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Gay Panda read an interesting question in another thread asking if you could accept your body overweight. That question has been fermenting in the bamboo-knuckled lobes of this panda’s brain. The answer is no, but being of INTJ persuasion, why is the follow-up question.
I was not a fat young cub, nor was I a thin one. In a salute to the average, as I scored in most arenas to Mother Panda’s disappointment, I sat my tender rear square in the middle of the weight charts. Reaching a height of 5’9”, my weight traveled about between 137-145 through high school and early college. This self-image of how my body is supposed to be is branded into my mind. I was muscular and swam butterfly, and coaches learned not to let me pinch-hit backstroke in swim meet emergencies as severe myopia, sparkle distraction, and a lack of direction invariably ended with me crashing into A: the lane line, B: the wall, or C: another swimmer.
And then, midway through college, I went on antidepressants. The day I swallowed my first pill, I was 137 pounds. Six months later, I was 207, and continued to balloon ever upwards. Doctors denied that the pills could possibly be related to this sudden, shocking weight gain, and I believed them. Finally, I stopped believing, and stopped cold turkey without telling them, as you are never supposed to do.
Gay Panda would rather be depressed than obese, and since being obese leads to Gay Panda being depressed, taking these pills creates a vicious circle in which to fruitlessly spin. Gay Panda would rather have OCD than collect sweat in folds, and deal with obsessive Germ Thoughts and compulsive stove checking when it hasn’t been used all day. Gay Panda would rather have social anxiety, or whatever the psychiatric term is for very shy, than return to the store every few months to buy bigger jeans. The depression is manageable, the OCD is a mildly annoying childhood friend one wants to shake but can’t, and the social anxiety is high. But it beats the alternative.
I resist accepting this weight because I am not supposed to be like this. I was a healthy young panda in college with personality quirks and family stresses, and drugs were not the answer. But they were pushed on me relentlessly as the solution to all my woes, and I caved. The drugs turned me into a fat zombie panda, and there is nothing fabulous about that. I doubt that my body will ever return to 137, and it seems an unreasonable goal considering all the years that have passed. So I will not torment myself trying to achieve what was lost long ago. I would like to be in the mid-160s, the upper range for my height, and the rest is a lesson learned.
Gay Panda was raised to Always Be Nice, no matter WHAT someone else is doing. But when someone is hurling poo, I think we have found an exception to the rule. Thank Valhalla for Lady Friend, who has a sharp tongue and no patience for this sort of behavior, and is the reason I will have movies this weekend.
If it makes Gay Panda feel any better, I was in the exact same boat with antidepressants and weight gain a few years ago and came to the same conclusion. I went off them and sort of muddled along on the grumpy side of life until I kicked the grain and sugar habit for good last March. Everyone close to me has spontaneously commented on how upbeat I am now. It's true! My overall mood is significantly better now. I suspect in my case it was the sugar that was messing with my brain but I'm not looking this particular gift horse in the mouth too closely.
I sincerely hope you have the same results from your change in diet.
2011 - The year I went Primal
Start weight: 198 / Waist: 32"
CW: 158.5 / Waist: 28"
Supplements: Calcium and O-3 in AM. Natural Calm, Valerian Root Extract and sublingual Melatonin in PM (for lifelong chronic insomnia).
That does make Gay Panda feel better, MetalBeth! I wish I could mail my neighbor Poo Hurler to the doctors who said my weight gain had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with antidepressants. Lady Friend has commented since I went primal that my moods are more even. The OCD continues unabated, but my particular obsessions/compulsions are simply so stupid and implausible that sometimes I can beat them. Hooray for uplifted spirits!
Germs. Quivering, Gay Panda reads in MDA that dirt has been declared safe. My OCD revolves around three matters. The first is that whenever I leave the house, I fear that I’ve forgotten a lit candle or left the stove on, or an outlet is starting to spark, which will lead to a fire that will burn down the house and kill the kitty and destroy my beloved laptop, which is slightly dearer to heart than the kitty.
The second is that I have forgotten to lock the door, and someone will break into the house and steal my laptop and prance about in my snazzy purple clogs on the hardwood floors, and do dastardly things to the kitty, who is simply so dumb that she would look up to a panty-hose masked stranger with a pipe wrench and think he was there to feed her bacon.
The third obsession is germs. Once a week, after checking the outlets and stove and making sure no candles have magically lit themselves, I turn the doorknob five times to make that it’s locked and get in my car to zoom past Poo Hurler’s house for Whole Foods. I am not one of those people who uses anti-bacterial wipes on their shopping carts. When I see people wiping down their carts, I assume they have OCD and I pity them for being at the mercy of their mental illness. I clamp down my hands on the dirty bar and stride past them into the store thankful that the doors are automatic.
When Lady Friend is feeling bitchy, she opens non-automatic doors for Gay Panda and then runs her hand down Gay Panda’s arm.
If you saw me in the store, you’d think I was normal. Really, I’m obsessing about swine flu. A ridiculous fear, but I smile tightly to Flirty Deli Lady and order as my hands become saturated with the germs hopping about the shopping cart bar. When I can take no more, I pull down my sleeves so that I do not have to touch the bar, and then I realize I have transferred swine flu to my clothes.
By the time I get home, I am crawling with imaginary swine flu, and I hear tiny oinks. I am desperate to strip out of my clothes and get to the sink to wash off the filth, and will let groceries melt on the counter while I decontaminate. I refuse to use anti-bacterial soap, since only people neurotic about germs use those, but regular. Yes, I am aware that this is insane. Yes, I’ll be doing this again today.
So in this way, I fail at primal. If you ever see a 5’9” blue-eyed blonde in snazzy purple clogs dithering by a door at an Ancestral Health Symposium or Paleo Convention, and since you are polite you open the door, you will be bewildered to receive gratitude far out of proportion to the favor, because Gay Panda has again successfully dodged an imaginary bullet, and has you to thank.
I say, if you find it manageable, don't worry about it. Perhaps with the mood improvements, you will be able to tackle the OCD tendencies? Time will tell!
I am also a sufferer of depression and anxiety. I am in the process of decreasing my dosage of Lexapro because I have once again decided that I do not want to be dependent on a pill, but this time, I feel like my head is in a good place to risk doing this. After nearly 2 months of probably adhering to primal eating at least 80% of the time, my moods seem a lot more stable. Even when I get very upset (angry or sad), it's easier to get out of the mood, or "brush it off" than it used to be.
I realized yesterday as I spoke all friendly-like with a co-worker that they don't hate me, in fact, they're quite nice and they seem to have a genuine care and interest for my well-being! It was only slightly painful to realize that *I* was the one with the social issues, not them.
I highly recommend 5-HTP for anxiety and panic attacks. I had a sudden onset of this in a debilitating way with menopause - a couple hours after taking my first dose of 100mg, the underlying anxiety went away! I felt calm and able to cope with the slings and arrows of life again.
i'm also a germophobe, but it's lessened the last few years along with my ocd
my 'tiny oinks' are syphillis on other peoples hands :| that gem is from a sexual health course during a college class. it was terrible. i don't always wash my hands immediately after i walk in the door these days, but they still feel very dirty until i do
i'm just going to cut the dirt corner with probiotics, everything poos outside
yeah you are
Baby if you time travel back far enough you can avoid that work because the dust won't be there. You're too pretty to be working that hard.
Gay Panda just squealed in horror at the until-now unsuspected danger of syphilis on other people's hands. While my level of OCD hasn't changed with primal, it is thankfully lessening with age. As a cub I was tortured by it, as a young adult bothered by it, and as an adult only pestered by it. Because it is so utterly, totally, and completely dumb, I can find the funny in it a lot more often.