Ye Olde Second Post: Or, the Aftermath of an Interview

So, as I’m sure you could tell from the introductory post, this blog is going to be somewhat about my issues with food. However, on those days when it’s not about my diet, it’s going to be about either a) my love of writing or b) my life as a college senior. Or, it’s going to be about a multitude of other things, like the succesful parts of my weight loss plan or my excercise regimen or ice cream, because ice cream is delicious. Today, however, this blog is going be about the first item on that list.

I’ve always considered myself to be a bit of a Jane of All Trades, and perhaps pride myself on this, too; over the years, I’ve dabbled in more extra curricular activities (violin, tap, Irish step, guitar, horse back riding …), languages (Indonesian, German, Italian, Spanish, French …) and clubs than I care to think about. Of course, the flip side of that personality trait is that while I may know a little about everything, I don’t know much about anything. But, my flaws aside, it’s this desire to know a little somethin’ somethin’ about 90% of our existence that initially drew me to journalism.

When I first joined the Justice—the independent student newspaper of Brandeis U., that place I live/work/take classes at—I viewed it as just as an outlet that might help polish my writing skills during the pursuit of a Creative Writing major. However, as I took assignments, I came to realize how much I loved exploring different areas of study and being able to switch topics of study on a regular basis. One day, I would attend a lecture on German-Jewish dialogue, and the next I would be reviewing films. Granted, in the real world of journalism I’m sure one’s writing career isn’t that diverse at first, but the underlying concept of there being diverse assignments persists.

As an editor for the Justice, I don’t have much time for writing, so I’d forgotten a bit about that particular aspect of my love for journalism. But, after my interview with Elizabeth B., I was reminded of this initial attraction to the field. B., a convert to Islam and the subject of choice for my next beat story,* gave me an incredibly interesting perspective on the life and challenges faced by Muslims when I was expecting only a rundown on the life of Islam’s Brandeisian practitioners. She told me not only about her conversion experience, but also of the general misconceptions other students bring to her regarding Islam and the political charge that exists at Brandeis between various religious groups. The interview lasted 30 minutes, which isn’t particularly long in the grand journalistic scheme of things, but it was a very educational 30 minutes.

In other news: Glee and So You Think You Can Dance are on tonight, whoot! Be social? Pah! There’s television to be seen!

*I should note that I’m currently enrolled in a journalism course called “The Contemporary World in Print,” which requires us to follow an on campus “beat” and write regular articles about said beat. My beat? The chaplaincy. How many times can I use beat in this footnote? Beat beat beat beat beat beat beat beat. Beat THAT.

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Ye Olde First Post

I think it’s interesting that I can pinpoint the exact moment when I became conscious of my weight.

Well, not the exact moment, per se; my memory isn’t that good. However, I do know that occurred in high school, and I also know that it was spurred by two girlfriends’ suggestion that we all go on a diet together.

“Do I need to diet?” It hadn’t really occurred to me before, but it seemed like a fun group activity. It would be a bonding experience between myself and my lady friends, not unlike going to the mall together to point out dreamy dudes.

The group diet didn’t last very long with the other two girls, but I stuck with it and ended up losing a significant amount of weight. And then I lost more weight. And more.

Whereas before I didn’t really think about my eating habits (I fondly look back upon the times when I would come home from school and naively enjoy my favorite snacks), I got to the point where I was obsessed with everything I put in my mouth. For my dieting ventures, I had chosen the Weight Watchers plan, and now I wouldn’t put something into my mouth unless I knew how many points it contained. This rule applied every day except once a week, when I would binge. Every week when I got on the scale, my pulse would race and the enjoyability of my day (and, really, my whole week) would be determined by my weight. I remember one day, when I found I had gained weight and now weighed in at a grotesque 123 pounds, sobbing as I worked out on the treadmill.

I’m not nearly as obsessed with my weight now, I would like to think. After transitioning from high school to college, I gained the Freshman Fifteen and I honestly think it was what I needed; the realization that my life would not end if I gained weight was thrust in my face, and every since I’ve been a little more realistic about the number on the scale. Still, I’ve missed out on many the social opportunity because of my fear of gaining too much weight, and I’m a strict calorie counter; in the aftermath of losing of my F.F., I regained it following a messy breakup, and I’ve been fighting off the pounds for over a year, now.

However, I recently came to the realization that whenever I’ve gained weight, it wasn’t because I went out to eat with my friends too much; rather, it was because I was so frustrated in my diet that I binged and gained back everything I had lost. I’ve been losing and regaining the same 10 pounds for the last 12 months, and I’ve been counting calories or points for the last four years—even when I was at a maintenance weight, because even when I was mainting my ideal weight (approximately 128 pounds), I was still binging once a week and consequently had to follow a diet regimen every other day of the week in order to maintain my weight.

In light of this epiphany, I’ve decided it’s time to make the transition to intuitive eating: Like my Mum says, if what you’re doing isn’t working, then it’s time to try something else. However, I am giving myself three more weeks of dieting in the hopes that I can finally lose the last three pounds and be in my 120s, again, and thus totally comfortable with abandoning my dieting lifestyle. Also, I partially gained weight on account of my taking on a stressful position on my student newspaper—which has been very rewarding and definitely worthwhile despite its effect on my emotional and physical state—and my term will be over in three weeks. Thus, I see the end of my term as a good point at which to transition into intuitive eating. I can only take so much change at a time, people. Besides, “they” do say that it is best to make a transition like this during a non-stressful time. ANYWAY, Regardless of where I am weight-wise in three weeks, though, I will no longer be dieting at the end of that period of time—it’s time to move on.

This blog will be my account of my rediscovery of intuition–of a writer’s intuition, intuitive eating and a woman’s intuition.