight and be happy about it. Despite the fact that I have watched dancers of similar sizes raq it out beautifully. Sincerely. Not “beautifully for a woman her size”, but beautifully. Full. Stop.

But not me. So not only was I unhappy about what I was seeing in the mirror, I was hugely guilty about failing to be body positive by loving the way I looked.

So I spent the last year thinking a lot about that conflict, because I really want to keep writing about dance, body image, loving yourself at any size and all that jazz. I've come to some conclusions, which, you guessed it, will provide the fuel for future posts.

But for right now, I just want to say, once again: I’m baaaack! And this time, I hope I’m here to stay.

I'm baaAAaack....

Well, hey there! Yes, I disappeared from blogland for awhile (a semester, in fact), and while I could claim that it was being busy and especially having an 8 am class last semester that caused my absence, there were some other things going on as well. That's not to say that I wasn't busy, but really, these days everyone is busy so that's not really an excuse.

I'm still fat. Thought I'd get that out there. That's probably the biggest reason I have not been drawn back to blogging -- I made a public commitment to doing something, and then I didn't do it. I did give it a good run, though. I made it two months. I lost exactly 9 pounds. I know that shouldn't be discouraging, that slow weight loss is the most sustainable, that if I had just hung in there I would have gotten past the plateau... I know all those things intellectually, but at the time I felt like I was making a huge and painful sacrifice for very little result. So I just went back to my normal eating.

Of course I'm back to where I started now, weight-wise, and most of my clothes are getting tight. But there was an upside to the whole experiment, because I wasn't just struggling with the "diet" part -- I was also struggling with my whole motivation for trying to lose weight in the first place. I felt, and still feel, conflicted about wanting to be more body positive AND at the same time wanting to be thinner. All these issues had bubbled to the surface, just by writing this blog, and I hadn't really taken the time to process them. So the time off has been beneficial in some ways, because I feel more at peace about a lot of things.

For one thing, I feel better about my body as it is right now. I can look in the mirror and see things I like. I still have an hourglass figure (even if the bottom part has spread out a bit) that I appreciate and know I wouldn't have if I never got off the couch. Continuing to teach, take classes and perform plays a big role in that, I know, so I am also grateful to my own self for getting off the couch and going to class and hanging in there and not breaking.

I've come to terms with costuming and, to a certain extent, clothing my body as it is now. There are some things that just will not be flattering on me, and there's no reason to keep them around. There are other things that make me look FABulous, and I'm hanging on to those. I still have a hard time seeing something on the rack or in a picture and really being able to imagine it on me, so I have to be ruthless about trying things on (and returning them when necessary). Looking in the mirror is getting easier, so trying things on isn't as bad as it used to be.

Candid pictures are still hard for me to look at, but I know that it's possible to get a good picture of myself, so I just try not to think about the "bad" pictures too much. I know they are one element of the reality of how I look, but they're not the only element.

Pictures taken April 20, 2013...

...right after winning second place in a competition

Still, as I said, my clothes are getting tight. I don't want to buy new clothes, and I'd like to have more choices for clothes (and costumes) than I will have if I keep getting bigger. So while I still feel really strongly about finding ways to appreciate the way I look now, and fight against my tendency to be hypercritical, I also need to put the brakes on gaining any more weight.

So, I'm taking some steps to do just that, not necessarily to lose weight, but to kind of "reset" nutritionally and pull back a bit. One of my best friends from high school has had a lot of success -- not just with weight loss but with general health and well being -- with Advocare products, so I'm giving that a shot, starting tomorrow.

I'll probably be posting pictures of my "progress" at some point, but I really don't want (and have never really wanted) this to turn into a weight loss blog. That's not what The Fat Dancer is about, even though sometimes I felt like that was the direction I was pushing it, which made me anxious and uncomfortable. This is a blog about body positivity at any size and belly dance at any size and finding something you love and pursuing it wholeheartedly at any size, even if it means getting up in front of people and putting yourself on display.

I'd love to hear from you guys about your challenges and triumphs with weight and body image (and dance). I'm not a therapist, so I won't be offering advice, but sometimes it's nice to know you're more than just a voice crying out in the wilderness :)

One Month Progress Report: I'll Take It

So yesterday, Dec. 31, was the one-month mark of my 13-month odyssey to the land of no carbs. While this experiment isn't about weight loss so much as getting a handle on my tendency to overload on dietary sugars, I'm not too proud to admit I hope to lose some weight as well. So I'm pleased to report that I've lost 8 pounds so far. That works out to about .25 pounds per day. At first, .25 pounds per day doesn't sound like that much, but if I lost .25 pounds per day for the next 365 days, I'd lose 90 more pounds. I don't have 90 pounds to lose, and I'm also not naive enough to believe that I won't eventually run into a plateau or even a brick wall; but even if I lost half that amount in the coming year, I'd be smaller than I've been since high school. That would be interesting, to say the least.

In other news, I've been trying to practice body appreciation instead of body hatred over the last month, and I've been surprised at how quickly some of my perceptions have been changing. It's not that I see myself differently, per se, but my internal dialogue is a little different. If I catch sight of myself in a mirror, or see a picture of myself, I still experience that shock that comes from seeing what I really look like, versus what I think I look like. But instead of feeling despair, I more often have felt acceptance. I'm more likely to think, "Well, that's what I look like, and that's ok. If I want to change how I look, then I should, but for now, it is what it is." That's progress, for me.

As for my commitment to eating no carbs, I'd say I've been about 85% this month. I've already written about the trouble with family meals, which continued on Christmas day when I was confronted with a meal in which absolutely nothing, except the roast, was LGL. So I ate, but I took small portions of everything and didn't go back for seconds. I did, however, have dessert. And my body freaked right out. So lesson learned there. If I don't eat sugars that immediately impact my blood sugar, I don't experience racing heart rate and palpitations. Seems pretty easy to figure that out.

I'm also getting much more sensitive to sweetness. I was at a meeting before the holidays where lunch was served (it was supposed to be ham, but turned out to be lasagna; I ate about half). I figured since I had already violated my "diet", I might as well have a cookie. I took one bite and almost passed out -- WAY too sweet. I also had a bite of coconut shrimp the other day at Ruby Tuesday -- it tasted like a doughnut. The only sweets I have been eating (other than these deviations) have been Cutie oranges, very dark chocolate, and the occasional CarbMaster yogurt. It's amazing, to me, how quickly things can change.

This is about as sweet as I can take right now.

So one month down, 12 more to go. So far, so good. And I promise, I'll have more posts about dance coming soon!

Happy New Year, and all best wishes for you for 2013!

Bellyfat and Bellydance -- Part I

In America, we don't see a lot of bellies in a positive context. Oh sure, we see lots of stomachs -- toned and taut six packs being used to market diet drinks, gym memberships and sex in the form of Victoria's Secret lingerie. But most of the time, when we're confronted with bellies, we are supposed to either laugh at them (e.g. peopleofwalmart.com) or be appalled/ashamed about them -- like that animated ad that appeared in the sidebar of practically every website I visited for at least a year that showed a fat belly shrinking down to a skinny stomach, over and over and over.

There have been some attempts to change this, most notably the Dove Real Body Campaign, but even then, in their most famous image, those stomachs are pretty flat. I don't see any bellies hanging over the top of those briefs:

Maybe they're all sucking in really hard.

But the bellydance world is full of bellies. That's not to say that there aren't some very toned stomachs (quite a few, indeed), but there are an equal number of gushy, jiggly, wobbly bellies. And -- here's the key -- in bellydance, those bellies are presented on the same stages, in the same contexts, at (usually) the same level of celebration and admiration as the more culturally celebrated flat stomachs. 

That's awesome. Many women find it transformative. I know that I often see my own students, after a few classes, pulling their shirts up to expose their bellies -- partly because they want to see what's happening down there, but also, at least in part, because they see me doing it and see that the world didn't end when a woman showed her jiggly belly without apologizing for it. In class and in performance, we bellydancers just get accustomed to see bellies and stomachs of all sizes and within a pretty short period of time, it's often not an issue anymore.

It's unfortunate, then, that the public image of bellydance doesn't seem to incorporate the body positivity that actually exists in most of the bellydance world. I say "most" -- you don't see a lot of pudgy restaurant dancers and I know that there are troupe/company directors who require their dancers to conform to the culturally accepted standards of beauty. This is directly related to the public image of bellydance -- if you are trying to sell a product, you want to give the customer what they (think they) want. I totally get this, and I'm not judging (much). 

But there is great power in simply putting bellies back in the public consciousness in positive contexts. I was at a show recently where I was blown away by a dancer from out of state whom I had never seen before. She was a petite little thing with long dark hair and dark eyes -- the very image of what the general public believes a bellydancer is -- but she also had a very juicy belly. And she took advantage of it. When she shimmied, I couldn't take my eyes off her belly -- it had a life of its own. Much of her movement accentuated the additional motion of her belly reverberations. I wish I had written her name down, and I don't have the program anymore, but watching her dance was, in many ways, a revelation. Getting more bellydancers with bellies out there in front of the general public (instead of just out there in front of ourselves -- because we all know that the majority of the audience at most bellydance shows are other dancers) might be similarly transformative.

I'm going to a workshop with Mardi Love today as a birthday gift to myself. I've been covering my stomach in class and rehearsal lately because I've gained so much weight this fall, but today I'm going to put it out there. It is what it is, and what it is might just be ok.

But at the same time, I do wonder whether some styles of bellydance are better suited to stomachs than bellies... Stay tuned for Part II.

PS: Today marks the first week of my year-long experiment. Eating-wise I have been very disciplined (which isn't unusual at the beginning of a change). Weight-wise... well, I didn't gain (in fact, I lost a little) and that's what I have to keep reminding myself of -- the whole point of this experiment is, at one level, to just stop gaining and to get my carb addiction under control. So: Week 1 = Mission Accomplished.

The First Step...

… is admitting you have a problem.

So hi guys. I know it’s gone silent around here. Dead air. It’s not that I haven’t had things to say, but for awhile there it was hard to figure out which of the many voices fighting for attention was going to get the floor. This is The Fat Dancer, but should I focus on the Fat part or the Dancer part? Or both? And how?

There was some other stuff going on, too; just life stuff but pretty distracting and also a general time suck, and blogging had to take a back seat for awhile.

And then there’s the happy, happy fact that I’ve managed to gain 15 pounds since I started blogging. In 10 weeks. Quite an accomplishment, if I do say so myself.

I’ve been thinking a lot about body positivity during the hiatus, and I’ll have much more to say on that in the days to come, but in the meantime, my clothes don’t fit. And as much as I’d like to come to terms with, and even learn to love, how I look at this weight, I am not at a place where I can own that. I don’t like feeling squeezed into everything except yoga pants, and I don’t like what I see in the mirror.

Even more than the weight, though, is how I’ve been feeling, which is basically yucky. I’ve been sick more this semester than I can ever remember being. My stress levels are up again, I’m tired, and maybe even a little depressed. Which is ironic given that I justify my carb-eating extravaganzas by telling myself that carbs are what make me happy. Gotta love irony.

I’m also tired of feeling all angsty about my struggle with weight and food (which lately has been less a struggle than a total surrender). I’ve talked before about my carb addiction, and I was half joking, but only half. Now it’s time for rehab. And we all know rehab doesn’t work without accountability.

So I came up with a solution that combines all of my non-day-job hobbies and habits -- dance, writing (in the form of blogging), cooking and body/weight/diet issues – and public accountability. Starting Dec. 1 (which was yesterday, I know, but I’ve been stuck in avoidance mode – so shoot me), and for the next 13 months, I am committing myself to changing my approach to food, and dealing with my carb addiction. With the support of my family (even my cauliflower-hating daughter who knows what she’s in for), I will be switching from the “eat whatever you want” diet (which I have clearly demonstrated is enormously successful at putting on about 1.5 pounds per week) to a low glycemic load diet, which essentially means no bread, pasta, rice, potatoes or white sugar.

I have no illusions that the next 13 months will be easy; nor do I have any expectation that this transition will occur without its occasional slip-ups and mistakes. But I will use this space, at least in part, to blog about my journey.

This does not mean that I am turning this blog into a diet or weight-loss blog. It’s still going to focus on body image, dance, and other related issues. The focus of my experiment is not really weight loss, even though I do expect to lose some weight. But I will not be tracking daily progress or pounds lost per week here. I will be focusing on the fact that I’m doing what I’m doing out of love for myself and as part of honoring the body that works so hard for me. I will NOT be doing this from a place of body hatred – I know that has to change for me to change anything at all.

That doesn’t mean I won’t talk about weight loss if it happens, but that’s not the point. The point, for me, is a) making a transformation that I believe will ultimately have a positive impact on many aspects of my life and b) sticking to something for a year, even when it gets hard.

And when it does get hard, I’ll just tell myself I can wait until Jan. 1, 2014, and then I can eat as much mashed potatoes and pasta as I want. I have some faith that on that day, I won’t want as much as I think I do, and that I will have learned to honor my body enough to not overdo it too much.

In addition to this blog, I’ve started two boards on Pinterest – one on low glycemic load recipes (The Fat Dancer’s Dinner), and one on body image (The Fat Dancer). I’ve got a new logo that should help tie everything together as well. Feel free to follow them as well as this blog.

That leaves only one thing left to do. In the tradition of all rehab programs everywhere, the first step toward recovery is admitting you have a problem.

My name is Lara, and I have a problem with food. But I’m going to do something about it. Join me on my journey.

It's All in My Head

So, yeah -- I kinda disappeared there for awhile. Much craziness around here, and I've been using my blogging time to do work that should have gotten done when the craziness was happening. I've also had another mental mini-rebellion against thinking about changing my eating habits. I have to wonder -- is this rebellion a just and honest rebellion against the forces in our world that make me feel unnecessarily crappy about myself, or is it a sneaky and underhanded way for the carb-addicted pleasure center in my brain to keep getting everything it wants? I can't figure out the source yet, but I can tell you this -- under the stress of the last couple of weeks, I perceived thinking about changing how I eat as additionally stressful. So I stopped thinking about it.

BUT I have noticed that even without thinking about it consciously, some of that work I was doing has paid off. I am now the last one to finish eating, when I used to be first. I get full faster. I haven't really lost any weight, but I haven't gained any either, which is a victory of its own, I suppose. So now that things are calming down (maybe), I can imagine at least the possibility that I might get back to changing a few more habits in the near future.

In the meantime, though, I've jumped right to Step 4: Stop Sitting. Because I'm now teaching five dance classes a week. I've got eight lovely, wonderful and hard-working new student dancers in our troupe, and we rehearse twice a week; I also started a new job at a cool new studio in town, so I'm teaching three fitness classes there (2 ATS-based and 1 Egyptian-style basics classes). What I've noticed, which is sort of validating, is that even the skinny girls, and even my dance sister who is crazy strong and in Iron-Woman shape, get sweaty, out of breath, and tired -- sometimes even before I do. And I think that that, all by itself, might change a few people's perceptions about what it means (and doesn't mean) when someone is fat. I'm good with that.

Feeling like a dancer again is also really good. Spending all that time in front of the mirror has given me the confidence to agree to perform an entirely new solo for a festival show this weekend, which basically means I have three days to put it together, but I'm not even worried.

So what's the point of all this rambling, anyway? Well, mainly that, whatever is going on in our lives, 90% of the game is mental. And sometimes our brains work against us, which doesn't really seem fair, but it's a fact that seems to have been pretty firmly established by psychologists. We can't always trust our perceptions; sometimes our subconscious helps us rationalize decisions that consciously we didn't want to, or know we shouldn't, make; and a lot of stress in our lives comes from inside our very own heads, not from outside sources.

This was brought home to me yesterday, when I was yet again considering faking some kind of serious illness that would require hospitalization (which would mean *maybe* people would stop complaining, bitching and generally making life miserable for everyone around them, or at least keep it to themselves for awhile). It was so bad that I actually had to close my office door and cry for a little while -- it was that or throw up. Later that afternoon, a colleague who had heard a little bit about what was going on texted me and said, "Hey, it's not your fault." At least I thought that's what he said when I first read the text, and I felt all validated, because that's what *I* was saying to myself. But then I read it again, later when things had calmed down a little, and what he was actually saying was: "Hey, knock it off. You are not responsible for the outcome of a process that involves almost 20 people. You can't control it, so get over yourself." He didn't use those exact words, but that was what he meant.

And that's when I realized (again): Wow, everyone else sees the world really differently than I do. My perceptions about myself and my role in the world cannot be trusted. And I can't control it. So I should stop worrying about it and just get on with life. And that's kind of a huge relief.

I ran across this image the other day; I think it's pretty apropos as a mantra for this week.

I'm thinking maybe I should be working on these steps instead of my 5 S's, and focus on changing my mind first, before I try to change my body. Maybe I'll even decide my body doesn't need that much changing after all.

Updated: Body Gratitude

Hi everybody! I'm back from my weekend of dance extravaganzas and getting into the swing of a new teaching schedule -- whew! Blogging time was in short supply this weekend (and in Monday's aftermath), but never fear -- I'm still here! (I know you were worried.)

Last week I wrote a verging-on-pissy post about body image and linked to Amy Poehler's video about learning to show gratitude to your body, but this weekend, as I was dancing my little heart out, I had a moment of real gratitude for what my body can do.

Way back in early August I taught a workshop for a bunch of really wonderful ladies, and that was pretty much the last time I really danced. Our troupe took a vacation from rehearsals, and I kept putting off my own practice in favor of getting ready for the start of a new school year, and any other excuse I could find. So Saturday morning, as I prepared for six hours of dance class, I was a little worried. But my body hung in there and took everything I threw at it, even when I did some things that I know I shouldn't do (like slide my hips horizontally over a weighted leg while my rib cage is sliding the opposite direction over the unweighted leg, which will put my back out faster than ... I don't know, something that's really fast -- so sue me, my brain checked out sometime Sunday afternoon and it hasn't come back yet).

In fact, speaking of brain check-out, Sunday morning I trotted back for another six hours of dancing, and at about hour 2, my brain-body connection broke. It wasn't that my body stopped working -- it's that my brain shorted out and refused to recall any of the combinations we had been working on. I couldn't remember what was coming next anymore, and when I get behind on weight changes and turns, that's when I get hurt. I had to stop, as much as I didn't want to, because my brain quit on me -- but my body never quit.

Credit: Lawrence Yang

I've been in a bit of a brain fog since then, but my body is still hanging in there. I've taught two classes since then, and it's still going strong. I'm not injured and I'm not even that sore. Actually, it feels like my body is thanking me for moving again. I want to remember this feeling, because I always think that my body is thanking me for sitting on the couch and not bothering it. Turns out, I really do want to move (or at least my body does. I think it's Carolena Nericcio who talks about how our brains really don't want to move, because, evolutionarily speaking, it's safer, from the brain's perspective, to stay still).

So thanks, body, for hanging in there, for supporting me as I move, for keeping me balanced, for engaging the right muscles at the right time, for releasing what needs to be released and for finding a way to keep going even when I'm tired. You're awesome!

Progress report:

There is no progress to report, but that's ok.

UPDATE: Apparently my brain did not like me talking smack about it, and so it smote me with a migraine. Watch out, brain -- you used to be my favorite, but I'm starting to think maybe body has more going for it...

Meditation for a Friday

Today is my last day of rest before I dive into my new schedule of teaching dance classes three times a week and leading troupe rehearsal twice a week. This weekend, I kick off my return to a crazy dance schedule by attending two intensive workshops -- one with Aziza of Montreal and one with Sera Solstice. I don't know which one I am more excited about!  Also, I will get to see some of my friends perform tomorrow night at the show -- go, girls!

I've been feeling conflicted about my messaging here -- is it simply about developing a positive body image or is it about changing my body so I can feel better about it? I saw this yesterday and it clarified a lot for me:

So the answer is both, and I'll try to keep that in mind as I'm sweating my ass off (and praying my knees don't decide to go sideways when I'm not expecting it).

Have an awesome weekend!

Progress report:
Combo 1, step 1: eating with empty hands -- 95%

Wanted: A New Perspective

It's been a rough couple of days for me --  not only have I been losing some of the ground I had gained on changing some of my unhelpful eating habits, but I have also gained back all the weight I lost since embarking on this project, plus half a pound.

Sigh.

And then I saw these pictures, from a recent picnic:

Yeah, let's take a closer look at that:

This takes me right back to my very first post -- this is NOT how I think I look. I am surprised and dismayed every time I am confronted with pictures of myself. I feel an intense self-loathing, which I don't normally walk around with, when I see myself through the camera's eye. Sometimes my daughter borrows my phone to take pictures of herself, and she leaves the camera on the setting where the it looks towards the user instead of outward. Then I come along and want to take a picture, and the first thing I see is myself on that screen and it always makes me jump like it's Halloween at the haunted house -- "Oh my God, what the hell is that!?!?!"

So this video from Amy Poehler showed up in my Facebook news feed this morning at exactly the right time, and even though I've heard the message before -- and I'm pretty sure you have, too -- it bears repeating:

So, here's my attempt at gratitude toward my body:

1. I have good fingernails. Seriously, even my manicurist envies them. 
2. I have good feet. They are big, but somehow don't look like boats.
3. I have pretty good hair, although I wish it would stop falling out.
4. I don't throw up a lot. I'm really grateful for that because there is nothing I hate more.
5. I don't have to shave very often. Guess I don't have much testosterone.
6. I have good skin, and I don't have to do anything special or expensive to maintain it.
7. ...

That's pretty much all I could come up with this morning. I couldn't think of a single thing between my neck and my ankles to put on the list. But that's probably because I'm very grumpy about all this stuff today. 

I'm so tired of feeling this way. I need to find a way to change my thinking about myself as well as my eating. I'm going to work on a plan, and as soon as I have one, I'll let you all know. Of course, one solution is to remove all mirrors from my house and never look at pictures of myself. Denial, as they say, is not just a river in Egypt.

But seriously, I think Amy is on to something here, and I've heard it in different words from lots of different sources: would you talk to your daughter the way you talk to yourself when it comes to her body and her beauty? Would you let someone else talk to you the way you talk to yourself when it comes to your body and your beauty? Why do so many of us have this constant negative, mean and downright hateful soundtrack running in our heads all day? 

There's a balance here, of course. When I look at pictures of myself, I don't want to feel self-hatred, but I also want to take the reality check seriously. I have to face the facts that the camera is showing me, and change what I can change if I don't like what it shows me. This is not about giving up, but about finding a way to stay focused on the positive rather than the negative when it comes to weight and body image. And I really, really need that change in perspective.

In the meantime, I'm going all the way back to the beginning with my steps. I added too many too soon, I think. So now, I'm only focusing on eating with empty hands until I can do it 100% for several days in a row.

Progress report:
Combo 1, step 1: eating with empty hands -- 80%

Wow...

So my last post seemed to resonate with a lot of people, at least based on traffic to my little blog. Thanks for sharing it around, guys! :)

Yesterday was definitely a happy dance day. We had a successful audition and have eight new student members (one of whom, I swear to God, looks exactly like Sharon Kihara) and I finally got to dance again. I have been super busy doing dance stuff (scheduling classes, planning auditions, working with a new studio owner) but haven't actually been doing much dancing of late. That all changes next week, as I start a new three-a-week schedule, plus I'm going to a super-awesome workshop this weekend that I know will leave me wiped out -- in a good way.

I'm thinking of asking the owner of the new studio I'm working with to post this somewhere:

I would also like to hang it from my rear-view mirror, post it above my bathroom mirror, and in my home studio in giant letters on the back wall.

Much love, everyone! Have a great Monday!

Progress report (gotta keep working):
Combo 1, step 1: eating with empty hands -- 75%
Combo 1, step 2: chewing completely -- 85%
Combo 1, step 3: small bites -- 50%

Slap the Apology from Your Posture...

This poem has been going around Facebook for a few weeks, along with the accompanying photo, but it speaks so clearly to me about the primal power of dance, and women's dances in particular, to be transformative -- for the audience AND the dancer.

Photo credit: Chad Faith

We have come to be danced

Not the pretty dance

Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance

But the claw our way back into the belly 

Of the sacred, sensual animal dance 

The unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance

The holding the precious moment in the palms

of our hands and feet dance.

We have come to be danced

Not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance

But the wring the sadness from our skin dance 

The blow the chip off our shoulder dance. 

The slap the apology from our posture dance. 

We have come to be danced

Not the monkey see, monkey do dance

One two dance like you 

One two three, dance like me dance 

But the grave robber, tomb stalker 

Tearing scabs and scars open dance 

The rub the rhythm raw against our soul dance. 

We have come to be danced

Not the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle

But the matted hair flying, voodoo mama shaman shaking ancient bones dance 

The strip us from our casings, return our wings 

sharpen our claws and tongues dance 

The shed dead cells and slip into the luminous skin of love dance. 

We have come to be danced

Not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow 

end of the floor dance but the meeting of the trinity: 

the body, breath and beat dance 

The shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance

The mother may I? Yes you may take ten giant leaps dance

The olly olly oxen free free free dance 

The everyone can come to our heaven dance. 

We have come to be danced

Where the kingdoms collide

In the cathedral of flesh

To burn back into the light 

To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray 

To root in skin sanctuary 

We have come to be danced! We have come.” 

~ by Jewel Mathieson

from her book "This Dance: A Poultice of Poems" (jewelmathieson.blogspot.com)

I am in love with the imagery in this piece -- the way the poem calls out all the energy, self-confidence, attitude, strength and self-knowledge that comes from dancing, if you let it, if you stop doing "the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle" and shout hallelujah from the top of your thighs instead.

We had a workshop for students interested in being involved with our student troupe yesterday and I watched these young women work very hard, concentrating on reconnecting with movement that no longer feels natural to them -- the way hips move up when you shift your weight, or back when you take a step. We in the West are so tight in our hips, so locked in, many of us have lost touch with the simple sway, curve and bounce that happens when we walk. The movement becomes tentative, and our posture along with it. Once we reconnect with that natural rhythm of the body in simply walking in time to music, we are already dancing. The rest is just window dressing. But it doesn't look like dance until you slap the apology from your posture, hold your head up and your shoulders back, and own the space you occupy with all the pride you can possibly muster.

At that point, the body becomes merely a vessel for the spirit that is you, shining through. And 15 or 30 or 60 or 100 "extra" pounds doesn't matter in the least.

Progress report:
Combo 1, step 1: eating with empty hands -- 75%
Combo 1, step 2: chewing completely -- 85%
Combo 1, step 3: small bites -- 85%

A Not-So-Painful Divorce

"I was so good today -- I didn't eat anything that wasn't on my plan." "I've been really bad this week -- I've had desert every night." Argh.

Let's divorce self-worth from eating habits. I am not bad if I eat "bad" food. Eating is eating. My self-worth and value to this world don't have anything to do with what I eat.

Don't get me wrong -- there is a lot to be said for acquiring self-discipline. Self-discipline is a true virtue. It is a worthy goal to work toward. And there's no question that self-discipline is required if you are, like me, trying to change unhealthy habits, whether they are related to eating or not. But give yourself a break, for God's sake. It takes a long time to change habits that you may have had for 20 or 30 years (or more).

Setting goals is also, generally speaking, a good thing. But if you don't reach a goal, does that make you BAD? Are you supposed to go sit in the corner because maybe an old habit kicked in before you had time to think? Are you less of a human being because you got sidetracked or did something else with your time?

This realization hit me the other day, as I was procrastinating once again but not feeling the slightest bit guilty about it. I have had a "goal," so to speak, to get my laundry done for about 10 days. I finally did it yesterday sort of by accident. Like, in between doing other stuff I figured, "hey, might as well throw that in too." But between the day I made the giant laundry pile 10 days ago and yesterday, every night when I went to bed I saw the big huge laundry pile. And never once did I say to myself, "God, I SUCK. I totally failed at getting that laundry done. I'm disgusting!" I felt perfectly fine about it, because I knew it would get done eventually.

Another example: I am a teacher, and I often have giant stacks of papers to grade. These take forever and I hate doing it. I always make a deal with myself that I will do so many a day for the next however many days, and that way it won't be too bad, blah blah blah. Never happens. I'm always down to the wire, the weekend before they're due back, spending hours at a time grading. When I am looking at that giant stack of papers on Friday afternoon, I might have slight regret that I didn't start earlier, but I don't for one second even consider starting in with a giant load of self-hatred. I do not connect my self-worth to the fact that I have a tendency to procrastinate.

A final example: when it is my turn to change the litter box, I often procrastinate (surprise, surprise). Every time I pass it, I think, "Yeah, I need to do that." But two or three days might go by. Do I beat myself up over the fact that I "failed" to change the litter box every time I pass it? No. Never. Now, the consequences of not changing it get increasingly unpleasant, which can also be the case with procrastinating on your habit-changing goals, but it gets done eventually.

So why is it that so many people, when they slip back into an old eating habit, or procrastinate getting started on building some new eating habits, pour self-loathing all over themselves like some kind of horrible oily bath of shame? I do it too, but I'm pretty sick of it and I'm not going to do it anymore.

Yes, there are negative consequences from not doing what you set out to do sometimes. If I didn't do laundry, I'd run out of underwear. If I don't grade the papers, I could lose my job. If I don't change the litter box, the cats are going to start finding new places to poop and... ew. There are also negative consequences from bad eating habits, or any other bad habits. But causes and consequences are just that -- issues related to logic, not emotion. And besides, telling yourself how horrible you are because you failed to meet a goal isn't actually helping you once the time for meeting that goal has passed. It's already gone. All you can do is figure out another way to get there, or pick yourself up and try again.

People need to eat. Sometimes they eat food that nourishes their bodies. Sometimes they eat food that makes their brain chemistry do a happy dance. Sometimes they eat more than they need. Sometimes they forget to eat. None of that -- none of it -- has anything to do with whether that person is kind, generous, thoughtful, pleasant, a good friend, a good worker, or anything else that makes us valuable as human beings.

It's Friday -- go be awesome!

Progress report:
Combo 1, step 1: eating with empty hands -- 95%
Combo 1, step 2: chewing completely -- 100%

Getting closer to my goal!

You Can't Wait Until...

Let's turn attention to the relationship between body image and living life for a moment. Obviously, the process I'm undergoing to bring my awesome "inner" me more in line with my maybe-not-quite-as-awesome "outer" me is going to take a long time. Realistically, changing your body -- whatever that means for you -- takes a long time. It takes a long time to get strong(er). It takes a long time to get fit(ter). Even if you get there, it takes some brain re-training to stay there. Under normal circumstances, it takes a long time to change habits and change your life.

You can't wait until things are exactly the way you want them to start living. As I think we've established, by any objective measure I am fat. Most people (in the US, at least) think of bellydancers as ... well, not fat. There are a variety of reasons for this, not all of them necessarily positive for the art of raqs sharqui, but that's a topic for another day. It's not like I started out dancing and then got fat -- I was fat when I started. But it was something I wanted to do, so I did it. And I loved it. And I wasn't that good at the beginning, because let's face it -- dance (any dance) is not as easy as it looks and being good at it requires practice and investment in education. But because I loved it, I got better. I got stronger. I was still fat, but by God I started to get muscle definition that made the fat look different. And after awhile, it just didn't seem to matter that I wasn't the typical body shape for a dancer. I'm no Ranya Renee, and I'll never be Rachel Brice, but that's ok. I kept at it, kept performing, kept studying, kept practicing and earlier this year, I won a competition. It was a small local competition with a field of about eight dancers, but the second place winner is a professional dancer and both the second- and third-place winners are less than half my size. That was sort of validating, to say the least. I've entered another competition that's coming up in about six months, and if I don't win, that's ok -- just participating is another step in my growth doing something I really love.

You may have different loves. But don't wait until things are perfect, or until you are perfect, to start them. That day will never come. Just jump in. You're not going to be the best at something right away, no matter what. That can't be your standard. Just go for the best you can be at that moment.

So since I've started this blog, I've lost 1.5 pounds, just by eating more slowly and intentionally. I might be a big, giant tortoise, but maybe I'll still get there in the end.

Photo: Tim Laman/National Geographic

Progress report:
Combo 1, step 1: eating with empty hands -- 75%

So, yeah... This is my blog

Hi. About two weeks ago, I had the most unoriginal idea for a blog ever. "I know," I thought to myself, "I will write an awesome blog about dieting, where I will track my progress, and work my steps just like a heroin junkie (more on that later), and be really real about losing weight, and it will really WORK this time." In those two weeks, I gained 6 pounds.

I also realized that I am tired of dieting. Like, not bored with it, or cranky about it (well, maybe a little cranky), but just bone, dead, exhausted. I haven't tried every diet out there, but I've done a lot of them. I've done Atkins -- four or five times -- and it worked great, until I had a bite of potato and then all bets were off. I've done NutriSystem, and it worked great -- until I went broke (and also, their food tastes really, really weird). I've done the Six-Week Body Makeover -- apparently my "Personalized Body Type" requires a diet of nothing but broiled chicken breasts and brussels sprouts. That's not happening. I've done eDiets (I think I'm still paying for that, actually) and I've done Weight Watchers Online. I've logged calories on LiveStrong, and counted points and counted carbs and weighed every piece of food that went in my mouth. I've logged exercise and kept food diaries. I've done The Firm (like really done it, every day, for weeks) and Zumba and the Belly twins and on and on. And guess what?

I'm fat.

My husband and daughter say, "Shut up! You're not fat." But I have eyes, and also, I have seen pictures.

Photo credit: Bob Edens

I'm fat. My mom is fat (sorry, Mom!), my dad is fat, my husband is fat, my brother is fat (but getting skinnier), my aunt is alternatively fat or scarily skinny -- my family is a fat family (most of the time). My daughter takes after her dad's family and is totally normal weight but she is the only one in a sea of fat people. I think it's really too bad that making a statement of fact (person X is overweight) has turned into an attack. I'm honestly not trying to be self-hating when I say I am fat, or hateful when I say someone I know is fat. It's an objective observation that has become an insult, which is part of the problem I have with the whole body image issue.

I personally have never known what it feels like to be normal weight. When I diet, I don't even know what I'm aiming for -- and I think that's part of the problem. That number, whether it's a specific weight or a specific number of pounds, is a total abstraction. What would it feel like to weigh... let's say 60 pounds less than what I weigh now? I have no idea.

But that's not actually true. I was at least 60 pounds lighter in high school than I am now. When I was a young thing just out of college and living in Manhattan, I was so stressed out that I developed a weird eating disorder where I couldn't eat in public -- swallowing literally made me gag. I was a size 12! 12! I haven't been near a 12 in 20 years. But even though I have been in the magic normal BMI range before (if that's a real measure of anything), I've never, ever felt normal weight. I don't know what it feels like to not feel fat, even when, objectively, I wasn't fat.

I know what it feels like to feel fat, though. I felt fat most of my life. When I wasn't really fat, my inside image of myself was totally out of whack with what people were seeing. Part of the issue is that I'm tall and have big boobs and a really enormously broad back (thanks, Dad!), so people tend to call me things like "Amazon" when they walk by me on the street. I was always self-conscious about my size, even when size wasn't really an issue.

When I was in my late 20s, I moved to England, which is when something changed. The script flipped, so to speak (ha, I'm so hip). These days, if I never encountered a picture of myself, or looked in a mirror when I wasn't prepared, then I wouldn't feel fat either. In my head, I am awesome. Not thin, but curvy and shapely. In my head, my stomach is flat. My imagined self, as I'm walking around and doing my stuff and teaching my classes and dancing (more on that later, too) is freaking gorgeous and cool. I think that has a lot to do with why I have never been able to lose weight long term since I turned 30 -- now, in my head, I'm not THAT fat. But look at me (pictured here with one of my idols who is 10 years older than I am and at least 100 pounds lighter):

Photo credit: Pixie Vision Studios

Oh yeah, I'm that fat.

[Just to head off a bunch of negativity right from the start, I'm also healthy. Really. You can ask my doctor. She's not even worried about my weight. She's far more concerned that if I don't stop being such a stressball I'm going to collapse. But my blood pressure and everything else is A-OK. I even had a stress test recently, and they were NOT prepared for how long it took for my heart rate to get to whatever it has to get to. At first I could tell they were thinking, "Last one of the day. I'll get to leave early," but I just kept going.]

Seeing pictures of myself literally makes me want to kill myself. But one of my two chosen professions is highly picture-intensive, and also is totally about getting up in front of people and going "Look at me and my body! I'm awesome!" (My other profession is so totally the opposite -- although I do get up in front of people for about 12 hours a week, it's mostly to say "Look at this novel! It's awesome!" and then I go back to my office and sit in solitude [if I'm lucky]). I'm a big girl (ha!), so I don't kill myself every time I see a picture and even though I usually feel like crying, I don't. I skip past the really horrible ones and look for ones where I can go "That's not too bad." That's about as good as it gets. Here's a not too bad one -- I am winning a competition in this one:

It's still bad.

Or is it? I mean, that's my point, I guess. I am finally at a point where I feel like saying, "Hey, world -- this is me. Deal with it." But I have to be able to say that to myself first.

So I am fat. I am a dancer. I am a belly dancer. And I am awesome. But I would also like to be less fat. Because that is the world I am stuck in.

This blog is about my journey to having the outside me look more like the inside me. We need to meet in the middle.