yo-yo

Kickball

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Tonight, I scored my very first run after a season of playing kickball.

It was GLORIOUS.

For months, I’ve felt like the weak link on the team. I’m part of a co-ed league, which requires a specific numbers of females in order to be official. The other girls on the team are current [or recently retired] soccer players, so I’ve struggled with the feeling that I’m the token “non-athlete” on the team; the mascot just there to fill a quota.

Of course, every member of the team has been amazingly supportive and encouraging and I know that I’m actually a decent player when it boils down. However, the feelings of inadequacy – of being picked last for so many years when I was younger – have stuck with me.

Tonight, I went up to bat for the second time and managed to get on base. This is an accomplishment for me, as I have a habit of kicking pop flies that land perfectly in the pitcher’s arms. I was thrilled to be on base, but assumed I’d likely get tagged out in a few minutes. Amazingly, the next batter came up [we had 2 outs] and kicked right into a gap in the field, advancing me to second and then third.

I was FLOORED.

I don’t think I had made it to third before, except during practice games and my dreams. I stood on third, checking out the loaded bases, baffled to have fallen into another dimension where I could possibly score a point for my team. My coach on 3rd base told me to “run on anything” and when the batter kicked a line drive towards right field, I floored it.

And I scored a run.

It. Felt. AMAZING.

While I wasn’t the winning run, our team STOMPED the competition with a 16 > 2 win. It was pretty much a murder, but we were celebrated instead of arrested and sentenced to life. Unless you’re referring to a life of awesomeness, which I’m sure we’ll all enjoy.

However, in the midst of all the high fives, I was able to truly celebrate my contribution. One of those runs was because of ME. I crossed that home plate.

Yeah.

I’m feeling pretty darn happy tonight.

So happy, in fact, that I let two of my teammates teach me how to do a cartwheel. Something I’ve been scared to learn to do for YEARS.

It’s certainly not a pretty one, but I can flip myself over without landing on my head, so that’s a plus.

Today was a good day.

Bon appetit, my friends.

~ Tori

A Positive Body Image

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For those of us that struggle with an eating disorder – and, likely, those that just aren’t 100% happy with how they look even if it doesn’t go so far as an ED – maintaining a positive body image is a challenge. In most cases, it’s nearly impossible.

I, for one, have a constant struggle with body image. If I didn’t lay out my outfits the evening before and force myself to wear whatever I prepared, I’d likely spend a solid hour changing every morning because I do not feel comfortable with how I look in my clothing. It is rare for me to truly feel good in my own skin, so on the rare occasion I do, it’s cause for celebration.

Today, I discovered one of those rare moments.

This afternoon, as a reward for all that I’ve accomplished in the last few weeks, I decided to get a massage.

You’d think that the act of stripping down to your skivvies, laying on a table, and allowing a total stranger to touch you [sounds way more perverted than it is, I assure you] would be the last thing to boost my self image.

Yet, that’s exactly what it did.

It wasn’t the other person, of course. It was the sensation. Feeling the tension in my muscles. The connective tissue. Having the masseuse work out the knots in my legs that were there not as a result of stress, but as a result of the workouts and effort I’ve been putting in. Feeling the strength in my joints, the tendons stretching – I felt in tune with my body for the first time in many years.

This wasn’t my first massage; however, this was the first time I really connected with my body. Instead of trying to forget about my thick thighs or jiggly arms, I focused all of my attention on the muscles below the skin and how they responded to the therapy.

For that brief hour, I was proud of my body.

Proud of the aches and pains. Proud of the stretchmarks, which are a constant reminder of the journey I’ve been on for nearly a decade. Each one a tiny, faded badge of honor – a memory of the old me.

Of course, I can’t expect to get a massage every day of my life as a means of boosting my self-image, so I’ll have to seek out other ways of becoming more comfortable with who I am.

However, today’s stolen hour reminded me of the hard work that I’ve put in and the efforts I’ve been taking to be healthy, inside and out. It reinforced the mindset that I have to be good to my body in order for it to be good to me in return.

With that in mind, I’m going for a run before the sun sets on a good day.

Bon appetit, my friends!

~ Tori

Kryptonite

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Everyone has one. Or two. Or a dozen.

Everyone has that food – or that collection of different foods – that melts their resolve.

That food that breaks through all of the walls of determination, shreds will power into millions of shiny little pieces of confetti.

For me, that’s chocolate in almost all of it’s forms.

  • Chocolate Bars
  • Chocolate Cupcakes
  • Brownies
  • Chocolate-Covered Donuts
  • Chocolate Ice Cream
  • Chocolate-Covered Strawberries [That’s healthy, right? It’s a fruit.]
  • Chocolate-Infused Beer. [Yes, they make that.]
  • Fudge
  • Chocolate Muffins
  • Chocolate Cake
  • Chocolate-Anything Cookies

Yeah, I could go on for hours here.

I’m salivating at the thought of these delectable goodies. Why does this one food destroy every shred of self-control I can muster?

I WANT CHOCOLATE NOW.

Since I cannot control myself around these items, I tend to keep them out of my house. I buy fruit sorbets to satiate my sweet tooth and avoid picking up any chocolate-based candies unless I know the person I give them to will keep it away from me.

Is avoidance the only way to avoid over-indulgence? Must I be like Superman and dodge my kryptonite at all costs? Or is there a happy medium to this craving?

I’m still working on an answer to that.

Fighting a craving,

~ Tori

 

An Outtake

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Whew.

I’m exhausted today. And feeling a little bloated from all of the junk food I had to “stage-bite” last night for photos.

Who am I kidding?

I totally ate two Reese’s cups purely because I wanted ’em. Yum! And I’d do it again, too.

It’s going to take me a few days to edit all of the footage from our filming last night, but I did want to post an outtake to give a little sneak-peak for how the documentary will look.

Enjoy:

Huge thanks to my friend Emily [times 1,000,000] for all of her help. I owe her the world.

Bon appetit, my friends!

~ Tori

Filming is COMPLETE!

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This evening, I completed the filming for my mini-documentary for this blog.

It was emotional, vulnerable, and beautiful.

I am blessed to have a great friend who called in favors to design the studio, use professional lighting and filming equipment, and provide moral support as I bared my heart [and ridiculously pale skin] to the world.

It will take a few days to sort through all of the footage, make the necessary edits, do the narration, and get the video ready to present, but I can tell you my heart is fit to bursting from the love and support I’ve already received with the start of this project.

I hope to have the video fully edited and ready to post no later than this Friday.

Thank you for your patience and bon appetit, my friends.

~ Tori

Logic > Emotion?

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Another confession: today is a very, very low day for me.

After several days of NOT stressing about food and pretty much just eating what I wanted to [still relatively healthy, but larger portions], I hopped on the scale today.

Four pounds up. In less than three days since my last weigh-in.

Logically, I know this is NOT possible. I would have had to consume more than 14,000 calories (3,500 calories per pound gained) over what I needed to survive in order to put on this much weight. Not to mention that I exercised substantially in the last few days – kickball, over an hour on the elliptical, running errands –  it’s just not physically possible that I’ve gained a solid four pounds of fat.

Logically, I understand this.

Emotionally, I’m in tatters.

I’m mad at myself.

I feel guilty.

I feel fat.

Disgusting.

Pathetic.

Worthless.

This is the emotional roller coaster all yo-yo dieters face. We have our ups. We have our downs.

Today is a down.

I am blessed that I have a husband who, amazingly, understands. He had been overweight as a kid and, as a result, he can empathize with my struggle on a deeper level than most.

Instead of letting me sink into a depression, he’s taking me out. We’re going to drive around and look at properties [we’ve been house-hunting for a while] and then hit the farmer’s market for fresh, organic vegetables and fruits. We’re going to savor the cooler weather and the sunlight.

We’re not going to let a number on the scale ruin an otherwise perfect day.

Can logic overpower emotion?

Today, I’m going to find out.

~ Tori

Eat Right 4 Your Blood Type

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A few years ago, my mother-in-law introduced me to the concept of eating for your blood type. There’s a diet for that? Yup.

Basically, the book consists of four specialized diets which cater to the four major blood types: O, A, B, and AB.

As an A+ bloodtype [and GPA, I might add!], the book detailed that a vegetarian diet was the ideal program for me. Woohoo! I prefer a meatless diet, so this seemed like a perfect plan. My husband, having read over the book with me, decided he wanted to try to eat for his blood type, as well. He is an O.

Crap. The meat-eater.

Well, this was going to be interesting. Two opposite diets trying to coexist in the same household. Could it work?

Since I’m the main cook for the household [AKA, my husband only knows how to make scrambled eggs and flip a burger on the grill], I decided to review the food items that we’re shared between the two diets and try to prepare meals that worked for both of us.

Ummmm, yeah. That really limited our options.

Per the O-bloodtype diet plan, carbs were the enemy. [Boy, that sounds familiar.] His diet should be primarily composed of lean meats, green vegetables, and limited sugars, even from natural fruit. My diet plan was filled with soy, veggies of all colors, and strictly forbade most dairy products.

Together, we could eat broccoli. Awesome. Well, we were guaranteed to lose weight, that’s for sure.

So I decided to look at the column of foods that were “allowed,” but were suggested to be eaten in extreme moderation between both diets. That opened up chicken, eggs, and a larger variety of shared vegetables. Well, at least we had some commonalities.

Over the next four weeks, my husband dropped weight like a champ. Living on primarily grilled steak and chicken, along with roasted asparagus, zucchini, and broccoli, the weight fell off of him like water. Considering he wasn’t overweight to begin with, we were both stunned at how great he looked.

On the other hand, I was eating a diet comprised primarily of miso soup, pineapple, grapefruit juice, buckwheat noodles, and lots and lots of tofu. I gained six pounds. Huh.

Needless to say, I dropped the diet plan pretty quickly, going for a balanced nutrition plan that included lean meats back into the equation. One of the hardest things I’ve noticed with any vegan, vegetarian, or meatless diet plan is that I find it very hard to feel full, even when consuming meat alternatives. As a result, I tend to overeat, gorging myself with fruits and grains to try and satiate the hunger that never fully goes away.

Perhaps this is why I keep having bad results with any diet that fully prohibits any food group? Maybe it’s purely psychological; the moment you restrict a food, it’s all I want to eat. And, since I can’t have it, I find myself inhaling the foods I can have, trying to recreate the pleasure and satisfaction I assume the off-limit food would have provided.

Hmmmmm. Might have stumbled upon something interesting here.

Will explore that in a later post.

As for now, bon appetit!

~ Tori

Taste

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One of the things I love most about food is the fact that everyone can respond differently to it. Unlike a drug, such as heroine or cocaine, where the majority of users will become addicted, food has the power to attract as well as to repel. That makes it a very personalized drug, which I would consider to be all the more intriguing and, in some cases, dangerous.

Take, for example, sushi. In my case, it is the equivalent of barrel-aged whiskey to an alcoholic. It’s nearly impossible for me to resist and I will continue to eat it long after my stomach sends the signals to my brain that it’s full. In fact, my stomach has to basically resort to an airhorn and whirling lights before I’ll stop shoveling the seaweed wrapped deliciousness into my mouth. It’s that strong of an addiction for me.

However, this very food tends to repulse a large portion of the population. There are people who won’t so much as try a piece of cooked sushi, nonetheless engorge themselves on sashimi and ngiri at the speed I inhale it.

How is that?

My mind reels at the thought that something I find absolutely irresistible can be revolting – pugnacious! – to someone else. I found the concept so interesting that I did a bit of research on the “science” of taste, and here is what I learned.

  • Physiologically speaking, our four major taste buds evolved because that was one of the few ways prehistoric man had of determining what was edible or not. For example, since your body needs salt to function properly, you are able to detect salt, crave it, and seek it out. The same applies to sugar: you need carbohydrates for energy, so you naturally are inclined to like sweet and starchy things as an almost Pavlovian response to the spike you know it will provide.
  • Genetically speaking, some food tastes different to certain people. I won’t go into the science behind it (primarily because I didn’t understand 95% of what I read about it), but one article I read discussed that fact that a specific chemical, phenylthiocarbamide, is either tasteless to some or horrifically bitter to others, which is purely based on their genetic makeup. Applying this same principle to all foods and drinks, it can be assumed that what tastes good to me could be repulsive, purely because their genetic makeup processes the flavor differently. An interesting thought!
  • Some people were not exposed to a variety of foods when they were young, so they never acquired a taste for the varieties of herbs, spices, and flavors that exist. I know MANY people like this. They grew up eating chicken nuggets and fries from McDonald’s as a child and, as a result, find pretty much every food with a hint of natural flavor or real vegetable to be disgusting. Is that a form of child abuse? It should be.

I’m sure most of you aren’t going to be as interested in this topic as I am, but I thought I’d share my findings nonetheless. It still blows my mind that there are people out there who hate chocolate, hate wine, and hate exotic cheeses – three things I probably couldn’t live without. However, looking at it from a positive viewpoint, that just means there’s more for me.

Hmmmm. Maybe if my tastebuds changed and I suddenly hated the taste of all unhealthy and fattening foods, I would no longer need to have a blog about dieting? Doubtful, but something to hope for!

On that note, I think it’s time for some lunch!

Sushi, anyone?

~ Tori