Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Frustration is a frustrating mistress.

I'm frustrated right now. It's taking WAY too long to get a copyedited ms back from Yon Agent, and I'm starting to fear that it'll never get published. It's a tough sell to start with, but it's got to be ready to go. I'm supposed to be working on other books, but, I dunno. I have no time, my energy is all wrapped up in other projects (nearly finished, thank Elvis), and I'm generally just ready to rip my hair out and scream.

Compounding this is a medically necessary decision to get healthier. I've started seeing a pain specialist, and she told me to start exercising regularly or else. My weight isn't good for my joints OR muscles, both of which are damaged by SLE and/or FMS, and I need to simply move more. Hence, I've joined a gym near my day job. It's a nice place with a varied clientèle, one of my best friends is a member, and a few of my coworkers joined, so I've got people to work out with. I feel better for it and (an increase in my Lyrica dosage), but, well, my diet has to change, too. Aye, there's the rub.

I was vegan for seven years. Apart from a general lack of EFA's, it was the best eating plan for my body, and it worked wonders on my health AND my weight. (For me, a US size 10 is scrawny. I have a frame like a linebacker and the muscles to match. If I were an athlete, I'd totally be a power lifter.) Wasband (the ex) pressured me to relax to lacto-ovo/pescetarianism. The added fish was a good thing, and the eggs were neutral. The milk, though.... Cow's milk does a number on me. We don't know why, but it makes me hurt liek woah and feel like I'm thinking through wet cotton. Hence, I'm moving to primary veganism, which means that I'll occasionally hit the sushi bar or order an omelet when I'm out.

I'm on day three. My body is fiercely unhappy. Veganism is often a low-fat diet, and my body demands fat. Not saturated, but mono- and polyunsaturated. I could probably live on avocados, given my weird metabolism. Alas, I have very little vegan fat in the house, and I'm not about to chug a bottle of olive oil. Part of me is simply pondering the possibility of a parve diet--vegetables, grains, legumes, fruit, eggs, and fish (plus shellfish, 'cause I'm totally not kosher), but no dairy or meat. I might end up relaxing to that at some point in future. For now, though, I'm mostly vegan.

Blah. Going to lay down with I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings for a while. I'm just past the part where Daddy Clidell's friends were teaching Maya/Marguerite how not to get taken, and the long con with the jerk in Tulsa. I can't help but think that, given their target, that group of men were a collective Robin Hood. Granted, they didn't say anything about giving to the poor, but they certainly showed a racist twit the other end of the con game.

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