cindy's world

I went to the gym yesterday evening with intention to do a run. My treadmill runs lately are about 3 miles cuz that’s pretty much all I have time for during lunchtime. When I say “lately,” however, I mean one run every other week or so; I’m not that good about it. Yesterday, I stepped on the treadmill and input a program for Alpine Pass (2 steep hills in the middle of the program), set the maximum speed for 5.5mph, maximum hill at an incline of level 5, set the duration for 45 minutes, and went for it. It was a smooth, comfortable run. I was so comfortable, in fact, that at the end of the program, I immediately reset the treadmill for a 5.5mph run on a flat course and went at it another 15 minutes plus an additional 9 minute cool-down jog/walk. (Afterwards, when I did abs on the mat, I put my workout towel behind me and laid my back on it. It was almost wringably wet when I was done.)

I dedicate that run to Mel, who’d written in a recent blog entry that she’s now up to 60 minutes in her runs now. That statement stuck in my head last nite, and inspired me to reach for 60 minutes as well. Thanks, Mel!

I was reading an article in the December 11, 2006 issue of People magazine entitled “Anorexia, Again”, which chronicles the relapse of Jennifer Shortis into her eating disorder. When I first began reading it, I felt removed from the disease, like watching a science fiction or horror flick on TV. It didn’t occur to me to remember until after I’d finished the article that I’d once been anorexic for years. I saw my prior eating disorder as just a dumb decision made out of ignorance of the functions of the human body. It was a regret, and had I known then how much it’d affect my body’s weight regulation system and metabolism even decades after I’d stopped, I would never have done it. My body is quick to store fat and slow to burn it; skipping a couple of meals drops me into “starvation” mode and my blood withdraws, I’m suddenly freezing, and I know any food I take in at this time would go straight to fat as my body prepares for a perceived famine. It sucks. I do three times the energy output at the gym and lose less than one-third the weight (if any) of a normal person on a normal workout. So the fact that I feel distanced from anorexia now means that I’ve learned how to be healthier and that I’ve recovered, right?

That’s what I thought until I got to the end of the article — an insert giving anorexia nervosa facts:

According to a study published this year in the International Journal of Eating Disorders, one-third of anorexia patients will recover fully, one-third will have a functional recovery, and a third will battle the illness constantly. Experts offer opinions as to why.

One-third gets a full recovery? Only one-third? Was I just lucky? Was I never in as deeply as I thought? The insert goes on:

When is treatment seen as successful? “This tends to be a chronic illness,” says Dr. Esther Dechant, medical director of the Klarman Eating Disorders Center at Harvard. “Full recovery means you are fine with your body, have no [anorexic] behaviors and can eat normally and follow hunger cues.”

Uh-oh. If I’m not fine with my body (I don’t remember ever actually being “fine” with my body; even at my lowest weight point I always thought I could lose just a few more, like at least 5 lbs, despite coworkers saying I’m now “too” thin), am I being healthy and realistic, or is this a problem? And as far as anorexic behaviors, I still skip meals fairly often, but that’s cuz I feel like I’ve created a caloric surplus somewhere and need to “even things out”. I still feel massive amounts of guilt when I eat certain things and want to punish myself. Yesterday, I binged through half a bag of Trader Joe’s version of Cheetos, the reduced fat version, which gave me almost 500 calories, and then after the workout I ate more than several servings of raw nuts which I know have “healthy fats and proteins” good for me, but not in the quantity I consumed them, so I didn’t have lunch, and for dinner I had Kashi cereal because it’s the lightest thing I had at home. This morning I just had a cup of coffee. Is this a problem?

What keeps a recovery from lasting? “Relapse is based on a number of factors,” says Dr. Marcia Herrin, cofounder of Dartmouth’s eating disorders program. Among them, she says, is the weight at which patients can be released from inpatient care. “I think it is way too low. If the weight isn’t fixed, nothing else gets fixed.”

Well. No problem there. I can afford to lose about 25 lbs and still outweigh most Asian girls my height. Altho I did hear recently that Asia is just starting to have an obesity problem. Guess I’ll see when I go to China in a couple of weeks. I’d be delighted if I could be a normal sized or small girl in Asia. The last time I was in Asia, a friend of the family observed to my mother that she’s open-minded enough to see that my figure is “standard” or “correct” (biaow dzwen in Mandarin), but that to Asian standards, I’m still fat. Asians have a way of talking around their offspring as if the offspring are not there or don’t understand the language. Actually, I think she meant it as a compliment.

How long is enough time to reach a healthy weight? “Most programs recommend 90 days,” says Dr. James Greenblatt, medical director of Walden Behavioral Care. “It’s frustrating. If we had two patients at the same weight, one [insurance] company might provide two weeks of care, another a week. Once it stops being life-threatening, [insurers] feel it can be treated in an outpatient setting. We used to keep patients until they were at or about 100 percent of their ideal body weight. Now there are no set criteria. It is clear that readmission rates increased as length of stay has decreased.”

If body weight is the indicator of anorexia now, instead of the previous markers of psychological thought and habits like it used to be, then I have no problem. It used to be that someone was not clear of anorexia just because he/she is not emaciated, and the treaters of the disease used to emphasize that just cuz you’re not 70 lbs doesn’t mean you’re not anorexic or bulimic; if you constantly see yourself as fat, you overcontrol food intake or you binge-eat and then throw it up or take laxatives to eliminate, you are anorexic or bulimic.

Even in the age of HMOs, is there hope for recovery? “I see people recover,” says Herrin. “The part that ends up being key is when a client says, ‘I really want this.’ “

Since we’ve established that I’m not “anorexic” cuz I’m not starving to death, I don’t see anything about “wanting” or “not wanting” as an issue. Except that I really really want to be small(er).

Being in the wrong court at the wrong time (Friday) nearly ruined my weekend. Courtroom hours are typically till 4pm, and they shut down after 4 to give the staff a chance to finish their work, do whatever running around they need, so they can get out of there by 5. The judge in Santa Monica on Friday stayed in trial on the record until 4:50p, after which he thanked the court reporter for “staying late” and didn’t even look in my direction, and got off the bench. Hello! The court reporter lives nearby and that’s her regularly assigned courthouse, whereas *I* had a 3-hour drive ahead of me now due to rush hour traffic! So instead of driving home and sitting in traffic, I called up childhood friend Karen (grew up with her since she was in kindergarten and I was in 3rd grade), who lives in nearby West Los Angeles, and we had a nice boat sushi dinner followed by Pinkberry frozen yogurt. It’s fun to catch up with someone whom I see, like, once every other year. Altho I did see her last summer when she treated me to dinner for my birthday. She’s always got tons of stuff going on and I live vicariously through her for a couple of hours until I’m dizzy. Ah, to be young and energetic.
me and Karen almost exactly 2 yrs ago:

Saturday, Mr. W and I went to the Irvine Farmer’s Market, an outdoor “swap meet” style setup with fresh produce, organic groceries and baked goods, and hand-made crafts and clothing. We bought a package of whole wheat pita bread, two types of flavored hummus (spicy red pepper and kalamata olive), dolmas (finger-sized appetizers of seasoned rice wrapped in grape leaves), then went to his place, packed everything up with beverages and an avocado, and we headed off to Irvine Park to have a picnic. After eating our fill of fresh healthy Greek food, we fell asleep on a blanket over grass and under trees. After awakening, we took a nice long walk around the large park and its equestrian, pond, and picnic areas, then went back to his house to watch Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift while eating homemade pizzas made out of toasting the leftover pita bread and ingredients around his house. Now THAT drifting in the movie is cool. We watched the making of the film, and drifting appears to be more complicated than I thought. Yeah, uh, I’m not gonna be doing it with my car. I also can’t afford to go through 3 sets of tires a day. But I do think I’m at least a drifting fan now.

Sunday, Mr. W and I spent lots of quality time together in the morning, then hit the gym. In the early afternoon, Vanessa came over and she and I headed out to our massage appointments at Glen Ivy Day Spa in Brea. This was her induction into a full-facility day spa that had steam rooms, whirlpool, rainfall showers, complimentary sugar scrubs, tea and apples. I hadn’t seen her smile that big in a long time. We both booked 80-minute full body massages, it was much needed, especially after my Friday the 13th. After we split up after the appointments, I visited my parents, pigged out at their house, and then decided that since it was early, I was going back to Mr. W’s. We watched Pursuit of Happyness starring Will Smith featuring his real-life 5-yr old son, which is a pretty good movie. Will Smith’s son Jaden did a phenomenal job. Nothing he said sounded rehearsed, it was all sincere and convincing, even his tantrum. After the movie, I realized, “Hey, if this movie is set in 1981, and the little boy Christopher was 5 in this movie, that means he’s MY age!” And then suddenly this movie seemed to tell a story from so long ago, and I suddenly felt old. So I went to sleep right away like an old person.

This is another TMI post. I’d suggest the men to not click on the “more.”
(more…)

I think I caught a cold at the Formula-D event this Saturday. It was colder than I expected, overcast near the water, and the wind was blowing. It had crossed my mind that my body temperature might just take a dip long enough for some viruses to really grab on, but I hoped for the best. Sunday, I woke up with a sore lumpy throat (looked almost like tonsillitis) and got congested. I couldn’t sleep Sunday night because my body had temperature regulation issues; it was either too hot with the covers on, or too cold with them off, the pillow was either too high and cutting off my breathing, or too flat without it, and it seemed like there was a monstrous hole in the middle of the mattress trying to suck me into some bed bug abyss. Plus, I just wasn’t sleepy. I probably got an hour of sleep. It didn’t help that Monday (yesterday), work worked me beyond belief and I was sniffling with an itchy throat all day. I was able to get some shut-eye last nite, but today I come into work and the air conditioning is on full-blast so that it sounds like I’m in the middle of a blizzard. *sigh* Oh, in case you guys don’t know how A/C works in the building, here’s a short little ditty I’d written on it some time ago.

*beep* “Hi, guys. This is [Mr. W]. Lily called Cindy and said that our passports and visas are ready to be picked up, and she wants to know if you want her to pick up your passports and as well.”

In the above sentence, who does “she” refer to? Grammatically, the pronoun (“she”) would refer back to the subject (Lily), so doesn’t it sound like Lily called me to tell me that our passports/visas are ready to be picked up and Lily asked if I wanted to pick up passports/visas for Mr. W’s friends, as well? When I heard Mr. W leave this message on his friends’ answering machine, I told him that it sounded convoluted as to who was asking whom to pick up the passports because all he said was “she.” The remainder of the message, he told them to call him back and let him know so he could tell “her” (meaning me). This led to a dispute because Mr. W insisted that he’d made a point to say my name so that they would know that it was me who was offering, not that our travel agent, Lily, was forcing me to take other people’s personal documents into my own hands. I told him that he’d only said “she” and he said that because he’d said my name, then the “she” obviously meant me. I said it did not, and then he claimed that the message he left was “Lily called us and said our passports and visas are ready to be picked up. And Cindy called, and asked me to call you guys to see if you want Cindy to pick up your passports as well.” I KNOW he didn’t say THAT. Cuz as soon as he said “she” in the first version I had typed up there, I winced. It’s the editor and writer (and copywriter) in me.

And then Mr. W characterized this dispute as a “fight”, and complained that we “fight every day” about stuff like this. I asked for other examples. He brought up the day before while we were having dinner with Vanessa, and the day before that when he and I were watching Ally McBeal.
The dinner dispute was when Vanessa and I were talking about weight loss and dieting, and Mr. W interjected, “I’m coming back at like 210, 215 now.” Both she and I thought he was saying he’d gained 20, 25 lbs recently, and then I realized that he meant he’s coming back from the GYM at his lunchtime workouts at 2:10p, 2:15p now instead of the regular time when lunch is over. So I explained that to her and he was lost and I told him that Vanessa and I were on the same page, confirmed that with Vanessa, and that was the end of that. He called that a “fight”? The Ally McBeal thing was because we thought we may have been viewing the 4 episodes in the wrong order on the DVD, since the episode names weren’t displayed in a list, they were displayed in a block of 4, so we didn’t know whether we were supposed to go from the left top episode to the right, or straight down. We picked one, and there was a scene where Ally was making reference to all the strange guys who’d asked her out that week and she talked about some fat guy or strange event that we hadn’t seen in a prior episode, so Mr. W said something to the effect of, “See? We did skip something cuz we never saw that happen.” There was another place where he made a similar comment. But later, he denied ever even thinking that we may have viewed the episodes in the wrong order or that we may have skipped an episode, which is still confusing to me, but we went back and forth with me saying, “But you mentioned it TWICE!”. But anyway, his dramatic overcharacterization of those 2 disputes as “daily fighting” offended me yesterday evening and I’ve been irritated ever since.

I know fights, I’ve been in fights. I’ve fought when some sleezeball treated me like crap and told me it was my problem if I didn’t like it. I’ve fought when I was cheated on and lied to. I’ve fought when someone twisted something my mother said and published it to brag to his deluded friends. But I’d never fought physically or thrown things. And I know of Mr. W’s past fights with women he said had “volatile tempers”, who cheated on him, who screwed him over, who had psycho fits over stupid things like going thru his personal stuff and finding something he owned that they didn’t like. Women who had neighbors call the police on them for screaming and cussing and physically fighting with their men on the streets outside their homes. And he wants to lump ME into dramatics like that?! You’d think he’d know the difference.

I’m actually dizzy and lightheaded right now, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so irritated about all this, or because I couldn’t sleep all night from being bothered by this. Maybe I’m overindulging in his fatalistic, dramatic outlooks, and maybe it’s cuz I’m PMSing. But I hate, hate being wronged and I feel wronged often in this relationship. Who cares if his friends misunderstood his message? They could probably pick up the meaning through context if they had half a brain cell. I was just pointing out that it sounded convoluted, it’s not a stupid fight. (When I went to pick up the passports, by the way, travel agent Lily mentioned that the “friends” had picked up their passports that morning already, so now the friends can feel bad when they hear the message that we offered and they didn’t.)

This is me stuffing my face yesterday as I waddled from one location to another. PMS much?

Mint chocolate cookie Pria bar (110 cals)…whilst putting gas in the car paying an insulting $3.07/gal for 87 grade gas
1 package chocolate Carnation Instant Breakfast mixed into 2 cups of soy milk (130+200)…at Mr. W’s whilst waiting for him to get ready for the car dealership (maintenance on his Prius)
1/2 fresh-out-the-oven ham & cheese stuffed croissant and 1/2 grilled chicken sandwich, plus iced honey chrysanthemum tea drink…lunch at Lee’s Sandwiches whilst waiting for car to be done
1 small cup (2 scoops) taro ice cream…dessert from Lee’s Sandwiches (no, it did not taste like frozen poi. Poi isn’t sweetened.)
1/2 caramel, dark chocolate and almonds candied apple…from Marceline’s Confectionery at Downtown Disney
1 caramel apple martini…at the UVA Bar, Downtown Disney, after completion of candied apple munching
1 huge steak-sized cut of Cajun-seared rare Ahi tuna, 2 strips of grilled zucchini, 4 pieces baked pita bread with hummus…at Malibu Fish Grill in Santa Ana
1 pink grapefruit…whilst watching Happy Feet

I woke up this morning feeling…eeewwwww! Uuuuuggggghhhh! I had to jump in the shower right away to wash out the excessive calories. (Don’t you wish it were that easy?) Mr. W was already up and about, making himself coffee, listening to his audiobook on his MP3 player, sunning on the patio. “Hey!” he said as he saw me stagger out the hall with hair in my face. He hugged me and I leaned my drippy head against his chest. “You took a shower?”
“No,” I said from within the muffled hair.
“Then’s why’s your hair wet?” he asked.
“Sweat,” I explained.
“You little shit,” he laughed. “Don’t lie to me!”
From within the hair: “Don’t call me a little shit! You big shit! You chunk of diarrhea!”

And then I thought about why I feel so shitty. So I came to blog it all out so I can see it here in black and white. Oh, here it is. Blech.

Mel posted a reference to a Newsweek article that cites a study finding that exercise actually promotes neurogenesis. You can read her inspiring post here. I’ve been on this personal mission to get people around me to get healthy, eat better, exercise more, and a lot of people have taken me up on it. It’s not just about longevity, it’s about have a better quality of life while still alive. And now we find that exercise actually makes you SMARTER, too! Okay, I admit that my “mission” isn’t all charity — it’s selfish, too. I want my friends and loved ones around longer so they’d be around to hear me bitch and moan when I’m having a bad day. And take me out for some fun. And sushi. And for that, they get to live longer and healthier. We all win.

This study, of course, supports the theory that the gym is a great place to pick up. Not just weights, but dates. It also shoots down at least in part the stereotype that gym rats are meatheads who go around grunting because that’s all their tiny over-muscled heads are capable of processing in the way of social interaction and conscious thought.

Last weekend, Mr. W and I had dim sum with his friend. We’ll call him John because that’s a totally generic name and because that’s actually his name. John brought his new girlfriend whom neither Mr. W nor I had met until that day, and the four of us had some interesting conversations over brunch. Monday or Tuesday, I got a call at work from Mr. W. “John was just here,” he said, “And he told me, ‘Cindy’s really smart! You can tell by just 5 minutes of talking to her! I bet she keeps you on your toes!’ And I told him, ‘Yeah, she is really smart, and in spite of my many years of living and life experience over hers, I still learn new things from her every day.’ ” Awwww, isn’t that sweet? And here I thought I was being acknowledged and complimented on about my cognitive functions, when in actuality, I was being praised for my dedication toward exercise!

P.S. Today is a court holiday – Caesar (thanks Wilco) Chavez Day. I’m not able to list his accomplishments off the top of my head, but if the County says he’s important, who am I to dispute? So to all you non-County workers, *putting fingers behind ears and waving them at you* Nyanny nyanny nyah nyah!! Pttthhhh!!!

I had a cRaZy day! I’m taking a break from 5 very complicated sentencings to say hello out there to my blogger friends. I’ve got 2 more civil harassment cases to finish up.

Tonight is James’ belated birthday shindig. The weather turned unexpectedly very nice in Southern California today, so we’re gonna grab seats in the giant outdoors patio at Taps Brewery. (It was blue skies and sunshine when I left for the gym at lunch yesterday, but by the time we left the gym, there was a hurricane alert, it was dark and gray and pouring rain sideways in the wind. Leaves, twigs, and pine needles were flying sideways like a brown blizzard. My gym trainee had to throw her body weight against the gym door to open it into the wind, and we almost got blown over when we stepped out. Rain pelted me sideways in the wind so hard that I felt each individual drop, and I was drenched on the right side but not on the left. “Dang! Are we in Oz?” my trainee exclaimed.) The patio has heat lamps and 2 oversized fireplaces, so even if it gets cold we should be fine. Vanessa and I are gonna pick James up at 7:40p for meeting everyone at 8p. That way he can drink to his little heart’s delight. Actually, I can, too. Vanessa can’t, though. Haha. That’s the price of being a good friend, I guess. After we present him with his basket o’ loot, I’ll let you guys guess as to what you think each of the clues referred to, and I’ll give the answers.

I didn’t get to work out at lunch today since I attended a coworker’s retirement banquet instead. Great food! I got to bring Mr. W along as a guest date. That was fun. Obviously I can’t work out late tonight, either, so I’m busting my hump to finish my work and go straight to the gym. The most effective workout I can think of in a small amount of time is running the treadmill, so I’m gonna aim for at least a 3-mile run. As long as I can grab a treadmill, it doesn’t matter how busy the gym is after work hours today. *crossing fingers*

I seem to be insanely absent-minded lately. Earlier in the week, I forgot to put my earrings on after the gym at lunch, and they were dangling on some mesh outside of my gym bag, and by the time I remembered and went to look for the earrings, one was gone. The next day I asked the gym lost-and-found, but no one had turned them in. 🙁 It’s one of my favorite pairs. Actually, I think it IS my favorite pair. It’s a cone-shaped silver dangle with the Celtic trinity knot all over and under it. *sniffle* On the same day I lost the earring, I’d also lost my ID badge, which I wear clipped to the outside of my suit. I know I had it on when I walked from the parking structure to the courthouse, but somehow it disappeared after that. I luckily found it later on the floor of the parking structure. This morning, after stepping out of the shower, I realized I should cut my nails. As I was pressed for time, I cut my right index fingernail first since that’s the finger I use to put on my liquid foundation. I was gonna let the foundation set for 60 seconds (it’s the Revlon Colorstay sets-in-60-seconds foundation) as I was clipping my other fingernails, but after I applied the foundation, I totally forgot to finish clipping my nails so right now I have 9 longish fingernails and 1 short one. Seriously, what is WRONG with me lately? I hope I remember to pick up James tonight.

But no matter how “off” I am this week, at least I didn’t make the dumb decision that one of our defendants was sentenced for today. He went to a salon and got a haircut, asked for recommendations on hair products, brought those to the counter, and instead of paying for the haircut and products, he pulled a gun and stole them as well as the lady’s purse. He probably “saved” about $50 on that spree, but because this is his 2nd strike and he’d used a gun, he was sentenced to 21 years in state prison for that conviction. Score! (Gun enhancements by California law adds 10 years, and 2nd strike doubles the sentence he would’ve gotten for the original count.) He’s only 28, so he’d be in his late 40s when he gets out. My bailiff pointed out to him, “Hey, you’ll be about my age when you get out. There’s still a lot of life left at that age.” The defendant asked my bailiff, really concerned-like, “Do you still have sex?” My bailiff laughed and exclaimed, “ALL the time!” The guy looked relieved.

Okay, back to work. That was a nice little 20 minute break.

When I was a lot younger (like in junior high), my mom told me that the human mind is a remarkable thing. “Have you noticed,” she said, “When you’re asleep and you really have to pee, in your dreams you will run into all kinds of problems in finding a toilet, so you CAN’T pee? Like you can’t find a bathroom. Or when you finally could, all the stalls are taken and there’s a huge line. When you finally find a stall that’s empty, turns out the door’s jammed and you can’t get in. And then the toilet seat cover won’t come up. All sorts of bizarre things will happen to prevent you from peeing because your brain, on some level, knows that you are really asleep so it won’t let you pee.”

I told her that I’d never dreamt I had to pee urgently, because if I had to pee that badly, I’d wake up and run to the bathroom and pee. She said, “Watch, one day you’re gonna have a dream like that and notice that.”

Very soon thereafter, I was indeed asleep when I had to pee. But my dream immediately opened up with me already ON the toilet seat, pants down, ready to pee. I thought, “I shouldn’t pee, I should wake up.” And then I remembered what my mom said. “Oh, wait. I’m not gonna be ABLE to pee. Let’s see what happens in the dream if I’m not able to pee.” So I relaxed and pushed a little.

And wet my bed.

I woke up in a huff as soon as the first drops hit and angrily stormed off into the bathroom to clean myself. And to pee. My mom lost some credibility that night.