On smoking, food, and "getting fat".

Yesterday, Jezebel ran a post called "French Women Smoke to Remain Thin at All Costs." It, as the title would suggest, examines the relationship between the rate of young(er) women in France smoking cigarettes and their desire to remain desirably thin. Looking to unpack the social pressures placed on women to be thin, it calls for less judgment on body size/perceived "fatness" in hopes that women will feel more comfortable with their bodies and, in turn, quit smoking.

It was a decent article.

And of course, the comments derailed the goodness of the article.* One, in particular, stuck out at me. User lizae writes:

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So I guess if I spend next spring in Paris I need to add "I'd rather be fat than have cancer" to my French phrase repertoire.

But would you, really? If you would, than kudos to you, miss. For some of us, it's a little more complicated than that. For what it's worth, I didn't start smoking to lose weight or stay at a particular weight, or anything even remotely like that. I started because everyone in Korea smokes, and that was just the way it was. (PSA: Kids! Don't befriend Eastern Europeans, you'll learn how to hold your liquor and blow smoke rings!)

But now that I'm a smoker? Well, quitting is going to take some serious planning and consideration, and you can bet your ass that weight gain factors into it. Earlier this year, I put on 22 pounds due to a change in medication. Only recently, have I started getting it to come off. The idea that quitting smoking - regardless of increased exercise - could cause me to gain some (or all) of it back is terrifying.

But let's talk about the underlying causes for a minute, shall we? I am lucky to be a relationship where there is no pressure for me to be skinny. He's loved me when I was a little on the chunkier side, and he's loved me when I wound up a little unfortunately emaciated. (Here's another tip, if you are even remotely competitive/inclined to food-related neuroses, do not under any circumstances, make work-out buddies with someone who has been diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder.)

But that's part of the problem. He and I, and a group of our friends love to eat together. Cooking en masse, we can eat a huge dinner (allegedly with leftovers) for three bucks a person. But there are never leftovers and these people act like vegetables are some strange biproduct corn-fed beef. (Well...we could debate that.) So it's hard to work on my own weight/image issues and still keep up my typical social eating schedule.

So I had a melt-down: My clothes don't fit! I have no money to buy new clothes! My stomach conditions require a diet with fiber! And I'm supposed to watch my sugar intake! I can't hang out with you people if you're only going to feed me transfats and refined carbohydrates!

It was epic, and I did it at 6:30 in the morning before work.

A little melodramatic? Absolutely...but I think the message got across. We've started incorporating vegetables (cheap vegetables, but vegetables nonetheless) into the repertoire. We play frisbee while the grill heats up, or walk to the pool hall instead of driving. There are talks about going to the batting cages. And, as it turns out, I wasn't the only one uncomfortable with what we've been eating.

To get back to my original point, I'm working on my weight through diet and exercise and I'll quit when I'm ready.

...Whenever that is.

*I love Jezebel, and I think it really is a great, judgment-free community. Unless of course, they're talking about a subject that it's "okay" to judge: like smokers, parents with large strollers and Taylor Swift.