I've seen food from both sides now

Okay, bear with me, this is sort of a pregnancy post. Sorry. But not really. This is actually about how this alien parasite has enabled me to see something from the other side. And it's fascinating. (To me.) So I'm going to tell you all about it. Read it, don't read it...

You may recall my little fattypuffs vs thinifers rant. A precis: I believe that chubsters have a fundamentally different experience of food to skinnies, and as a result skinnies are incapable of understanding why it is that we should have such trouble dieting, etc. Now I believe I have Incontrovertible Proof! that it is so. Because the alien parasite is making me, temporarily and sadly invisibly, a thinifer.

It's like this. Hormones, not-just-morning sickness, yada yada - I will try not to bore you with too many details, but you see, I've lost my appetite. That's only partly because of the nausea; some of the time, like most of today, I don't actually feel sick. But I still don't want to eat. It's not just that I'm not hungry; something has switched off. Food has lost the fun factor. And no, it doesn't taste different. (Apparently for lots of pregnant women, tastes do change, but so far, not for me.) Everything still tastes fine, I am capable of thinking in a detached sort of way that something tastes good and is quite enjoyable... but something is missing. Look, consider this: I don't want chocolate. Do you begin to comprehend the vastness of this change? Yesterday I found myself thinking I wanted a chocolate, while at the same time I was perfectly aware that I didn't really, I wouldn't enjoy it if I had one. What I wanted was the satisfaction which I normally get from chocolate, but which is now gone. (Try to imagine the horror.)

And that's what got me thinking. I suspect, for thinifers... every day is like this. Less extreme, because of the total lack of nausea and the presence of hunger, but with that same disconnect between food-as-fuel and food-as-fun. If this were my normal state, I too would hotly deny any accusations that I "just don't understand", because after all, I still have tastebuds! Mmmm, yummy pizza! I get that - but I can stop! Why would you want another piece when you're not hungry any more?

It really is completely different, and it really must be a body chemistry thing. Living like this, you would eat when you're hungry (and mildly enjoy it); you would even sometimes eat when you're not really hungry, on social occasions, or because chocolates really are delicious. But you wouldn't experience the desire to do that very often, because frankly, putting food in your mouth when you don't want it is pretty damn repellent.*

Like this, food is like taking a shower. You need it regularly, and yes, it's really enjoyable, and sometimes you might indulge in an extra-long shower just because it feels so nice; but nobody was ever in danger of overshowering.

The way I used to be - and hope I will be again - food is much more like sex. Not literally. I don't gasp and moan over chocolate brownies (well, not often). But it definitely pushes some or other pleasure buttons in the limbic centre that right now are out of reach. It satisfies something that has nothing to do with hunger, and frankly, although it makes me happy, in itself it has nothing to do with psychological comfort seeking either.

Fattypuffs get pleasure out of food. Thinifers merely get enjoyment. It's a physical difference, and you know? Now I really feel sorry for thinifers. Because they're missing so much.

PS With this in mind - I've just stumbled across the Shangri La Diet, and putting aside for now (PLEASE) all questions of whether or not it works, is healthy, etc, the question is: would I want it to work? It sounds an awful lot like it might just have the same effect as what I've described above - not so much reducing appetite, as taking away that pleasure response. Would I want to be naturally thin and healthy and still enjoy food... but not enjoy it the way I am used to? I honestly can't say.

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* Nature has a mean sense of humour. The best way to stave off all-day sickness is to snack constantly. The last thing you want to do.

The joy of self-deception

Hurrah! It's New Year! My favourite time of year. I get to drink champagne and kid myself that I can do better. Cheers!

So in recent years I have experimented with Non-Resolution Resolutions. I have been all about "goal setting" and such. Last year, you may recollect, I decided that it could all be wrapped up in the simple mission statement: Get My Shit Together. Well, there's really only one word for my progress on that front.

But I'm a lady and I don't use words like that.

Taking kadekraan's advice, therefore, for 2008 I am subdividing my main goal ("Get My Shit Together") into smaller goals. ("Get My Shit Together Just a Little Bit", "Get My Shit Together a Bit More", "Get My Shit Together I Really Mean It This Time" and so on. Thanks for that, k. Very helpful.) As it happens, the result looks surprisingly like traditional resolutions: Get Healthy. Manage Stress. Do More Stuff.

Manage Stress and Get Healthy are quite closely interlinked; really I'd be hard pressed to say where one ends and the other begins, especially as I have vowed to never again make any stupid commitments like "get skinny". Instead, I have a selection of Noble Principles I shall be experimenting with, which I believe have the potential to Make Me Well, and also Happy. For instance:

Breakfast. It might not be the enemy after all.
Consider the possibility of actually consuming all the produce that arrives in your weekly organic box, rather than simply photographing it for supposedly humorous blogging purposes.*
Toast with humus: not actually bad for you, but not recommended for every meal.

I have my doubts about all of the above, but we'll give this whole Breakfast and Vitamins thing a fair chance.

Happy new arbitrary calendar demarcation! Huzzah!

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* We had the world's longest parsnip this week. Glad you were spared?

On greed

When I left SA, I offloaded most of my worldly goods. This included a large number of books, many of which I'd never quite gotten round to reading, and some yarn, and even a bunch of fabric and sewing supplies. Which is sort of funny, since I hate sewing. So I came to the UK fairly unburdened with possessions, and while I did (and do) suffer the occasional twinge of regret for something I once had and loved (or, um, thought I might love if I ever got round to reading it), by and large I liked this state of affairs.

This state of affairs has changed.

By now, I have acquired Some Books. I have in fact acquired enough books that I keep having to buy new bookcases. I have two shelves packed quite tight with books that I have not yet gotten round to reading. Some of these books were picked up almost at random for free, from work, which is sort of better (hey, no one else wanted them...) and sort of worse (I didn't need them, I wouldn't have bought them, yet I felt the need to take them home?). I have run out of space on my CD shelf quite a while ago. I have acquired enough yarn to keep me knitting for five to six years, I estimate, and that's after having offloaded a large quantity of it a couple of years ago. (I'm resisting the fabric, though, you'll be delighted to hear.)

I've written elsewhere about my ambivalence on the whole yarn stash issue, and let me just say very clearly that I do NOT feel bad about acquiring beautiful things that inspire me to make beautiful things. My yarn brings me joy, as do my books. Most of my stash at the moment is hand-dyed, so each purchase is a little connection between me and someone who is making a living by working with fibre, and I love that, I love that I am helping someone to support themselves with their hobby. I don't feel that anything I buy is redirecting needed resources away from people in need; resources don't really work like that. (Do I think, "hey, shall I give to charity or buy this yarn? Mmmm... yarn wins!" No. I do both.) I don't believe that acquiring "frivolous" things is a bad idea, necessarily, and for that matter I don't see my knitting habit as remotely frivolous. It's a creative pursuit, it fulfils me in ways I'm frankly embarrassed to talk about, it's really important to me. (Stop laughing, you at the back.) And I'm glad to have a stash of gorgeous materials at hand to inspire me. And I'm glad to have a collection of books that I love. And so on.

But it must be admitted... I do have enough. More than enough. And as much as I keep seeing more wonderful things out there that trigger my base acquisitive instincts... I don't need them. It's debatable how much I want them, given my fondness for decluttering.

So I'm posting this for two reasons. (Well, three; one of them is that it's 5am and I can't sleep. Possibly at 5pm this wouldn't seem such a hot topic.)

One, to remind myself in detail that I Have Enough. It's a good thing to remember.

And two, to add my voice to the growing multitude of gift-opter-outers. I love you all. I love giving gifts. But right now... I'm in a slightly financially tenuous position. I don't have time to go shopping. And I'm seriously lacking in the general sense of wanting to circulate more Stuff. I don't need or want anything; I can't think of anything that you need or want (that I'm in a position to give, anyway). I'd really like to celebrate the festive season with great company, a filthy amount of food, and as little Stuff as possible. And then when your birthday comes around, or when I see something that tells me it should be yours, I shall take great delight in giving you - or even making you - something special.

But the random gift exchange right now? I'm not feeling it. Let's not.

...

It occurs to me that all of this could sound pretty damn insulting to my friends. Like: "hey, I don't want anything, so clearly you don't either. And anyway I just can't be bothered to make the time to choose you a gift, because I'm, like, sooo busy and important." I hope you know that it's not like that. Right?

Oh dear ... I wonder if I'm going to come back and delete this in the morning. Or wish I had.

...

Edit: Well, extemp commented before I had a chance to delete, so that was that decision taken care of. But in light of, um, umbrage taken (quite reasonably and nicely) elsewhere, I'd like to clarify/amend as follows:

I love getting gifts. And if you have something you'd really like to give me, I will be sincerely delighted to receive it. It's also entirely possible that I'll give one or two gifts myself, out of sheer spontaneous wossname. (The likelihood of this happening to you is directly proportional to your interest in knitting.) But I am not planning to give gifts, nor expecting to receive any. I really don't want to come over all Scrooge, because I love the whole gifting tradition. It's just all a bit complicated right now, and I was hoping to simplify. Not sure I achieved that.

In fact now I think I just sound a bit greedy. (Oh, I'll take all right...)

Gosh. This whole clarification/amendment thing could go on for some time.

Edit 2: I take it back (partly): I really do want a Kissmoose present. I want for someone to crack my dvd player for me. So that I can get the later Gilmore Girls seasons on DVD and FINALLY know what happens after Rory drops out of Yale.

Things I didn't say

"In the absence of blogging I have no idea of what's happening in your life."

Well, see, you do. What was happening last time I saw you? I was working a lot. What has my blog been - boringly, repeatedly - complaining about? Working a lot. What is my usual excuse for not blogging? I'm working a lot.

I say this without intended sarcasm or rancour. That's how it is. I'm working. And not on anything that gives me fodder for sparkling conversation or, indeed, blogging. Sorry.

"I feel like we're back at university - I mean, you're still wearing teal! You look just the same!"

I really hate being told I look just the same as I did 10 years ago. It's true, of course (at least if you ignore the inevitable wrinkling, sagging, expanding). I have occasionally cut my hair a bit shorter or coloured it a bit darker or redder, but I always default to the same basic, vaguely oldfashioned look. My clothes are a bit less exotic than they used to be, and a bit less battered and holey, but tend to follow the same silhouette and colours. So I can't complain about being told I look just the same - hey, if I want an image update, that's easy enough to do; but I don't actually want it.

Still, I hate the idea that I haven't progressed. It's been 10 years. That should be enough time to have completely reinvented myself. Yet I'm still just the same, only with less free time, and less conversation.

I feel boring. Really, really, really boring. I like to say I'm in touch with my inner granny, and it's true; I did after all spend most of high school knitting. (I'd like to point out that these days there are plenty of teenagers who knit *and* have a social life, but that wasn't really an option for me, for reasons I won't bore you with.) But I'm not always happy about my basic old-lady-hood. Increasingly I have nothing to say to my friends. All these lovely people, whom I've known for years, who are smart and funny and lively... and with whom I suddenly don't seem to have much in common.

Socialising has become hard work. The London factor (distance and public transport) doesn't help. I hardly ever see most of my friends; but there is another group of people I see a lot more regularly. Some of whom are clearly becoming my new friends. The knitters. There's a huge number of knitting groups around town, and I occasionally manage to make the effort to join some of them. At first I told myself that I was more motivated to join the knitters because I could chalk it up as almost work - it's a networking opportunity, it's market research. Which is true. Then I realised that there's more than that; knitting restores my energy, whereas socialising per se often depletes it. And just this week I realised there's another reason too: among these people, I don't feel boring. I can share the knitting stuff that's taking up so much of my headspace; I don't need anything else. It's enough. It's okay.

The same sort of thing is happening with blogging. I'm struggling to find time for the knitting blog too, but it's a bit more active than this one. Maybe not that much more, but some. Sorry, folks. But look on the bright side. At least I'm not boring you...

PS. It's extremely likely that this feeling explains my unnatural excitement when anyone I know expresses an interest in learning The Knit. Be warned: if you so much as hint at "maybe I'd not hate trying to make a scarf", I go into full pusher mode.

PPS. I am distressed to find out how many tags I already have to suit this post. Sulks, whines and boring! And I haven't even been using tags that long! See? I really have gotten dull.