One Hundred Push-Ups

The last few months I've been exercising fairly consistently, swimming about 4-5 times a week, walking, and even running a few times. I can definitely tell my clothes are fitting better, and people have told me my face and body look thinner.

The scale, of course, is not budging, and I'm not so delusional that I'd believe I've replaced fat with muscle mass. So I'm working to jump-start the actual weight-loss and toning aspect of my goals. I'm especially hoping to get shapely arms and a trim midsection, since these seem to be the areas that make me look heaviest.



Last night I did the initial evaluation for the One Hundred Push-Ups challenge. I've been talking about doing this since December, but I never actually got down to it. A friend of mine who is also working to get fit challenged me to a contest online last night, and while he smoked me, it did make it more fun.

At first I did 10 "regular" push-ups then 5 more modified "girly" ones (using my knees). I realized that these were not done with good form, as my lower back was sagging forward and I couldn't keep my upper body straight.

So I tried again, competing with my friend, and I did 23 consecutive, good-form modified push-ups. I wanted to give myself a lot of excuses, that I'd just gotten home from swimming a particularly challenging work-out, that I had already kind of done 15 before that 23, that I could have done more if my knees didn't start hurting etc, but 23 is a fine starting point, putting me at level 3 of 7 for the program.

I have to decide which days of the week I'll do the work-outs, but I can tell already from the soreness in my abs and shoulders that this is going to be a beneficial addition to my fitness regimen.

I think I'll start Two Hundred Sit-Ups soon too!

Psychological Toolkit

My parents believed their responsibility was not to tell my brother and I what to do, but rather give us as many skills and tools in our toolkit as possible, so that when we faced a difficult situation or decision, we had the resources to handle ourselves. The idea that firsthand experience far outweighs an abstract external rule in guiding behavior has proved remarkably effective, and I'm glad they took that approach because it taught us to think for ourselves and be (mostly) self-reliant people.

When it came to dealing with depression, I found my toolkit almost totally empty. To put it gently, my parents don't understand depression. They think it is something that lazy, overprivileged losers with too much time on their hands indulge in, and that if said losers would bootstrap a little and get over themselves, they'd be fine. I disagree, obviously, but I recognize how they came to these conclusions.

Because I lacked the resources, or even the words to articulate what was going on with me, I developed unhealthy coping mechanisms while my parents waited for me to "grow out of" depression. My mother recognized that I had always been moody, even as a toddler, and that I had more pronounced ups and downs than any other children she knew, but she believed it was just who I was and that I'd get over it with maturity and taking responsibility for myself.

I wouldn't change who I am or how I was made because among other habits, I started making art and writing, which give me more joy than I could ever imagine, and the times where I withdrew from others gave me the opportunity to study, learn, and discover. As long as I maintain a lifestyle that permits times of high activity and deep withdrawal, I've done alright and found my way.

What I find lately, though, is that this really doesn't work as an adult who wishes to maintain a job. Even in grad school, I'm able to become nocturnal for a few days, make a disaster of things, and still pull it together to finish projects and show up prepared for classes. As I'm working to finish my thesis and pursue a real (and pretty demanding) career path, I am encountering more and more challenges to the way I deal with life. This semester, I am scrambling to finish my thesis and graduate, and it's incredibly daunting. The stakes are really high (my summer job depends on having my master's), and I literally don't have time to fall off my game for even a few days, let alone a few weeks, while I wallow in depression and poor hygiene.

I sunk into a pretty deep depression over the holidays and for most of January. A lot of it was stress, finally having time for the gravity of the past few months' changes to weigh on my chest, more upsetting family stuff, and intense anxiety about this semester. What triggered it, though, seems so trite and stupid: I had my heart broken again. I don't need to dwell really - it was a situation of disappointed expectations, poor communication, and eventually a total freeze-out from someone who meant a lot to me.

Once again, I didn't have the resources to deal with it. Heartbroken depression is one of the worst kinds because it really does feel like wallowing. I withdrew from everyone else in my life, especially my parents, I stopped exercising (which caused a lot of strife with my mom because she is my swimming buddy), I ate terribly, I slept weird hours, I freaked out privately, and I kept telling myself that tomorrow, or the next day, I'd get it together and work on things.

I'm not sure what changed. Maybe wariness, or I finally slept the clock around and found myself awake during the day for once, but this week I decided it was time. I went swimming Tuesday and Wednesday, I started eating healthier meals, I talked to my mother about some of the things that have been upsetting me, I tried to reconnect with my father and brother, I've talked a little with friends (all of whom called me out and knew that I had disappeared for most of January), I made commitments to work projects, and I'm trying to deal with the things that I must.

Without realizing it, I followed the advice that I'd read in so many articles to the letter. Re-engaging in activities I enjoy, paying attention to the world outside of my own head, reemerging in society, increasing physical activity and healthy diet, etc.

After the storm had passed (or I resurfaced, or whatever metaphor you'd like), I reread an article on Helping Yourself Out of Depression which I've linked here before. I tried to track down Dan Bilsker's self-care guide for depression mentioned in the article, and I found a pretty great resource: The Antidepressant Skills Workbook. That guide is also available as an audiobook or PDF, but I like the website format.

The thing that struck me most was the idea that I don't always have to have cycles of depression. All these years, I've kind of accepted it as part of who I am, as something I'll just deal with when it comes. But this guide (which I have not yet read in full) suggests that the inevitability of depression relapse is a myth. I could not only learn to better cope with depression, but I could stop experiencing it altogether. That would be a great skill to add to my psychological toolkit, for sure.

I'm going to work on this, the same way I would with a new diet or exercise regime. I need to gather resources and build my skills so that depression doesn't take over my life so much. I have to not only work to pull out of it, but to avoid letting it take hold in the first place. I'm actually fascinated to see if it really is a pattern in which I indulge, and if it's as simple as deciding not to do that anymore.

Numbers Game

It is starting to slowly click in my head that losing weight is a numbers game. I hate numbers, but here they are.



To lose 1 pound of fat, a person must burn 3500 calories more than they've taken in.

To lose a pound a week, this translates to 500 calories per day, which can be broken down into whatever combination of diet and exercise desired (e.g. 250 calories more exercise and 250 calories less food... or 500 calories more exercise, eating the same).

If I weigh 185 pounds right now (this is an estimate - I haven't weighed myself in a few days), and I want to weigh 120, I must lose 65 pounds, which is 227,500 calories.

That is a lot of calories.

To do this with exercise alone, I'd have to burn 500 extra calories every day. Given that most of my work-outs average around 400-450, this isn't totally impossible... but I haven't been exercising 7 days (or times) a week.

I also haven't exactly been going easy on the food and drink, which will definitely slow this whole process.

Assuming I am actually able to lose a pound a week (with redoubled efforts), then it would take me 65 weeks to meet my goal. That is 16 months, 1 week, if there were no failures or slip-ups. More than a year.

I've read in many places that it is unwise to try to lose more than 30 pounds at a time, so I am trying to lose all the weight that I want to in two installments: lose 30, maintain, lose another 30.



To be honest, I would be pretty happy to weigh 155 pounds, but to have a healthy BMI at 5'4", I should be somewhere in the 110-140 range. If I weigh 120, my BMI would be 20.5. Calculating my current BMI was scary, since I am once again obese at 31.8.

It's been so long since I weighed 120 pounds that I can't even imagine what it would look like, but I intend to stick at this diet and exercise thing until I see. This is going to be a very long road, but I know that I need to make major life changes if I want to be healthy.

Losing weight isn't a mystical process or something for which I must be morally superior to others: it is a practice of crunching the numbers and coming up with a net loss of 500 calories (or more) per day.

New Year, New Resolve

A lot of things have changed since the last time I wrote, mostly for the better.

After four years, my boyfriend and I broke up. It was a destructive relationship, and I know I am much better off now that I am out of it. A lot of my bad eating habits, depression, lousy attitude, and sense of defeat were coming from that situation, and I'm relieved to live in a much healthier place now.

I moved twice, once with my boyfriend, and then back into my parents' house. They are paying for food and most of my living expenses now, which is definitely a regressive step, but also a very helpful one while I finish grad school.

I started exercising, first joining a pool and swimming several times a week. Currently I swim about 2000 meters five times a week. I also just added running to the mix. The first time I ran a breezy 2.5 miles, hobbled around for a few days and struggled through walking the same distance, then got up to 3 miles this week. I plan to continue both, as they are becoming important stress relievers.

Probably because I'm living at home again, I think a lot about my younger self, when I was athletic and health-conscious. I had a really nice body, and I was fitter than most people I knew. I realize that that body was not just built on youth, but on running, swimming, dance, and being generally active, and I'm encouraged that I can have that kind of health and fitness again if I just stick with what I'm doing.

As the new year approaches, I'm not really concentrating on losing weight, since I'm sure that will happen. I haven't weighed myself in a few days, but I've lost about 20 pounds since September and have reason to believe that number will keep going down as I exercise more. Instead, I am focusing on becoming fit, especially the discipline and self-possession that comes with an exercise regime.

I will check in more often with progress and notes on what works. I may also talk about some of the emotional stuff that I now realize was sabotaging everything I was doing.

No plan is a plan

When I was in high school, my father approached the subject of dating with quite a bit of trepidation. Having been a teenage boy himself, he knew the score, and when I would ask permission to go on vague nonspecific outings, he would insist that I provide more details: times, locations, who else would be there besides my boyfriend and myself, phone numbers to reach me if I came home late, etc. When I asked why he was being so unreasonably strict, in the way only a self-righteous teenager with thwarted plans could, he intoned "Because no plan is a plan."

I have found this sentiment to be true in all the aspects of my life which do not involve backseat necking as well. I've also heard it rephrased in terms of productivity as "If you fail to plan, you should plan to fail."

I've resisted choosing and committing to a new diet plan for months. I keep telling myself that any day now, I'll get the inspiration I need, but gazing down at my midsection I'm aware this is untrue.

Last night my boyfriend got home late, and I had neglected to go to the grocery before it closed at 10pm. Instinctively, I wanted to pick up the telephone or surf over to the Dominos website to order something.

I stopped myself, and I even said out loud that even though pizza or take-out would be satisfying and I really wanted it, I also want to be healthy and I don't want to be obese all my life. I went in search of a more sensible option, and I found a box of tri-color rotini and a jar of tomato sauce in the cupboard.

I thought I was being terribly clever, satisfying the craving for tomato and carbohydrates, but omitting the fatty cheese and the glut of pork-based products I typically add. It took less time to cook at home than even the speediest delivery guy could manage, and I knew the ingredients cost vastly less than a pizza, so I was pleased with myself all around.

The trouble is that after one bowl, I was not even remotely satisfied. I gave it some time to settle in my stomach, drinking a big glass of diet soda, thinking that at any moment I would feel full. But no, I was still actively, physically hungry, so I ate another heaping bowl.

As I was wrapping up the leftovers, I realized I'd eaten more than half a box of pasta, and I was still really dissatisfied. My mind flashed to nights of carbo-loading before high school athletic meets, and I realized I'd just inundated my system with carbohydrates and probably not much nutrition.

Since I ate the remainder of the pasta and sauce for lunch and an afternoon snack today, I couldn't stop the intonation in my brain, "I ate 12 ounces of pasta and 3 cups of sauce by myself in the past 24 hours."

I fished the pasta box and sauce jar out of the recycling bin and decided to find out just what kind of damage I had done.




(click to enlarge)

Well shoot. So much for being sensible.

From the sauce, I consumed 540 calories, 150 of which were fat. 18 grams of fat, 3 of which were saturated. 78 grams of carbohydrates, 60 of which were sugar and 18 of which contained dietary fiber, and 2820 mg of sodium.

From the pasta, I consumed 1260 calories, 60 of which were fat. 6 grams of fat, though no saturated or trans. 252 grams of carbohydrates, 12 of which were sugar and 12 dietary fiber, and 180 mg sodium.

My total for the past 24 hours, therefore, was:

Calories	1800
Calories from Fat	210
Fat	24 g
Saturated Fat	3
Carbohydrates	330 g
Sugar	72 g
Dietary Fiber	30 g
Sodium	3000 mg

Ugh. Well, I thought, it can't have been all bad. Perhaps I got some good nutrients in?

54 g protein, and of daily values, 60% Vitamin A, 36% Vitamin C, 12% calcium, 84% iron, 66% potassium, 180% thiamin, 60% Riboflavin, 90% Niacin, 150% Folate (folic acid).

Not exactly batting a thousand here.

The thing is... when left to my own devices, I usually make much worse choices than this, which include tons of trans fats, packaged and overly processed cookies and sweets, and fried abominations with even less redeeming value. I am quite certain I massively exceed 2000 calories a day, and I know a whopping percentage of them must be fat and sugar.

The real surprise isn't that I'm fat, rather that I'm not even fatter.

When I look at it as a simple numbers game, it seems really easy to balance the scales and drop pounds. I know myself, of course, and I know that hasn't proved true thus far, but I think that learning more about nutrition and actually paying attention to these things would help me in being a less brainless eater.

This is where conscientious dieting - learning why I'm doing what I'm doing - is the most powerful tool at my disposal. I do need to learn how to eat right in the long term, or I'm going to constantly battle my weight throughout life.

Of course, I've got all this fat now and I really want to drop it quickly. Sigh.

The Circle of Fat

A long time ago, I read a passage in a book by Joyce Vedral describing the "circle of fat" effect many women experience.

She posited that weight gain often starts for women in the lower abdomen, often as the particularly nefarious deep belly fat which seems at times impossible to lose. We continue to gain around the waist, hips, butt, thighs, upper arms, and so on, spreading in a circle from our navel outwards. When I read that, I found it startlingly accurate, as all my problem areas concentrated around my midsection.

If I remember correctly, Ms Vedral's solution combined diet and exercise focused on the core muscle groups (tons of ab work) to halt the spread, and eventually diminish the circle of fat.

I think that I ignore my increasing weight gain in part because it follows this pattern. If I've bought clothing for the largest part of me, then I have lots of room to grow along the perimeter of my circle of fat before it starts noticeably impacting fit. If I'm dressing to move emphasis away from that area anyway, it takes a while for encroaching gain to become really obvious. Evidently, I can gain more than 20 pounds and stay relatively comfortable in the same clothing size.

Underneath those clothes, I look several months pregnant and feel awful.

Another aspect of my neglect has been turning a blind eye to that which I don't want to see. I'm accustomed, when I look in a mirror - even the full-length one on the back of our bathroom door - to only look at my head from the neck up, legs from the knee down, and arms from the elbows down. I effectively ignore the majority of my body because I've hopelessly resigned that's just my circle of fat. If I can help it, I avoid turning around to see the ever-widening expanse of my back, the folds under my bra line, my frighteningly huge ass... I just assume it's terrible and try not to look.

I find myself lately wishing I could wear a big shapeless sack that only reveals the parts of me I like, and in the fall and winter it was almost possible to do this with voluminous skirts, sweaters, and so on. It's unrealistic, though, because as many pains as I may take to avoid dealing with my circle of fat, I know everyone else sees it becoming increasingly spherical, and more to the point, I know how much it is impacting my health.

My grandfather recently had his fourth bout with cancer in the past few years, and it was especially awful this time. When I asked my mother what she thought could be causing so many cancers at this stage in his life, I was expecting her to say drug or alcohol use or growing up in a part of the country sometimes called "Cancer Alley." Instead she said "Well he was seriously overweight most of his life, and now it's catching up to him."

I was flummoxed. Fat causes cancer?? I felt really dumb as my mother outlined the ways that excess abdominal fat squeezes organs, inhibits function, and demands resources that would ordinarily go toward maintenance. While I need to do more research, I did learn that she was spot-on, and there are numerous increased risks of cancer to do with being overweight.

So now my circle of fat is no longer a problem of vanity or a hindrance for swimsuit season, but a serious health problem which I must resolve as soon as I can.

And unfortunately, it is every bit as bad as I feared it would be:



I have a lot of work ahead of me.

Back and fatter

Well. I've been gone a long time, avoiding dieting effectively since last summer, and I've gotten dangerously close to the heaviest I've been again.

I will have to weigh myself tomorrow to confirm, but recent numbers were as high as 192. Shudder.

The most I've ever weighed in my life was 202 pounds, and I am suddenly within a stone's throw of that again. I worked for a few months to drop about 25 pounds at one point, and I even got down around 170 at the end of last summer. But once again I let stress, finances, and poor organization get me down, packing back on 20 pounds like it was nothing.

This isn't okay, and I really need to do something. My boyfriend and I are at a point where we talk about breaking up at least once a month, just so that we can get some control over our lives with regards to diet and exercise.

I have a lot of thoughts about all of this stuff, and I haven't been paying nearly enough attention to my health as I should.

This summer I'm going to work to get my act together, quit making excuses, and finally start on the healthy lifestyle I've been attempting for, well, years now.

Yikes

I came back to this site to look up a recipe, and I realized I'd left a very long, very personal entry at the top. I committed one of the cardinal sins of blogging and removed it. Even though I mostly consider this a journal for myself, there are some things that just don't need to be out in public.

I do have things I'd like to write about, and I would really like to get back on track with my health. Please expect more regular posting again soon.

Drug Efficacy

I had lunch with my mother yesterday, and we were talking about my grandfather, who has in the past had prostate cancer and recently learned he had a cancerous mass in one of his kidneys. He had the kidney removed last week, but he was still feeling a little under the weather and had developed a fever, so the doctor prescribed antibiotics and stressed how important it was for him to take them with food so they absorbed effectively, now that his remaining kidney has an extra burden of absorption.

At this point in the conversation, I realized I hadn't taken any vitamins, and I pulled out the little baggie of 19 pills I'd brought with me. I told my mom about the vitamin and herb cocktail I'd started, and she joked, "Why are you taking all that? To make really expensive pee?"

We laughed, and I explained how I have been careful to always take them with food and spread them out through the day so they can be absorbed properly. She insisted that the body doesn't absorb supplements and a person just pees them out.

While I disagree with my mother and wonder where she got her cynicism from, it did give me momentary pause. How do I know any of this is doing anything?

With prescription drugs, even if they weren't achieving their intended effects, I was sure the drug was getting into my system because I felt so completely different in every way when I took them. If I took my antidepressant a little late in the day, there was a noticeable difference, and if I missed a day, I would faint. Two days, and I had a seizure. (This is part of the reason I'm leery of psychopharmaceuticals - I don't like something having so much control over my entire body).

However, with herbal supplements and vitamins, I'm less sure. I like that ginseng doesn't make me feel like I'm on speed, but I wonder if it really boosts my energy. I feel like I'm concentrating a little better with ginkgo biloba, but I can't say for sure that I have better circulation to my head and extremities because I don't feel gushes of blood and all that. And similarly with my One-a-Day, I feel a little better all over, but I can't say what vitamins are helping which processes.

For the first two years of my undergrad, I majored in Neuroscience, and probably my favorite class was Neuropathology. In the pharmacology unit, we studied specific drugs and why they did what they did at a molecular level, then expanded it to understand what happened on cellular, systemic, bodily, and psychiatric levels. Because I could say exactly what the drug molecules did in the brain, I could believe that they had the effects they were supposed to, and I understood how to monitor a patient's treatment.

I don't have that kind of knowledge of vitamins and herbs, and I'm not 100% confident that the people who harvest and package herbs do either. Yes, the history of pharmacology is one of adapting substances from nature with observed effects to controlled and standardized units packaged in pills, powders, and the like, and marketed as cures. But how do we know what they do? Is it okay to simply say ginseng gives you energy, just like caffeine or cocaine, and I don't have to question how and why? I want to research these further and understand them at a chemical level before I put all my faith in them.

For now I have chosen to trust these pills and see what they do. I'm not so naive as to say anything from nature can't be bad for me, but I trust the amount of research that's been done in the three herbal drugs I'm taking, as well as the efficacy of a multivitamin and vitamin C in maintaining a healthy immune system.

I would really appreciate it if anyone could point me in the direction of some more concrete data on St John's Wort, Koren ginseng, and Ginkgo Biloba. And if you have anything on chromium picolinate, I'm all ears for that too.

New Cocktail

I've had some pretty hugely stressful things go on in my life since last writing (terrible family scare, really important school deadlines, near break-up with my boyfriend etc), but I think I'm past it now.

The diet went out the window as I put all my priorities into school. I gained back all the weight I'd lost in Italy plus some, and the overall shape of my body is much worse now that I am not exercising so regularly. My clothes fit poorly, I cringe at photos of myself with shock, and all that.

I wasn't too concerned because I can accept that weight loss is a long and slow process. Where I was worried is the ways in which being physically unhealthy was affecting my mental and emotional health. I got into a rather terrible spiral of anxiety and depression that I wasn't sure how to get out of. Finishing a major project helped, but I still could tell that my moods were imbalanced and I wasn't really myself.

Last week, my boyfriend and I went out with friends, and my mood was finally starting to lift. We had a few drinks, but I limited myself to three whiskey drinks, the last one mixed with a 12-oz can of Diet Coke.

I'm hesitant to write this even as I do because even though this journal is anonymous, it's still really really embarrassing. Here goes.

When we got in the elevator, I realized I had to pee, fairly urgently. As long as we kept walking, I was alright, but by the time I had to stop to pay for my Metro card, I really didn't know how I was going to keep myself together. I was wearing heeled boots, and as I carefully started down the stairs, one of them caught on a step, I started to slip, and I thought I was going to fall. I caught myself, but I was so startled that I'd lost control of my bladder and ended up... wetting my pants on the subway platform.

Fortunately I had a shopping bag in front of me and a scarf to tie around my waist, but I was absolutely mortified.

When I got home, I showered, then immediately went onto WebMD. See, I've always had really sudden urges and needed to pee many times a day (up to once or twice an hour), but I figured it was an excess of caffeine or attention issues (I get really involved in what I'm doing and don't realize I must go until it's nearly an emergency). I had been having more and more close calls prior to the subway, so I'd cut back on soda, but I never felt quite so... incontinent before.

The first article I came across was one to do with the 3 Conditions Women Don't Talk About, and they were incontinence, irritable bowel syndrome, and waning sexual desire. Check, check, and (I have to admit), check.

I read up on all three, and I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. Before going on Zoloft a few years ago, I'd spoken with my doctor about herbal alternatives, specifically St John's Wort. She said they were just as effective if not better than the prescription, but they could be difficult to monitor and basically required that you be on a steady diet and exercise regime for them to work, as they were supplements to a healthy lifestyle, and not replacements for one. Being lazy and immature, I opted for prescriptions and went through a year of hell and irresponsible psychiatry, never quite getting the doses right.

So last week I decided that rather than see another psychiatrist, whose primary resource is a prescription pad, I would take up a healthier lifestyle, monitor myself through writing, and take herbal supplements. The fact that my insurance doesn't cover prescriptions or counseling was probably in the back of my mind, but it seemed like the better way to treat my body.

I realized today that I now take a lot of pills every day, instead of one little one, but I think overall they're better:



From left to right: St John's Wort, Korean ginseng, good old One-a-Day WeightSmart, Ginkgo Biloba, vitamin C, chromium picolinate, and fiber supplements.

I started taking them on Monday, and so far I feel terrific. I know that it is probably a bit of a placebo effect, since the St John's Wort is supposed to work slowly over two months, but I can immediately feel an increase in energy and enthusiasm. I'm just generally cheerier, and I'm optimistic that I'm on the right path to helping myself naturally.

I need to start back up on a diet again. My boyfriend wants to go back on Atkins, but I'm thinking that the Glycemic Impact would be better for us as far as a long-term lifestyle change.

My boyfriend and I have also been talking a lot about our behaviors and what we do to one another. We fight all the time about the apartment being a disaster (and yes, it really is that bad), and generally our relationship had deteriorated to one of constant bickering and shouting. I finally decided in the midst of a really ugly fight that that was enough. I insisted that if we were going to have anything to do with one another (at this point, he said he was moving out and I said I was through with him), we needed some ground rules, namely no yelling, no name-calling, berating or character assaults, no slamming doors or storming out in anger, and our conversations should have one topic or point per statement, no making speeches or litanies of offenses. It's been going a lot better since then, and we've been considerably kinder to one another.

I feel that if we work to get our living situation more comfortable and productive for both of us, then it will be a lot easier to stick with a diet and exercise plan (and vice versa). To the same extent that my poor health was affecting my moods and concentration, I know that our mutual physical problems are really negatively impacting our relationship. So it's time to change.

While I am rambling excessively about my health (it's been a while, I have to catch up!), I also have two other issues I want to keep an eye on.

1.) My vision is getting noticeably worse, to the point where my glasses are barely working on some days. I'm not sure if it is eye fatigue and need of a new prescription (as the dull headaches would indicate) or overall bleary-eyed tiredness (as the early morning classes are a strain sometimes), but I want to get it checked out, if I can find somewhere affordable. It really irks me that my school's insurance doesn't cover dental or vision at all, as if graduate students no longer have teeth or eyes when they enroll. Nevertheless, if I can justify spending money on shoes or jeans, I can definitely find some room in my budget to take care of my vision.

2.) Skin and hair. My skin seems to be breaking out worse than usual, probably from stress, anxiety, and poor nutrition. I have some new products I'm introducing into my regime, so we'll see. I've been concerned about my hair thinning for a few years now, as it was a big side effect of anxiety, then Zoloft, then anxiety again. I keep going through shampoos trying to find one which works best, but I'm still dissatisfied. It's my hope that better nutrition and exercise, as well as alleviating some anxiety will help, but I want to pay attention. I also want to be careful that whatever diet I choose still gets enough good fats and oils to maintain healthy hair and skin.

So, that's the current state of my health and life. Whew. Back to schoolwork!