No one has EVER accused me of being manly. Even in my days of exclusive girl-kissing, my outward aspect has always been consumately gender-identified and overtly girly. Why then, every time I run across a study that even vaguely broaches the topic of human sexuality, do I find myself checking everything down the list of typical male patterns, thought processes and behaviors and leaving nary a mark down the analogous female list?
Case in point: this article about a study on sex dreams across genders. First off, I noted a bunch of problems with this study-- not the least among them that they only surveyed 173 people, with nearly twice as many women as men. Second, the study only went on for less than a month! How many people can conjure up enough sex dreams in a month for them to have any substantive tales to tell?
But then, the (slightly suspect) statistics they derive from this study are pretty divergent from my own idiosyncratic experience. Women, supposedly, dream about celebrities or past and present lovers--familiar faces, in other words-- while men dream about strangers, in multiplicity and in public. I can't remember the last time I dreamt about someone familiar... in fact, sometimes the folks in my dreams are barely even human. These dreamscape denizens of mine are often possessing somewhat amorphous genders of their own or are strange hybrids of varying sorts. And FREQUENTLY, the venue is both public and including more than one other somebody hanging around.
And then this part, well...:
And finally, when it came to erotic dreams that dealt with sexual disappointments, the genders had very different tales to tell.
The women recounted scenarios where they were turned off by something that happened or the pace of proceedings. For the men, it was more often a case of their virtual partners refusing to engage in certain activities, or their sexcapade plans falling through for some reason.
I would venture to say that being rejected and/or left hanging in one of my dreams is more the rule than the exception... and I can't remember even one instance of my being the one to lose interest. (I know, I know, this probably bespeaks something or other about a great and long series of my own petty insecurities. Shut up. I don't wanna talk about it.)
And so, I find studies like this to be intensely frustrating-- and only partly because they reinforce so many tired and outmoded ideas about the ways women define their own sexuality. The lion's share of my frustration about these stems from the fact that they make me feel so blasted abnormal. You know all those studies that say that men think about sex between 30 and 70 times a day while women only think about it between 2 and 10 times a day? Anyone who reads this blog, or has met me, or has seen me walk down a street could probably guess that sex is, like, the default setting in my brain. And while, yes, male and female friends alike like to accuse me of being the dirtiest-minded girl they know, I honestly don't think I'm alone amongst my gender in my fixation.
The end of that article atributes the readiness to discuss sexual matters among female participants (in comparison to participants of older studies of this topic) to our living in a post-sexual-revolution era. And I'll allow that our timeframe for this study could contribute to their openness-- but I don't think women actually THINK about sex more or less now that we're so "liberated." And I find the notion that the 1960s would be responsible for having any notable effect on the female libido at all to be entirely patronizing.
And what about the factors that the study doesn't address? Which of the women surveyed were on The Pill at the time of questioning? I know that, during the tiny epoch in which I experimented with hormone therapy, my own sex drive bottomed out. I know, people! It was horrible!!! But what other outside factors could effect brain chemistry in such a way as to quell or exacerbate certain dream motifs? Surely there are plenty. Ugh! This study was just so shoddily conducted, I can't stand it!
So, well, fine. I'm a freak. Or my testosterone levels are too high. Or I really am nothing but a consistent exception to the rules of gendered studies.
But don't worry, fair readers. I won't go a-changin'!
Showing posts with label way too much information. Show all posts
Showing posts with label way too much information. Show all posts
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Days 7, 8 and 9
I would have posted more stuff about my various and assorted gastronomic adventures this weekend, but it was really more of the same and I was bored with that. I did, in fact, manage to make it all the way up until this morning when I broke my fast with a glass of diluted orange juice. I get to drink several glasses of OJ today... and no solid food until late in the day tomorrow. So far, I've had no issues with the orange juice but I'm nervous about having my stomach reject stuff tomorrow. I've got a bottle of pro-biotics at home, and one of the websites recommends that I take some of those to restore the good bacteria to my belly. Usually, pro-biotics (the opposite of antibiotics) do wonders for my general feeling of well-being. If I liked yogurt or Kombucha (fermented green tea-- some whacked-out-tasting stuff!) more, I'd probably stick to those, seeing as they contain similar live active cultures, but I'll admit to breaking my no-pill rule for this particular dietary supplement.
So, anyway, my skin is clearer than it has been since before I hit puberty and I can once again fit into the jeans I bought when I was going through my break-up with my ex-girlfriend, Michelle, three years ago. And the best news of all? I don't itch anymore! So, all in all, I deem this project a success.
However, I'm itching (in a psychic sort of way) to get back to my usual movie rants. I still haven't finished talking about the NaFF and, over the past few weeks, I've been staging an Almodovar retrospective in my living room in celebration of the DVD release of Volver.
And so, let this post mark the official end of my discussion of my fast. There've been laughs. There've been tears. There's been controversy. There's been food-porn. But now it's over.
And to that, I toast with a glass of diluted orange juice.
So, anyway, my skin is clearer than it has been since before I hit puberty and I can once again fit into the jeans I bought when I was going through my break-up with my ex-girlfriend, Michelle, three years ago. And the best news of all? I don't itch anymore! So, all in all, I deem this project a success.
However, I'm itching (in a psychic sort of way) to get back to my usual movie rants. I still haven't finished talking about the NaFF and, over the past few weeks, I've been staging an Almodovar retrospective in my living room in celebration of the DVD release of Volver.
And so, let this post mark the official end of my discussion of my fast. There've been laughs. There've been tears. There's been controversy. There's been food-porn. But now it's over.
And to that, I toast with a glass of diluted orange juice.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Day 5: stop giving me shit, people!
So, it seems some friends are starting to give me some flack about how unhealthy "fad diets" are and whatnot. This thing that I'm doing is called the Master Cleanse and versions of it have been around for centuries. You can follow this link if you simply must have more information, but I can assure you: it's perfectly safe. Grade B maple syrup is loaded with minerals and assorted vitamins-- not to mention sugar (i.e., calories)-- and let's keep in mind, I'm drinking about a cup and a half of it every day! And lemon juice is a natural antiseptic that kills all kinds of bad stuff. And the cayenne is just yummy. OK, that's just because I like it. Really, I think the concoction tastes pretty good-- and I'm not just saying that because I haven't eaten anything in two days. But folks, seriously. I'm fine. I need to get the evil, toxic, sickening, rash-inducing prescription drugs out of my system. If I go to a conventional doctor, he or she will poopoo my anxieties about taking drugs and then prescribe something new and even more evil. I've taken that avenue before and at this point, I feel like conventional medicine is for emergencies only. If I had to ask someone to sew my arm back on, sure, I'd go to a hospital. But little day-to-day ailments? I do believe that you can use food as medicine -- and as much as I love many things that aren't so good for me, I have to acknowledge the fact that I really do feel a lot better when I don't eat those things. So, folks, lay off it! I'm not trying to kill myself or do damage to my internal organs or starve myself skinny or anything of that nature. I want these toxins out of my body... and I want them out NOW! I don't think this is unreasonable.
However, after that big long disclaimer, I find that I must admit that I'm beginning to lose faith in this project. I was actually far less hungry today than I was yesterday. I feel perfectly normal, actually. I'm having these doubts today mainly I don't think I'm really experiencing too many of the detox symptoms. I'll spare you the details and let the curious follow this link. Except, maybe, I've gotten a little of the tongue-coating thing but I really attribute that back to the maple syrup. It's a hell of a lot of sugar that I'm ingesting. It's only natural that it would do that to the inside of my mouth.
But I'm thinking, well, I don't smoke (not one cigarette in my entire life, thank you) and I drink, really, very little alcohol. I eat meat maybe two or three times a week and, outside of the tablespoon of cream I put in my coffee, dairy things are kind of special-occasions food items for me. So, the worst that I do to myself is that I eat more wheat than I should-- though I try to do whole grains as much as possible-- and the one single cup of coffee in the mornings. My point is that maybe I'm already pretty clean? With the exception of two rounds of antibiotics in the last year (both of which I reacted to) and about three nights last month where I had to take a decongestant so I could sleep, well, how toxic could I be?
Seeing as I feel ok, I think I could probably pull this out for a while if I had to. But I'm not sure I see the point when I feel pretty confident that my body will have gotten rid of the majority its bad stuff by, like, Saturday. And I'm not sure that continuing this just to test my mental fortitude is all that great a reason to do so. My goal is still to hold out until the end of Sunday... and I guess I'll assess if I want to keep going when I get there.
However, after that big long disclaimer, I find that I must admit that I'm beginning to lose faith in this project. I was actually far less hungry today than I was yesterday. I feel perfectly normal, actually. I'm having these doubts today mainly I don't think I'm really experiencing too many of the detox symptoms. I'll spare you the details and let the curious follow this link. Except, maybe, I've gotten a little of the tongue-coating thing but I really attribute that back to the maple syrup. It's a hell of a lot of sugar that I'm ingesting. It's only natural that it would do that to the inside of my mouth.
But I'm thinking, well, I don't smoke (not one cigarette in my entire life, thank you) and I drink, really, very little alcohol. I eat meat maybe two or three times a week and, outside of the tablespoon of cream I put in my coffee, dairy things are kind of special-occasions food items for me. So, the worst that I do to myself is that I eat more wheat than I should-- though I try to do whole grains as much as possible-- and the one single cup of coffee in the mornings. My point is that maybe I'm already pretty clean? With the exception of two rounds of antibiotics in the last year (both of which I reacted to) and about three nights last month where I had to take a decongestant so I could sleep, well, how toxic could I be?
Seeing as I feel ok, I think I could probably pull this out for a while if I had to. But I'm not sure I see the point when I feel pretty confident that my body will have gotten rid of the majority its bad stuff by, like, Saturday. And I'm not sure that continuing this just to test my mental fortitude is all that great a reason to do so. My goal is still to hold out until the end of Sunday... and I guess I'll assess if I want to keep going when I get there.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Day 3/4: Food is for sissies
So, I got bored with listing all the things I ate so I didn't post yesterday. It was more vegan, sugar-free, salt-free, caffeine free fun. Or at least, in comparison today, it sure sounds like fun. I went to Trader Joe's (complete and utter torture, by the way... especially the open carton of chocolate-covered soynut samples at the checkout) to pick up some more lemons and water, wondering if my checkout person was going to think I ran a lemonade stand for a living... but instead, he asked me if I was afraid I'd get scurvy. I'm pleased to report that I have no scurvy anxieties whatsoever.
However, as I launch into this fast, I'm encountering a few unanticipated other anxieties. For one, I'm not sure that I trust this lemon/maple syrup/cayenne concoction to actually keep me alive. I mean, the conviction that a body needs food to live runs pretty deep. The deal is, every time I feel hungry, I'm supposed to drink some of this stuff. OK, but the thing is, every time I get hungry I think about food and then I remind myself that I'm not allowed to eat any, I get a little panicked. And really, a good long swig of this stuff does stave off the hunger for, like, 1/2 an hour or so. But every time I get hungry, I can't seem to shake the doubt that I'll get that 1/2 hour of reprieve. On an average day, I have this massive friggin' appetite. I tend wonder if I'm a little sick when I'm NOT just a little bit hungry. So, I drank about 4 1/2 liters of this stuff today. And four more days of this? I'm kinda scared. I mean, what if I wake up in the middle of the night so hungry that I can't sleep? Or, am I ingesting so few calories that my body will require more rest?
But beyond these smaller worries, the desire to eat is so closely related to the desire to keep living that I'm pretty sure food consumption is more than just a habit we've all gotten into and can't quite shake. Hunger is not a state of mind. Generally, I resist the notion that the mind and the body are separate concepts, seeing as that which creates the mind-- i.e., the brain-- is a body part. And so this sort of activity that pits the mind against the body in a contest of wills goes against my general sense of philosophic direction. I'm secretly hoping that either my mind decides this is a hare-brained idea and gives up or my body gets into the swing of things and stops arguing so vehemently about its needs. Because even thinking about them as separate entities isn't making much sense to me. Perhaps this isn't so much of a debate between mind and body-- both of which, in the end, require food to operate-- but between will and necessity. Or between will and desire. See? There you go. I guess my own personal jury is still out on whether hunger is a question of desire or need.
I'm sure I'll have more to say on that, as I have a hunch, along about Friday, I'll be eroticizing everything edible of which I can think.
Also, drinking this much maple syrup has deposited a distinct layer of plaque all over my teeth, and the rest of my mouth, too. Tomorrow, I shall be bringing my toothbrush with me to work. Yuck!
However, as I launch into this fast, I'm encountering a few unanticipated other anxieties. For one, I'm not sure that I trust this lemon/maple syrup/cayenne concoction to actually keep me alive. I mean, the conviction that a body needs food to live runs pretty deep. The deal is, every time I feel hungry, I'm supposed to drink some of this stuff. OK, but the thing is, every time I get hungry I think about food and then I remind myself that I'm not allowed to eat any, I get a little panicked. And really, a good long swig of this stuff does stave off the hunger for, like, 1/2 an hour or so. But every time I get hungry, I can't seem to shake the doubt that I'll get that 1/2 hour of reprieve. On an average day, I have this massive friggin' appetite. I tend wonder if I'm a little sick when I'm NOT just a little bit hungry. So, I drank about 4 1/2 liters of this stuff today. And four more days of this? I'm kinda scared. I mean, what if I wake up in the middle of the night so hungry that I can't sleep? Or, am I ingesting so few calories that my body will require more rest?
But beyond these smaller worries, the desire to eat is so closely related to the desire to keep living that I'm pretty sure food consumption is more than just a habit we've all gotten into and can't quite shake. Hunger is not a state of mind. Generally, I resist the notion that the mind and the body are separate concepts, seeing as that which creates the mind-- i.e., the brain-- is a body part. And so this sort of activity that pits the mind against the body in a contest of wills goes against my general sense of philosophic direction. I'm secretly hoping that either my mind decides this is a hare-brained idea and gives up or my body gets into the swing of things and stops arguing so vehemently about its needs. Because even thinking about them as separate entities isn't making much sense to me. Perhaps this isn't so much of a debate between mind and body-- both of which, in the end, require food to operate-- but between will and necessity. Or between will and desire. See? There you go. I guess my own personal jury is still out on whether hunger is a question of desire or need.
I'm sure I'll have more to say on that, as I have a hunch, along about Friday, I'll be eroticizing everything edible of which I can think.
Also, drinking this much maple syrup has deposited a distinct layer of plaque all over my teeth, and the rest of my mouth, too. Tomorrow, I shall be bringing my toothbrush with me to work. Yuck!
Monday, May 7, 2007
Day 2
The good news is that my headache has abated, to a degree. It's still there but I can think again, which is always nice.
The bad news is that I've been hungry for most of the day.
I forced myself to drink a smoothie made of berries and almonds and a banana well before my hunger cue had kicked in for the day, mostly because I couldn't think of a good way to transport the stuff to work. What would they do if I showed up with my mini-cuisinart and a frozen banana? And then I got to eat 3 plums.. which I tried to drag out all morning because the early smoothie kick-started my appetite. I made it all the way to 10:30 before I was eying the remains of a chocolate bar, still on my desk from my previous life... uh... last week. And then around 11:30, I caved and figured I'd better go investigate the large bowl of chopped raw vegetables I'd brought for lunch. It included alfalfa sprouts, yellow bell pepper, cherry tomatoes, cucumber and the better portion of a bulb of fennel. To dress that big bowl of health, I was allowed a tablespoon of flaxseed oil, some lime juice, an insane amount of garlic and cayenne pepper. I've been eating so much garlic the last couple of days, I don't know how much fun it is to hang out with me. Fortunately for me, I cannot smell myself! And then, my afternoon snack consisted of celery and cucumber sticks for the dipping into tahini. And you know? The first few bites of tahini all by itself (as opposed to in its proper place amongst chickpeas and lemon juice) are ok. But long about your 7th or 8th bite, it occurs to you that tahini tastes a lot like snot. And so, I deemed snack time over. When I finally decided that I was going to vacate my miserable job for the evening, I rushed home because I was already starving and knew I had at least an hour of cooking ahead of me. And here I sit, shoveling down a bowl of pureed vegetable soup that was just awful until I added a buttload of the approved herbs and spices. It's still bland and less satsifying than the squash/potato thing I made last night. I think, in a little while, I get to eat a bowl of fruit with some pecans on top. While I'm sure this sounds festive to all of you, I'm really beginning to doubt my commitment to the post-detox fast part. If I'm this hungry while I'm still eating solid food... yeah, I just don't know...
Man, I'd really love a burger and some icecream right about now.
The bad news is that I've been hungry for most of the day.
I forced myself to drink a smoothie made of berries and almonds and a banana well before my hunger cue had kicked in for the day, mostly because I couldn't think of a good way to transport the stuff to work. What would they do if I showed up with my mini-cuisinart and a frozen banana? And then I got to eat 3 plums.. which I tried to drag out all morning because the early smoothie kick-started my appetite. I made it all the way to 10:30 before I was eying the remains of a chocolate bar, still on my desk from my previous life... uh... last week. And then around 11:30, I caved and figured I'd better go investigate the large bowl of chopped raw vegetables I'd brought for lunch. It included alfalfa sprouts, yellow bell pepper, cherry tomatoes, cucumber and the better portion of a bulb of fennel. To dress that big bowl of health, I was allowed a tablespoon of flaxseed oil, some lime juice, an insane amount of garlic and cayenne pepper. I've been eating so much garlic the last couple of days, I don't know how much fun it is to hang out with me. Fortunately for me, I cannot smell myself! And then, my afternoon snack consisted of celery and cucumber sticks for the dipping into tahini. And you know? The first few bites of tahini all by itself (as opposed to in its proper place amongst chickpeas and lemon juice) are ok. But long about your 7th or 8th bite, it occurs to you that tahini tastes a lot like snot. And so, I deemed snack time over. When I finally decided that I was going to vacate my miserable job for the evening, I rushed home because I was already starving and knew I had at least an hour of cooking ahead of me. And here I sit, shoveling down a bowl of pureed vegetable soup that was just awful until I added a buttload of the approved herbs and spices. It's still bland and less satsifying than the squash/potato thing I made last night. I think, in a little while, I get to eat a bowl of fruit with some pecans on top. While I'm sure this sounds festive to all of you, I'm really beginning to doubt my commitment to the post-detox fast part. If I'm this hungry while I'm still eating solid food... yeah, I just don't know...
Man, I'd really love a burger and some icecream right about now.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Day 1
Hunger:
Most of my energy today has gone into food preparation. Really, I haven't been inordinately hungry at all because, although this initial three-day detox consists of eating simple carbs-- i.e., quickly digesting foods-- I've been able to continue feeding myself around the clock. My lunch today consisted of a makeshift guacamole, which I found surprisingly tasty, despite the fact that I couldn't eat it with chips and despite the other fact that I couldn't put salt in it. I also had a sizable bowl of mache with lemon juice and flaxseed oil. So far, this isn't really all that far off from what I usually eat. And then I got a weird afternoon snack of grilled grapefruit with ginger on top (this was a little odd but not too bad). And then for dinner, I made this thing that I thought I was gonna hate-- made from sweet potatoes and acorn squash (I don't like either of these particularly unless I can add a lot of salt to them-- and that's against the rules here) and a turnip (which I didn't have, so I substituted a couple baby Yukon golds). But then I got to load it up with garlic, cayenne, cumin, turmeric, coriander and paprika... and, I swear! I'd eat it even if I weren't on a crazy diet. Hell, I think it's a good option for a the obligatory Thanksgiving sweet potatoes which I resent having to make every year, though, I think I'd add salt if I were going to feed it to anyone else. And then I had another bowl of greens and flaxseed oil.
It's occurred to me as I've been standing in the kitchen all day that I've fallen into some serious single-girl eating habits. I rarely cook anything more often that once a week or so. My evening meal frequently consists of hummus, pitas, a carton of cherry tomatoes and a glass of wine. And the thing is, I eat in front of my computer screen and don't really spend much mental energy on what I'm consuming at all. When I was in my last long-term relationship, I cooked a lot-- and WE cooked a lot. And we grocery shopped together... and I feel like I just thought about food a whole lot more than I have since I moved to DC. It was more than a necessity; it was a part of our little two-person community. I do miss that part of being hooked up, I guess. And truly, food is important to me. More on this later.
Headache:
As I mentioned in my post earlier this morning, I awoke with a slight headache, which I attribute to my caffeine withdrawal. And this headache has swelled and blossomed into a real humdinger throughout the day. At some moments, it feels as though my brain is sloshing about in a bucket of water. It's dizzying and liquidy and thick. And then, at other moments, it's more of a shimmering sort of pain-- pointilistic, almost-- and it feels like it exists in a wide, airy halo OUTSIDE of my skull. It's so big, I swear. I napped briefly this afternoon, hoping to assuage my body's hew and cry for a friggin' cuppa joe... but, when my mom's phone call woke me up, I'm afraid I was barely coherent. And even now, this beast persists.
I had, in fact, been anticipating this headache. A couple of years ago, I found a lump the size of an olive in my right breast. After a visit to the radiologist, it was assessed to be just one of those cysts that a lot of women get, though its size seemed to impress the doctor, especially because I was only 28. The doctor told me that I could shrink the cyst significantly if I cut caffeine out completely. And so, I went through this business back then, too. Slowly, of course, first green tea, then black tea and finally coffee all found their ways back into my grocery cart. And so, here I am, suffering through this swimmy feeling all over again.
It has been suggested to me that perhaps this headache and, also, the rash that's prompted this little experiment, have occurred only because I've anticipated them. But I would venture to say that there's a big difference between hypochondria and being able to recognize the cues that our bodies give us. I mean, pain and physical discomfort have their uses. That's how our bodies tell us when we've done something that they don't like. And in the case of this headache, I know exactly what would make it go away but I'm choosing not to make myself that cup of coffee. And choosing anew with every minute. Ugh. Really, my being able to easily determine and attribute the causes of my weird symptoms-- instead of becoming increasing anxious and frustrated when I can't sleep due to my intensely itchy feet, for example-- is kinda the opposite of hypochondria. There is value to this sort of bodily awareness, I think. At the very least, I can feel proactive towards ridding myself of these annoyances.
Back on task:
So, yes, I've been meditating on food and its relation to self-- my self, in particular-- all day. In my own peculiar world view, food-- even moreso than sex-- is the bottom line for us all. And as such, I've come to see the consumption thereof as a deeply political act. Lucky for me, there are other folks out there with similar ideas...and some of those folks make documentaries! You didn't think I'd stop talking about movies altogether, now, did you?
Probably my favorite film that I saw during the Film Festival was a really-and-truly top-notch documentary called Milk in the Land: Ballad of an American Drink. The two directors, Ariana Gerstein and Monteith McCollum, have gotten a little notoriety in the past for another agricultural documentary called Hybrid, which is, I think, about corn. I don't know if I can get my hands on that film, but I certainly hope to. Part of what's so great about this film is that it's stylistically atypical of documentaries. They use quite a bit of creepy, foggy, time-lapse footage of cows and some other low-fi animation techniques to create an atmosphere that is positively Gothic.
I'm not sure I actually learned much from this film, which is, I suppose, intended to be informative, but I've also previously sought out most of the information conveyed here. The film opens with a guy discussing the ways in which cow's milk is generally detrimental to one's personal constitution-- he talks about all the cancers and diseases and weight problems and phlegm and skin problems and everything else that are more common amongst populations that consume large amounts of dairy. And I've heard these statistics so many times that I'm inclined to think they're true. But the quirky little zealot they have preaching this particular sermon is totally hilarious and really quite convincing. Well, sorta. There's not much that's gonna make me replace the cheese on my pizza with that pasty soycheese nonsense... or cut out icecream permanently.
There's also a lovely little segment in which they discuss the inherent racism in the promotion of milk as an All-American beverage. It's very well-documented that white folks are less likely to be lactose-intolerant than members of any other race on the planet. I, for one, have absolutely no issues digesting dairy. My Asian friend Brian, however, is quite proud of his puking-up-a-milkshake discovery of his intolerance. It's a gross story. Trust me. And I know that the public school system has always provided under-privileged students with free milk-- thus making them both sick and sleepy (sleepiness is a symptom of low-level food intolerance-- this happens to me every time I eat bread. Gluten, you're a bastard!). An interesting tidbit from the movie: in the early parts of the 20th century, most white babies were fed via bottles with these crazy long rubber tubes attached to the nipples. Bacteria would grow in the tubes and the babies would get sick and die... meanwhile, all the black babies, whose parents could afford milk, were breastfed and thusly, lived. Fascinating, eh? It is to me, anyway!
The movie then launches into a long section about organic and natural farming... and the ethics of food consumption. When I tell people that I do most of my shopping at organic grocery stores, they're frequently appalled that I would spend so much on food. Those with families say things like, "well, I have to buy so much for my kids that spending all that money is just a waste." And this sort of comment sickens my heart a little bit. There was one farmer interviewed in this film who relayed a story about a man approaching him at his farmer's market booth. The man asked the farmer how he could have the gall to charge so much for his eggs. The farmer answered, saying that he hoped to one day be able to achieve the same standard of living as his customers. And guys like him are just one of the beneficiaries of supporting sustainable agriculture. I mean, the effluvia that flow from big corporate farms? That stuff is systematically, unaccountably, destroying the ecosystems of their surrounds. And this film goes on to show plenty of creepy giant robots milking cows that see daylight maybe once a week-- if that! And this doesn't begin to address the fact that the hormone additives in all conventionally-produced animal products cause cancer, infertility, zits, and a host of other human ailments.
Oh, and there was also a rather elucidating segment in which the filmmakers explored these caves that were full, floor to ceiling, with bags and bags and bags of powdered milk that the government has bought off of dairy farms all around the country. And it's all surplus. Basically, they've created a system, now, in which cows lactate all year round (instead of just during calving season, as would be a normal expectation of your average cow body) and they produce about 20 times the milk that cows did 50 years ago... and plain and simple, all the humans in the world do not consume enough milk to keep up with the quantities that the dairies are producing. And so, we send out tax money to pay for the storage of this stuff.. and let's not forget that even powdered milk spoils. And sure, yeah, they ship some of it to other countries as part of assorted relief packages. But, let's also not forget that there aren't that many predominantly white third world countries. So, yeah, essentially, we're sending big pallets of gastrointestinal discomfort in the name of American generosity.
The one thing that I wished they'd talked a little more about is the corporatizing of organic farming. I mean, the big natural food chains like Wild Oats and Whole Foods are primarily supplied by big corporate farms, rather than smaller local operations. And according to my mom, my go-to girl for all things food-related, the Bush administration has taken great strides in lowering the standards for what is considered "organic." So, the jury's still out on whether or not the bigger organic facilities can operate both ethically (in terms of their environmental practices, their animal treatment practices, and their food-handling practices) and cheaply. But the whole thing makes me nervous. Once those sorts of companies get sufficient capital behind them, what's stopping them from bending the rules in favor of making more capital? I just wish Gerstein and McCollum had addressed this issue just a little... but then, the movie could have been 5 hours long and I would have been riveted.
In the end, eating is always going to be a question of values to me. I spend a lot of money on food because I do not want my money, even if it's less of it, to support an industry and companies that operate in opposition to my values. Incidentally, yet another contributor to this movie has a great segment in which she describes the reasons that people are more likely to spend their necessities budget on fancy clothes and houses than on fancy food because the former are visible to others while what we eat is not, in any way, equated with social status. Doesn't that just cut to the quick?
This stuff is so tremendously important to me-- moreso, even, than reaping the health-related benefits of eating primarily organic-- that I get a little hot under the collar when folks tell me that it's a waste. But truly, I think the concept of activistic consumerism is alive and well... and I hope to participate in it as much as I'm able. I'm not really the best audience for this movie because I walked in, already nodding my head in accordance with its sympathies. But I'm really really really hoping that it'll find its way to an audience that can really benefit from the truly fascinating exploration therein... and I hope that they'll also enjoy it for its stylish, funky presentation.
Oh dear god, how my head hurts.
Most of my energy today has gone into food preparation. Really, I haven't been inordinately hungry at all because, although this initial three-day detox consists of eating simple carbs-- i.e., quickly digesting foods-- I've been able to continue feeding myself around the clock. My lunch today consisted of a makeshift guacamole, which I found surprisingly tasty, despite the fact that I couldn't eat it with chips and despite the other fact that I couldn't put salt in it. I also had a sizable bowl of mache with lemon juice and flaxseed oil. So far, this isn't really all that far off from what I usually eat. And then I got a weird afternoon snack of grilled grapefruit with ginger on top (this was a little odd but not too bad). And then for dinner, I made this thing that I thought I was gonna hate-- made from sweet potatoes and acorn squash (I don't like either of these particularly unless I can add a lot of salt to them-- and that's against the rules here) and a turnip (which I didn't have, so I substituted a couple baby Yukon golds). But then I got to load it up with garlic, cayenne, cumin, turmeric, coriander and paprika... and, I swear! I'd eat it even if I weren't on a crazy diet. Hell, I think it's a good option for a the obligatory Thanksgiving sweet potatoes which I resent having to make every year, though, I think I'd add salt if I were going to feed it to anyone else. And then I had another bowl of greens and flaxseed oil.
It's occurred to me as I've been standing in the kitchen all day that I've fallen into some serious single-girl eating habits. I rarely cook anything more often that once a week or so. My evening meal frequently consists of hummus, pitas, a carton of cherry tomatoes and a glass of wine. And the thing is, I eat in front of my computer screen and don't really spend much mental energy on what I'm consuming at all. When I was in my last long-term relationship, I cooked a lot-- and WE cooked a lot. And we grocery shopped together... and I feel like I just thought about food a whole lot more than I have since I moved to DC. It was more than a necessity; it was a part of our little two-person community. I do miss that part of being hooked up, I guess. And truly, food is important to me. More on this later.
Headache:
As I mentioned in my post earlier this morning, I awoke with a slight headache, which I attribute to my caffeine withdrawal. And this headache has swelled and blossomed into a real humdinger throughout the day. At some moments, it feels as though my brain is sloshing about in a bucket of water. It's dizzying and liquidy and thick. And then, at other moments, it's more of a shimmering sort of pain-- pointilistic, almost-- and it feels like it exists in a wide, airy halo OUTSIDE of my skull. It's so big, I swear. I napped briefly this afternoon, hoping to assuage my body's hew and cry for a friggin' cuppa joe... but, when my mom's phone call woke me up, I'm afraid I was barely coherent. And even now, this beast persists.
I had, in fact, been anticipating this headache. A couple of years ago, I found a lump the size of an olive in my right breast. After a visit to the radiologist, it was assessed to be just one of those cysts that a lot of women get, though its size seemed to impress the doctor, especially because I was only 28. The doctor told me that I could shrink the cyst significantly if I cut caffeine out completely. And so, I went through this business back then, too. Slowly, of course, first green tea, then black tea and finally coffee all found their ways back into my grocery cart. And so, here I am, suffering through this swimmy feeling all over again.
It has been suggested to me that perhaps this headache and, also, the rash that's prompted this little experiment, have occurred only because I've anticipated them. But I would venture to say that there's a big difference between hypochondria and being able to recognize the cues that our bodies give us. I mean, pain and physical discomfort have their uses. That's how our bodies tell us when we've done something that they don't like. And in the case of this headache, I know exactly what would make it go away but I'm choosing not to make myself that cup of coffee. And choosing anew with every minute. Ugh. Really, my being able to easily determine and attribute the causes of my weird symptoms-- instead of becoming increasing anxious and frustrated when I can't sleep due to my intensely itchy feet, for example-- is kinda the opposite of hypochondria. There is value to this sort of bodily awareness, I think. At the very least, I can feel proactive towards ridding myself of these annoyances.
Back on task:
So, yes, I've been meditating on food and its relation to self-- my self, in particular-- all day. In my own peculiar world view, food-- even moreso than sex-- is the bottom line for us all. And as such, I've come to see the consumption thereof as a deeply political act. Lucky for me, there are other folks out there with similar ideas...and some of those folks make documentaries! You didn't think I'd stop talking about movies altogether, now, did you?
Probably my favorite film that I saw during the Film Festival was a really-and-truly top-notch documentary called Milk in the Land: Ballad of an American Drink. The two directors, Ariana Gerstein and Monteith McCollum, have gotten a little notoriety in the past for another agricultural documentary called Hybrid, which is, I think, about corn. I don't know if I can get my hands on that film, but I certainly hope to. Part of what's so great about this film is that it's stylistically atypical of documentaries. They use quite a bit of creepy, foggy, time-lapse footage of cows and some other low-fi animation techniques to create an atmosphere that is positively Gothic.
I'm not sure I actually learned much from this film, which is, I suppose, intended to be informative, but I've also previously sought out most of the information conveyed here. The film opens with a guy discussing the ways in which cow's milk is generally detrimental to one's personal constitution-- he talks about all the cancers and diseases and weight problems and phlegm and skin problems and everything else that are more common amongst populations that consume large amounts of dairy. And I've heard these statistics so many times that I'm inclined to think they're true. But the quirky little zealot they have preaching this particular sermon is totally hilarious and really quite convincing. Well, sorta. There's not much that's gonna make me replace the cheese on my pizza with that pasty soycheese nonsense... or cut out icecream permanently.
There's also a lovely little segment in which they discuss the inherent racism in the promotion of milk as an All-American beverage. It's very well-documented that white folks are less likely to be lactose-intolerant than members of any other race on the planet. I, for one, have absolutely no issues digesting dairy. My Asian friend Brian, however, is quite proud of his puking-up-a-milkshake discovery of his intolerance. It's a gross story. Trust me. And I know that the public school system has always provided under-privileged students with free milk-- thus making them both sick and sleepy (sleepiness is a symptom of low-level food intolerance-- this happens to me every time I eat bread. Gluten, you're a bastard!). An interesting tidbit from the movie: in the early parts of the 20th century, most white babies were fed via bottles with these crazy long rubber tubes attached to the nipples. Bacteria would grow in the tubes and the babies would get sick and die... meanwhile, all the black babies, whose parents could afford milk, were breastfed and thusly, lived. Fascinating, eh? It is to me, anyway!
The movie then launches into a long section about organic and natural farming... and the ethics of food consumption. When I tell people that I do most of my shopping at organic grocery stores, they're frequently appalled that I would spend so much on food. Those with families say things like, "well, I have to buy so much for my kids that spending all that money is just a waste." And this sort of comment sickens my heart a little bit. There was one farmer interviewed in this film who relayed a story about a man approaching him at his farmer's market booth. The man asked the farmer how he could have the gall to charge so much for his eggs. The farmer answered, saying that he hoped to one day be able to achieve the same standard of living as his customers. And guys like him are just one of the beneficiaries of supporting sustainable agriculture. I mean, the effluvia that flow from big corporate farms? That stuff is systematically, unaccountably, destroying the ecosystems of their surrounds. And this film goes on to show plenty of creepy giant robots milking cows that see daylight maybe once a week-- if that! And this doesn't begin to address the fact that the hormone additives in all conventionally-produced animal products cause cancer, infertility, zits, and a host of other human ailments.
Oh, and there was also a rather elucidating segment in which the filmmakers explored these caves that were full, floor to ceiling, with bags and bags and bags of powdered milk that the government has bought off of dairy farms all around the country. And it's all surplus. Basically, they've created a system, now, in which cows lactate all year round (instead of just during calving season, as would be a normal expectation of your average cow body) and they produce about 20 times the milk that cows did 50 years ago... and plain and simple, all the humans in the world do not consume enough milk to keep up with the quantities that the dairies are producing. And so, we send out tax money to pay for the storage of this stuff.. and let's not forget that even powdered milk spoils. And sure, yeah, they ship some of it to other countries as part of assorted relief packages. But, let's also not forget that there aren't that many predominantly white third world countries. So, yeah, essentially, we're sending big pallets of gastrointestinal discomfort in the name of American generosity.
The one thing that I wished they'd talked a little more about is the corporatizing of organic farming. I mean, the big natural food chains like Wild Oats and Whole Foods are primarily supplied by big corporate farms, rather than smaller local operations. And according to my mom, my go-to girl for all things food-related, the Bush administration has taken great strides in lowering the standards for what is considered "organic." So, the jury's still out on whether or not the bigger organic facilities can operate both ethically (in terms of their environmental practices, their animal treatment practices, and their food-handling practices) and cheaply. But the whole thing makes me nervous. Once those sorts of companies get sufficient capital behind them, what's stopping them from bending the rules in favor of making more capital? I just wish Gerstein and McCollum had addressed this issue just a little... but then, the movie could have been 5 hours long and I would have been riveted.
In the end, eating is always going to be a question of values to me. I spend a lot of money on food because I do not want my money, even if it's less of it, to support an industry and companies that operate in opposition to my values. Incidentally, yet another contributor to this movie has a great segment in which she describes the reasons that people are more likely to spend their necessities budget on fancy clothes and houses than on fancy food because the former are visible to others while what we eat is not, in any way, equated with social status. Doesn't that just cut to the quick?
This stuff is so tremendously important to me-- moreso, even, than reaping the health-related benefits of eating primarily organic-- that I get a little hot under the collar when folks tell me that it's a waste. But truly, I think the concept of activistic consumerism is alive and well... and I hope to participate in it as much as I'm able. I'm not really the best audience for this movie because I walked in, already nodding my head in accordance with its sympathies. But I'm really really really hoping that it'll find its way to an audience that can really benefit from the truly fascinating exploration therein... and I hope that they'll also enjoy it for its stylish, funky presentation.
Oh dear god, how my head hurts.
Should I be disappointed?
So, not very much happened with my salt water flush except that initially, I felt very thirsty and very bloated... and then I drank more water and got more bloated. And then I got a little crampy sort of stomachache and then I got very very cold. And then, I expelled a very small quantity of matter. So, though I followed the directions to a T, I guess it's possible that I did it wrong? But then maybe because my usual diet is rather fiber-heavy to begin with, maybe there wasn't a whole lot backed up there? Yeah, I dunno.
So, now that I've arisen and begin the first day of eating monastically, I have fed myself a rather chewy smoothie of orange, papaya, coconut and cinnamon. It tasted quite nice but is no substitute for my Misha's Route 66 Dark Roast Blend. I have a little headache and I think I'm psychosomatically hungry. I mean, I rarely eat much of anything beyond coffee until 10 or 11 in the morning (assuming I've arisen around 6), but the idea that I now have to wait a couple of hours until I allow myself a lovely morning snack of 1 apple and 1 pear (both, unfortunately, out of season) incites in me a deep desire to go gorge on cookies.
I will stay strong.
So, now that I've arisen and begin the first day of eating monastically, I have fed myself a rather chewy smoothie of orange, papaya, coconut and cinnamon. It tasted quite nice but is no substitute for my Misha's Route 66 Dark Roast Blend. I have a little headache and I think I'm psychosomatically hungry. I mean, I rarely eat much of anything beyond coffee until 10 or 11 in the morning (assuming I've arisen around 6), but the idea that I now have to wait a couple of hours until I allow myself a lovely morning snack of 1 apple and 1 pear (both, unfortunately, out of season) incites in me a deep desire to go gorge on cookies.
I will stay strong.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Much prodding of beach rubble to come
The above title is a reference to one of Sappho's fragments that my friend Frances often quotes. I think the most common translation is something like "Those who are squeamish should not prod the beach rubble." I begin this post, which is likely to lead into a little bit of an intermission between movie posts, in such a way because I am about to begin a detox, followed by a little fast. I do not have plans to do as my friend Jason did and post pictures of the contents of my toilet as I navigate this little project (if anyone really wants to know, I think they're still out there. I can supply the link), but let this serve as fair warning that I do intend to document my progress here... and it may get a little ooky now and again.
I'm doing this because last week, I had yet another one of my recurrent bladder infections. From what I gather, yeah, sure, plenty of girls get these... but I'm telling you! They're really the total opposite of fun. Well, once my usual spasms had progressed to the point where I was peeing pink-- and staying up all night, thinking that reading my friend Jennifer's memoir manuscript-- which is a remarkable onomatopoeic screech of gorgeous writing -- was just about the only thing exciting enough to distract me from the needles in my urinary tract--I figured I'd better succumb and go on an antibiotic. Usually, my body hates foreign chemicals and rebels in all sorts of interesting ways. But this time, I'd made it all the way through my round of pills... and even several more days... but then, yesterday, I awoke to a sensation something akin to spiders crawling around my kneepits. But though I was itchy throughout the day, yesterday was manageable. Today, however, I think I would enjoy ripping the skin right off the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet very very much. And same goes for any place covered with hair. No, I'm not kidding. And no, I don't have crabs ( I did actually check... prior to reminding myself just exactly how unlikely that particular diagnosis is). But, yeah, so, I've got yet another creeping rash... and so, my solution is to smoke out as many nasty synthetic compounds from my body as possible... via my very own amalgam of detoxes and fasts.
My first step-- which will commence upon completion of this post-- will be to guzzle a quart of salt water. Everyone I know says that you really kinda have to be sitting on the pot to do this step because it acts pretty darn fast. I'm a little scared about this part. I don't like peein' out my butt. Really, I don't. And don't you worry. I'll let you know EXACTLY how it goes.
My next step will be to eat three days worth of weird mixtures of vegetables, for which I just went and spent $100 at Whole Foods. My poor checkout girl was slightly flummoxed when I arrived with pretty much one of everything from the entire produce section. The bad part about this step is that I have to eat healthy grains like millet and quinoa, for which I do not particularly care. The good part is that I get to eat a LOT of tomatoes. OK, really? I eat a crazy amount of tomatoes anyway. Pretty much every night, I eat about a pint of cherry tomatoes for dinner. Just because I love them so.
The step after that will be to repeat the unpleasant salt water flushing business.
And then I'll begin my fast in earnest. I hoping to be able to pull it out for at least 5 days. All I get to eat is this concoction made from water, lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper (that may sound distasteful to some of you, but I enjoy all the ingredients, so I'm hoping for the best). And I also get as much, uh, water (!) as I want!!! The guide to this fast says that I should do it for a minimum of 10 days... and if I really wanted to, I could go for 40 days drinking nothing but that weird lemonade stuff. That seems just a touch ambitious for a hedonist such as myself but we'll see how I feel 5 days in.
So, needless to say, the stuff that's really off my list right now includes caffeine, alcohol, meat, dairy, sugar and wheat. At least, those are the main things. I'm thinking I'll probably have a little caffeine withdrawal headache for the first couple of days... and shortly after that, I'll do that food obsessing thing that happens when you're just so friggin' hungry... but then, all the literature says that that fades and that you start to feel quite normal. I'm hoping to not encounter too many of the odors that the body is supposed to emit while ridding itself of the assorted venoms of the typical American diet (I self-flatteringly assume that my normal diet isn't all that typically American, seeing as it's so heavily weighted with tomatoes and greens and other fruit, but I do keep a pint of icecream in the freezer and I do put heavy cream in my chicory/coffee every morning, so I'm no food-saint). But I'm really really really hoping that I can get a little respite from the spare tire that seemed to show up long about the time I turned 24.. and hasn't loosened one iota since, regardless of strenuousness and frequency of my yoga practice. Oh, spare tire, how I hate you. How eagerly I anticipate your departure.
And now I commence. I may or may not spare you the details.
I'm doing this because last week, I had yet another one of my recurrent bladder infections. From what I gather, yeah, sure, plenty of girls get these... but I'm telling you! They're really the total opposite of fun. Well, once my usual spasms had progressed to the point where I was peeing pink-- and staying up all night, thinking that reading my friend Jennifer's memoir manuscript-- which is a remarkable onomatopoeic screech of gorgeous writing -- was just about the only thing exciting enough to distract me from the needles in my urinary tract--I figured I'd better succumb and go on an antibiotic. Usually, my body hates foreign chemicals and rebels in all sorts of interesting ways. But this time, I'd made it all the way through my round of pills... and even several more days... but then, yesterday, I awoke to a sensation something akin to spiders crawling around my kneepits. But though I was itchy throughout the day, yesterday was manageable. Today, however, I think I would enjoy ripping the skin right off the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet very very much. And same goes for any place covered with hair. No, I'm not kidding. And no, I don't have crabs ( I did actually check... prior to reminding myself just exactly how unlikely that particular diagnosis is). But, yeah, so, I've got yet another creeping rash... and so, my solution is to smoke out as many nasty synthetic compounds from my body as possible... via my very own amalgam of detoxes and fasts.
My first step-- which will commence upon completion of this post-- will be to guzzle a quart of salt water. Everyone I know says that you really kinda have to be sitting on the pot to do this step because it acts pretty darn fast. I'm a little scared about this part. I don't like peein' out my butt. Really, I don't. And don't you worry. I'll let you know EXACTLY how it goes.
My next step will be to eat three days worth of weird mixtures of vegetables, for which I just went and spent $100 at Whole Foods. My poor checkout girl was slightly flummoxed when I arrived with pretty much one of everything from the entire produce section. The bad part about this step is that I have to eat healthy grains like millet and quinoa, for which I do not particularly care. The good part is that I get to eat a LOT of tomatoes. OK, really? I eat a crazy amount of tomatoes anyway. Pretty much every night, I eat about a pint of cherry tomatoes for dinner. Just because I love them so.
The step after that will be to repeat the unpleasant salt water flushing business.
And then I'll begin my fast in earnest. I hoping to be able to pull it out for at least 5 days. All I get to eat is this concoction made from water, lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper (that may sound distasteful to some of you, but I enjoy all the ingredients, so I'm hoping for the best). And I also get as much, uh, water (!) as I want!!! The guide to this fast says that I should do it for a minimum of 10 days... and if I really wanted to, I could go for 40 days drinking nothing but that weird lemonade stuff. That seems just a touch ambitious for a hedonist such as myself but we'll see how I feel 5 days in.
So, needless to say, the stuff that's really off my list right now includes caffeine, alcohol, meat, dairy, sugar and wheat. At least, those are the main things. I'm thinking I'll probably have a little caffeine withdrawal headache for the first couple of days... and shortly after that, I'll do that food obsessing thing that happens when you're just so friggin' hungry... but then, all the literature says that that fades and that you start to feel quite normal. I'm hoping to not encounter too many of the odors that the body is supposed to emit while ridding itself of the assorted venoms of the typical American diet (I self-flatteringly assume that my normal diet isn't all that typically American, seeing as it's so heavily weighted with tomatoes and greens and other fruit, but I do keep a pint of icecream in the freezer and I do put heavy cream in my chicory/coffee every morning, so I'm no food-saint). But I'm really really really hoping that I can get a little respite from the spare tire that seemed to show up long about the time I turned 24.. and hasn't loosened one iota since, regardless of strenuousness and frequency of my yoga practice. Oh, spare tire, how I hate you. How eagerly I anticipate your departure.
And now I commence. I may or may not spare you the details.
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