What is a "Real Woman", Really?
This afternoon, The Huffington Post angered a number of fans on its Facebook page when it posted the following:
The commentary contained a link to this article, which showcased a slideshow of real Huffington Post readers in bikinis. The angry commenters' problem was that they believed HuffPost's characterization of the women in the slideshow as "real women" was a statement that the only real women are women with curves and bigger bodies and that "thin, healthy women" are not in fact "real." However, this wasn't the commenters' real problem. Their actual problem is two-fold: (1) a lack of reading comprehension [actually, a lack of reading, PERIOD, as they clearly did not read the article], and (2) a failed logic whereby they think thin automatically means healthy and thick automatically means unhealthy.
Not reading the article is really a sad problem, considering it is only two paragraphs long. The article makes it very clear that HuffPost sought after photographs of real women in order to combat the extremely airbrushed images that assault us from magazine aisles, along with the notion that the only way a woman should ever don a bikini is after she's lost 40 pounds. The article plainly says, "We happen to believe that if you're physically able to put on a bathing suit, you're bikini-ready." It also plainly states that it wanted the pictures it received to be "unstarved and unairbrushed." "Unstarved" doesn't mean, "zaftig only." Plenty of women are unstarved and thin, just as there are many women who are starved and thick [more on that point later]. The key here, though, is unairbrushed.
Anyone who clicked through the ten-picture slideshow would easily see that the women included in the slideshow came in all sizes. There are plump women and thin women. There are tall women and short women. You know what kind of women you won't find in those ten pictures, though? Airbrushed and Photoshopped women. Not one of those women has had dimples, cellulite, moles, birthmarks, or discolorations removed. Not one has had her lines smoothed and/or her body liquified [the Photoshop editing job of making someone skinny] to three times smaller than her actual size. These women, thin and thick alike, are "real" because they look the way any woman would look on the street. And if you think Kate Beckinsale or Snooki looks anything in person like what you see on the cover of a magazine teaching you how to look just like her [but ignoring the main tip of, "and then Photoshop yourself"], then you are exactly the type of gullible person to which these articles are marketed.
Now let's get to the second problem, the idea that thin means healthy and thick means unhealthy. BEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!! WRONG!
Look, I don't dispute that someone who is morbidly obese is probably unhealthy. When Ruby Gettinger weighed more than 400 pounds, she was undoubtedly, not healthy. But where people often go wrong is when they make the automatic assumption that someone who is thin, whether naturally thin or not, is healthy and that someone who is overweight (not obese, but just outside the realm of their ideal weight) is unhealthy. There have been several studies that disprove this theory. What you see on the outside doesn't necessarily indicate a person's eating habits or exercise levels. Yes, people who eat right and exercise and stay or maintain a thin weight as a result of their healthy habits should be applauded for their discipline. Where we get off the rails, however, is when we assume that because someone looks "good" on the outside, this matches what is happening on the inside.
This is what is so wrong with a thin-obsessed culture. The emphasis should never be on "thin," it should always be on "healthy." If "thin" is a level you achieve when you become "healthy," then great. But there are far too many people, women especially, who develop very unhealthy habits (anorexia and bulimia being only two of these) in pursuit of "thin." However, society is much better off when people are eating well and exercising--regardless of what size or forms their bodies take as a result of this healthy living.
Here's my "real" time....
I have been my current height (5'7") since I was 13 or 14 years old. Including pregnancy, at this height, I have been every weight from 80 pounds to 200 pounds. I was not starving when I was 80 pounds; it was the result of my natural metabolism, inherited from both parents. My parents should have been my cautionary tale. I should have known that my metabolism wouldn't last forever. But because of partly acting out because of all the hurt I experienced when I was younger, when my peers had no problem making fun of my weight ["toothpick," "anorexic," "Olive Oyl" -- I've heard it all] and largely having formed awful habits as the result of having no visual consequences to my lifestyle, I formed awful habits. By high school, I had actually started lifting weights, because I had read in magazines that doing so would help me gain weight. I was also eating ten times a day in an effort to gain weight--mostly junk food, fast food, and anything I could get out of a vending machine. I never did any real cardio until law school, because I found it "boring" and "I didn't need it." In fact, the only time I did cardio even in law school was during dance practice or when I decided to walk 20 blocks to go shopping (or, more likely, to a bar) because I couldn't afford a cab and didn't want to take the subway. Despite eating Taco Bell and other awful takeout nearly every day for lunch and dinner, my weight never went over 120 pounds until long after graduation, when I went on a medication that had the side effect of making me gain a ton of weight quickly. I didn't just gain weight, I got "puffy." To combat that weight gain, I basically tried to starve myself back into my size 0 clothes. I rarely ate breakfast and lunch. For dinner, whether or not I ate something healthy depended on my mood. But, hey, whatever worked to keep me within or under my "ideal weight" and BMI, right?
Wrong. Everything about my old lifestyle was wrong. And it wasn't until a few months before Pop Culture Dad and I got engaged--when I got a personal trainer who knocked some sense into me--that I realized how wrong my previous lifestyle was, regardless of how good I looked on the outside.
Am I a picture of perfect health today? No. But, sadly, I am much healthier now, in my greater attempts to eat home-cooked meals more often, to buy organic fruits and vegetables (and even starting to grow my own), and in trying to incorporate more physical activity (even if it isn't always "exercise") than I was when I was back in my "hot" days in my early and mid-20s. Am I as healthy as I could be? Absolutely not. But I'm working on it. Although I would ultimately like to lose some weight and trim down from the healthy changes I continue to make to my lifestyle, in the end all that will really matter is that I have improved my quality (and length) of life by making these healthy changes. I will also have given my daughters the benefit of hopefully long and healthy lives by not teaching them--as I sadly had learned--that it doesn't matter what they eat right now, because they have the metabolism that I used to have, and they can basically gorge themselves on anything and everything without consequence until they turn 25. That was a bad lesson to learn, and it has been a hard habit to break.
In any event, I will continue to be a "real" woman. I'm not going to Photoshop my imperfections before posting pictures to Facebook out of fear that people will judge me if I don't look "perfect" and skinny. If I ever again achieve what I believe to be my ideal body [not weight; weight tells you nothing] again, I will still be a "real" woman, because I will remain unairbrushed and true to myself.
(L) High school and (R) law school. "Real" and unairbrushed, but an unhealthy version of skinny.
Pop Culture Dad and I at our healthiest--on our honeymoon in 2008, eating well and being active (although 50 pounds heavier than I was in high school/college and 20-30 pounds heavier than my heaviest law school weight -- both times living off fast food). Unstarved and unairbrushed.
Me today. I'm still "real" and unairbrushed. Still not as healthy as I could be and have been, but 100x healthier than my college and law school skinny days (and noneyabiz how much heavier).
Managing Gestational Diabetes: Day One
Those of you who know me or who can decipher my cryptic Tweets already know this, but to catch up the rest of you: I failed my three-hour glucose tolerance test.
This actually wasn't a surprise. My mom and at least two (of her six) sisters are diabetic. After my well-woman exam a year or so ago, I was told when my blood work came back that I was pre-diabetic. Non-pregnant pre-diabetic numbers pretty much mirror pregnant diabetic numbers.
I think I was lulled into a false sense of security when my early one-hour glucose test (at 12 weeks) came back hypoglycemic. This time, however, the results were not. My blood sugar was 166. Their threshold is 135. I was convinced I had just miscalculated my breakfast — after all, a Jack-in-the-Box taco seemed like a good idea to outsmart the test at the time. But how much sugar is in that salsa, anyway? And was it really smart to eat in the parking garage before walking into my appointment?
So shortly before my three-hour glucose trust, I decided to start monitoring my blood sugar in the morning. The results were not good. The day before the test, my fasting blood sugar was 110. The morning of, it was 98. The number to pass is 95.
Defeated, I walked into my midwives' office — 12 hours starved and dehydrated — on a mission. I already knew I had GD. So I just had to show them my glucose monitor, go meet with some counselors, and then I could eat, right? Wrong.
First, I ended up stuck in the waiting room for over an hour. By hour 13 of no food or drink, I became a hormonal, depressed, sobbing mess. By the time the nurse called me back, my eyes were already blood shot and puffy, and I was sob-heaving like Pop Culture Toddler. I told her that my fasting that morning was over their threshold for GD, that I was hungry, dehydrated and dizzy, and that I just wanted them to declare me GD so I could go meet with a counselor and get something to eat and drink. The nurse went to talk with the midwives and left me in my waiting room.
Some time later, one of my midwives, Debbie, came in to talk to me. We talked for over an hour [14 hours, no food or drink]. The end result of all this hysterical (on my part) chatter was that even with the numbers from my trusty glucose monitor, they had to run official tests or (1) the counselors wouldn't talk to me, and (2) my insurance company would likely not reimburse a thing. Debbie was pretty sure based on my home test that I was going to fail, but it had to be done. The end result was that Debbie would allow me to stay in the exam room for my full test, and a woman from the lab would come to do my blood draws. It was a good thing they let me stay in the room, too. An hour or so [15 hours sans food or real drink] after I drank thetorture device glucose drink, I threw up a little. Two hours in, standing or sitting up made me dizzy. In fact, when I walked out, I saw another poor preggo in the lobby who was taking her three-hour glucose test. She was passed out on the floor, and the staff was trying to get her into a wheel chair. Someone explain to me why they haven't invented a better way to test for Gestational Diabetes?
The day continued to get worse, but I'll spare you those details. I'll leave it at the fact that I felt pretty defeated (as well as dizzy, hungry and just generally discombobulated) for days after the test. Then Tuesday I got the dreaded call from Debbie: "Well.... You were right. You failed. Sorry." I was led to believe I had greatly flunked the test. Now I just had to wait for the diabetic counselors to call me.
Being the nerd I am, I immediately started searching Amazon for the highest rated gestational diabetes books available on Kindle. I downloaded a cookbook and another general book.
Today was my first meeting with my diabetic counselors. I was terrified. Turns out I didn't need to be.
But, first, let's discuss breakfast. The diabetic cookbook I downloaded contained a recipe for "buttermilk pancakes." Unlike any pancakes I'm used to, these included no eggs. Honestly, I have no reason why, since eggs aren't exactly full of sugar or carbs. I made them anyway. The only modification I made was to substitute 1/4 cup of the cup of flour required with wheat flour to make it a bit healthier. The result sort of looked like pancakes, but it tasted like fluffy matzo. Luckily, I actually like matzo crackers, so this wasn't a big deal -- just really surprising. I made a fruit compote with stevia sweetener and served it with egg whites scrambled with zucchini, spinach and squash. Here's the final result:
Fortunately, it tasted better than it looked.
Loaded up (but still kind of starving) on my healthy, diabetes-approved breakfast, I headed to meet with my counselors. Most interesting part of the morning? The receptionist at intake trying to pump me for free legal advice. Seriously?! Does she do that to everyone who walks in who has "attorney" listed as occupation, or do I just have one of those faces??
After that weirdness was behind me, I met first with the dietitian, Rita. We went through my typical, not-at-all-diabetes-approved diet and figured out what things should be cut, modified, and kept. Surprisingly, there weren't too many drastic changes. True, my glazed donut + kolache + milk breakfast has been 100% eliminated, and I have to stop drinking lemonade 24/7, but my favorite red beans & rice lunch gets to stay. Next I met with the the nurse, Angela. She actually gave me various ways to save some of my current cravings with a little foreign (to me) thing called portion control. Get to the point where I just have to have the taste of a glazed donut? Get a couple of donut holes. Want some ice cream, and not of the chock-full-o-splenda variety? Eat 1/4 cup of Blue Bell Homestyle Vanilla (yum!). But the best news I received from Angela today? My pal Brittney (aka BostonsMama) doesn't have to change a thing about the snacks she is planning for my baby shower; I am free to indulge that one day!
All in all, the appointment went really well. I found out that I hadn't failed the glucose test as badly as I was led to believe. In fact, I had passed the fasting and one-hour portion of the test. It was the rest of it that I failed miserably. The pointers I was given were very helpful and tailored to my lifestyle and preferences. I actually feel like I can do this!
I realize this journey will be hard. No one likes pricking their finger 10 times a day. No one wants to count carbs or forgo their favorite foods. But you know what else no one wants? To give birth to a 16-pound baby.
This actually wasn't a surprise. My mom and at least two (of her six) sisters are diabetic. After my well-woman exam a year or so ago, I was told when my blood work came back that I was pre-diabetic. Non-pregnant pre-diabetic numbers pretty much mirror pregnant diabetic numbers.
I think I was lulled into a false sense of security when my early one-hour glucose test (at 12 weeks) came back hypoglycemic. This time, however, the results were not. My blood sugar was 166. Their threshold is 135. I was convinced I had just miscalculated my breakfast — after all, a Jack-in-the-Box taco seemed like a good idea to outsmart the test at the time. But how much sugar is in that salsa, anyway? And was it really smart to eat in the parking garage before walking into my appointment?
So shortly before my three-hour glucose trust, I decided to start monitoring my blood sugar in the morning. The results were not good. The day before the test, my fasting blood sugar was 110. The morning of, it was 98. The number to pass is 95.
Defeated, I walked into my midwives' office — 12 hours starved and dehydrated — on a mission. I already knew I had GD. So I just had to show them my glucose monitor, go meet with some counselors, and then I could eat, right? Wrong.
First, I ended up stuck in the waiting room for over an hour. By hour 13 of no food or drink, I became a hormonal, depressed, sobbing mess. By the time the nurse called me back, my eyes were already blood shot and puffy, and I was sob-heaving like Pop Culture Toddler. I told her that my fasting that morning was over their threshold for GD, that I was hungry, dehydrated and dizzy, and that I just wanted them to declare me GD so I could go meet with a counselor and get something to eat and drink. The nurse went to talk with the midwives and left me in my waiting room.
Some time later, one of my midwives, Debbie, came in to talk to me. We talked for over an hour [14 hours, no food or drink]. The end result of all this hysterical (on my part) chatter was that even with the numbers from my trusty glucose monitor, they had to run official tests or (1) the counselors wouldn't talk to me, and (2) my insurance company would likely not reimburse a thing. Debbie was pretty sure based on my home test that I was going to fail, but it had to be done. The end result was that Debbie would allow me to stay in the exam room for my full test, and a woman from the lab would come to do my blood draws. It was a good thing they let me stay in the room, too. An hour or so [15 hours sans food or real drink] after I drank the
The day continued to get worse, but I'll spare you those details. I'll leave it at the fact that I felt pretty defeated (as well as dizzy, hungry and just generally discombobulated) for days after the test. Then Tuesday I got the dreaded call from Debbie: "Well.... You were right. You failed. Sorry." I was led to believe I had greatly flunked the test. Now I just had to wait for the diabetic counselors to call me.
Being the nerd I am, I immediately started searching Amazon for the highest rated gestational diabetes books available on Kindle. I downloaded a cookbook and another general book.
Today was my first meeting with my diabetic counselors. I was terrified. Turns out I didn't need to be.
But, first, let's discuss breakfast. The diabetic cookbook I downloaded contained a recipe for "buttermilk pancakes." Unlike any pancakes I'm used to, these included no eggs. Honestly, I have no reason why, since eggs aren't exactly full of sugar or carbs. I made them anyway. The only modification I made was to substitute 1/4 cup of the cup of flour required with wheat flour to make it a bit healthier. The result sort of looked like pancakes, but it tasted like fluffy matzo. Luckily, I actually like matzo crackers, so this wasn't a big deal -- just really surprising. I made a fruit compote with stevia sweetener and served it with egg whites scrambled with zucchini, spinach and squash. Here's the final result:
Fortunately, it tasted better than it looked.
Loaded up (but still kind of starving) on my healthy, diabetes-approved breakfast, I headed to meet with my counselors. Most interesting part of the morning? The receptionist at intake trying to pump me for free legal advice. Seriously?! Does she do that to everyone who walks in who has "attorney" listed as occupation, or do I just have one of those faces??
After that weirdness was behind me, I met first with the dietitian, Rita. We went through my typical, not-at-all-diabetes-approved diet and figured out what things should be cut, modified, and kept. Surprisingly, there weren't too many drastic changes. True, my glazed donut + kolache + milk breakfast has been 100% eliminated, and I have to stop drinking lemonade 24/7, but my favorite red beans & rice lunch gets to stay. Next I met with the the nurse, Angela. She actually gave me various ways to save some of my current cravings with a little foreign (to me) thing called portion control. Get to the point where I just have to have the taste of a glazed donut? Get a couple of donut holes. Want some ice cream, and not of the chock-full-o-splenda variety? Eat 1/4 cup of Blue Bell Homestyle Vanilla (yum!). But the best news I received from Angela today? My pal Brittney (aka BostonsMama) doesn't have to change a thing about the snacks she is planning for my baby shower; I am free to indulge that one day!
All in all, the appointment went really well. I found out that I hadn't failed the glucose test as badly as I was led to believe. In fact, I had passed the fasting and one-hour portion of the test. It was the rest of it that I failed miserably. The pointers I was given were very helpful and tailored to my lifestyle and preferences. I actually feel like I can do this!
I realize this journey will be hard. No one likes pricking their finger 10 times a day. No one wants to count carbs or forgo their favorite foods. But you know what else no one wants? To give birth to a 16-pound baby.
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