In The Ladies' Room: Girls and Dolls

Injury-prone TNG Events Planner Amelie submits this post.



Sadly, as much as I hate to disappoint my public, In The Ladies' Room is on hiatus this week as I'm currently in a hotel room hopped up on goof balls recovering from my third ACL/meniscus repair. So, given my current state, putting together an entire column this week isn't really feasible. Well, technically it would be feasible, but not necessarily desirable.

But stay tuned for next week, when I will regale you with tales of what happens when you spend a week in a hotel room with a mom who's in denial, a thirteen year-old-sister who likes to make the word "GAY" when you play Scrabble, and your girlfriend who's meeting the family for the first time.

And if you happen to be curious about what has been happening on The View all week, I can fill you in on that too (they've been in DISNEYLAND!).

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Lesbian Services Program Update

This post was submitted by Dawn Boutelle, Operations Manager at the Whitman Walker Clinic.

It has been a couple months since an LSP Update has been sent out. As you all know from information given on the LSP update and through the press, WWC has gone through some major changes in the last year. The administrative buildings at 1407, which included the LSP building and the Food Bank, were sold and all staff at those properties have been consolidated into the Elizabeth Taylor Medical Center building, located at 1701 14thSt., NW, one block down from the old building. Due to the economy and a significant decrease in private fundraising, the Northern Virginia office and the Bridge Back program, our residential treatment program, will close by the end of March 2009. With all of the changes, we are working to incorporate the LSP information into the entire Clinic's outreach material to reach the greater community, making an LSP Update less necessary. Incorporating LSP programs and services into the Clinic as a whole is another step for WWC to continue to evolve into a high quality community health care center. However, from time to time, we may still send out information via the LSP Update list.

We have some exciting new peer support groups to tell you about, and we hope you will pass along the information to family, friends and colleagues. All the groups listed below the fold are Peer Facilitated Support Groups. Some we have had for a while, and some are new. There are groups below for everyone -- gay, straight, bi, and trans. Please pass them along!

Coming Out for Women
This 10-week discussion group starting in February is for women exploring their interest in other women. "Coming out" is not required but registration is. Please contact Dawn Boutelle at 202-797-3586 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

Coming Out for Men
This eight-week discussion group starting in April is for men exploring their interest in other men. "Coming out" is not required but registration is. Please contact Dawn Boutelle at 202-797-3586 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

Coming Out for Married Women
This ongoing discussion group is for married or divorced women, exploring their interest in other women. "Coming out" is not required but registration is. Please contact Dawn Boutelle at 202-797-3586 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

Coming Out GID
This BRAND NEW (Trans) Gender Identity Discussion Group is for persons exploring/questioning their own gender identity. Join us for support, and to share struggles and celebrations as it relates to your journey of gender discovery. This group is looking to start in April. Please contact Dawn Boutelle at 202-797-3586 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

Coming Out for Family & Friends of LBGT People
This eight-week discussion group is for people who have had someone close to them come out. The focus of this group is on healing bonds while still allowing a safe space to voice concerns. Please contact Dawn Boutelle at 202-797-3586 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

Separation Support for All People regardless of Gender Identity & Sexual Identity
This eight-week discussion group, starting the beginning of April, is for people whose long-term relationship has ended. The focus of this group is on healing and moving forward. Registration is required. Please contact Dawn Boutelle at 202-797-3586 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

HIV+ for Newly Diagnosed
This ongoing discussion group is for anyone newly diagnosed seeking a safe place to talk with others who are newly diagnosed. Please contact 202-939-7671 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

HIV+ for Longer Diagnosed
This ongoing discussion group is for anyone that has been diagnosed for a while and is seeking a safe place to talk with others. Please contact 202-939-7671 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

HIV+ for Women
This ongoing discussion group is for women who are positive and are seeking a safe place to talk with other positive women. Please contact 202-939-7671 or dboutelle@wwc.org to register.

Didn't see a group that interests you? We have others! Check out our site. There you will find a list of all our groups. Have a suggestion for a group for LGBT individuals? E-mail Dawn (dboutelle@wwc.org) with what you would like to see!

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Dear FDA, I'll just take my blood elsewhere

TNG reader J. Clarence Flanders submits this piece.

This morning I received an email from the college where I work that went out to everyone at the institution reminding them the school is hosting a blood drive, and encouraging us to donate blood if we could. In addition to reminding us about the event, the email went on to inform us of all the benefits to donating blood, such as the fact that each donation of blood goes on to save on average three lives. I tossed the email in the trash.

I remember in college I was told if I wanted to donate blood—which is a noble cause—that I should just lie about it, when they asked me if I had ever had sex with men. And I did, because I felt the nobility of the act outweighed the stupidity of the discrimination. But the nurse did not find a vein, so I ended up not giving blood anyway—which is good because I hate needles.

I left the university gym where the blood drive took place and decided then and there that I would never lie about it again, if the opportunity came up. It seemed ridiculous to me that in order to do the right thing I would have to lie about who I was to do it.

"If you're a gay male who has been in a monogamous relationship for 30 years, you're still considered a greater risk [to the blood pool] than if you're a promiscuous heterosexual who has had hundreds of partners for 30 years." —Mark Segal, editor of the Philadelphia Gay News

The above quote, which I found in an article on MSNBC's website, articulated my frustration with the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) policy perfectly. The policy, for those that don't know, says men who have sex with men since 1977 cannot donate blood, because they—we—are a high risk demographic. And while that is true, sadly, such a blanket policy only perpetuates the ideology that, according to David Hauslaib of Queerty In-Depth and quoted in the MSNBC article, sees "gay men as walking AIDS incubators."

With the rates as high as they are for queer men of color, I am fortunate not to have contracted HIV or any other STI. It isn't a fact that I gloat about, but it is something I am grateful for (partly because I have a hard time swallowing pills, so the idea of a medicine cocktail does not sit well at all). So I find it extremely insulting and frustrating that in the eyes of the FDA I am assumed to have an illness, even though they test the blood anyway.

Not to mention the sheer fact of (heterosexual) privilege that exists for a straight man, who could very well be a contemporary Casanova, with as many sexual partners as stars in the heavens, and still walk up and give blood, no questions asked (besides the myriad of questions about recent vacation spots, body art, drug use, etc.). They are given the benefit-of-doubt with regard to their status.

Somehow the FDA managed to scramble up enough shaky logic to say they are not being discriminatory with a straight face, by stating the fact that people who have used intravenous drugs or been paid for sex are also excluded. However, that just infuriates me more because it now puts me in a demographic of people with whom I have absolutely nothing in common, not to mention those are actual actions that have been committed rather than actions assumed on the part of the individual.

I know of other queer people who have gone about this more constructively than I have. Many of them volunteer to man the tables or get the food, or in some cases just lie because they know what the policy is for and know that they do not have the virus. I, however, am sick and tired of being sick and tired when it comes to this issue, because this is outright discrimination based on the assumption that gay people as a given are more connected to the virus than others. And that kind of ideology is exactly what stalled treatment when the epidemic first broke out.

At best, the FDA is trying to keep the public safe by employing the "justifiable discrimination" routine. At worst, we have a case of a federal agency exercising undue influence in continuing an ideology based in past hysteria about AIDS.

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Dear Belly

Dear Belly,

We need to talk. I realize that we are getting a little older, but I’m a little disappointed in your inability to bounce back. In the past, I was able to consume just about anything without seeing sign of it around my mid-section. Lately, that hasn’t been the case.

I realize that you may be trying to tell me that I’m not pulling my weight, so to speak, and that I should spend more time in the gym and less time on the couch with my bf eating cheese and drinking wine. Consider the message received. Granted, you still look pretty good, but I wanted to have this talk with you, just so that we’re on the same page. I was at yoga the other day and noticed that you weren’t anywhere near the shape you were in two years ago. I hate to say it, but you looked almost...pear shaped. Also, I just switched our gym from the one downtown (the one with all the straight people and burnt out 9-5 types) to the awesome new Vida gym on P Street, whose predominately gay customers make me feel like we’ve been a little lazy. This concerns me, belly, so I want to make sure you understand that if I’m going to take it up a notch, you need to do so as well.

I really want us to grow older with grace, and come to an acceptance of slowing metabolism and the foolishness of tying our identity and worth to a fleeting aesthetic standard that no man can ever fully maintain. We’re better than this, and I’m willing to work with you to transition well, despite the pressure of our community. That being said, I think we can do great things, belly. I want us to run, jump, and have great sex for a long time to come, and do it to the standard I have set for us. The last thing that I want is for you to bottle up hard feelings, and at some point just give up and become like those other bellies that I see on so many other guys. Nothing against those other bellies (they might be quite happy), but I know what you’re capable of, and I want you to reach your full potential. You will be much happier, trust me.

I’m glad we had this talk.

Best,
Ben

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Kick The Habit

Even Barack has trouble kicking the habit.

I’ve previously detailed my struggle with smoking. Since Christmas week, I’ve been taking Chantix, a prescription drug that blocks dopamine receptors and extinguishes the desire to smoke. It has a nearly 50% success rate for those who take the drug for six months (many stop their prescription prior to six months, thinking they have beaten it, but those people have a lower success rate).

So far, so good. The drug makes me naseous sometimes, and my dreams are more vivid, but if you eat prior to taking the pill (and take it consistently over time), the side effects seem to lessen. I was concerned when I heard about the dream side-effects because I have recurring nightmares about Oprah, wherein she hates me more and more each time I dream about her (sometimes she cries and tries to guilt me), but I’m pleased to report that with the exception of one dream where I felt someone eating my foot (pulled back the covers…..Oprah), the dreams have been manageable (she was only nibbling). However, I will warn you that the nausea can be bad at times, particularly if you try to smoke.

I’ve tried everything short of acupuncture, so Chantix feels like the nuclear option. I’m hopeful, and feel strong in my conviction to quit. For those of you out there who are similarly struggling to quit as part of your resolution, you may want to consider it.

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Shadowboxing with HIV

I distinctly remember, when I was nine years old, stumbling across an article in my parents' Newsweek magazine. It was about a recently discovered disease that was infecting gay people, destroying their immune systems, and then leaving them to die with no defenses. If I remember correctly, I later found out that this article was the US mainstream media's first coverage of HIV or AIDS ever. Of course, it was the Reagan administration and the rest of the world was worried about the Cold War. Any other kid probably wouldn't have even bothered reading this article, but I read it very intently. Feverishly. See, I knew already at that age that I was gay. I didn't know yet what it meant or how it would shape my life, but I knew it. And then I read this article, and I made a earth-shattering realization: This is how I'm going to die.

Fast-forward 11 years. At 20 years old, I had my first sexual experience with a guy. It was a hot night during my first summer in DC. I went to my first gay bar with a out-and-proud gay friend. I met a guy, and my friend "got lost" without me suggesting or wanting him to. The guy came on strong, got me drunk, got me drunker, and then walked me home where he invested about 20 minutes sitting on the steps of my O St. NW house with me, trying various techniques to convince me to invite him in. Eventually, I succumbed. I'll spare you the details, but just know that we didn't do anything "risky" but between the time he came in and the time he left the next morning, he gave me reason to doubt his trustworthiness. A few days later, a mutual acquaintance of both of ours happened to stop by the group house I was living in. Soon after her arrival, she asked to speak with me alone in the kitchen, where she disclosed to me that she knew that I'd been with "John" and that she knew that John's ex-boyfriend was positive and had gotten it from John.

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

She tried to reassure me, saying that she was sure that I hadn't done anything that would have put me in trouble, but that I should just be careful in the future.

I tried to fight back the initial wave of adrenaline and anxiety that uncontrollably welled up inside me. I told her that, no, we hadn't done anything unsafe, and that I appreciated her telling me. I think I stayed up a bit later that night, watching TV to keep my mind away from what would soon become an all-too familiar pattern: thoughts cycling over and over again around the fact that, true to my earlier prediction, I was going to die of AIDS.

This is how it started. The next three months were filled with sleepless nights, or nights when I'd cry myself to sleep, or 2 AM phone calls to the HIV/AIDS hotline where they'd refuse to tell me the one thing I needed to hear, that I was going to be okay.

The process was always the same: whenever I had a few spare moments of undistracted thought, I'd replay a flip-book version of my experience over in my head, and with a feeling of a spike through my chest, adrenaline-laced anxiety would shoot through me as I imagined all the opportunities where his blood, semen or saliva could have gotten into my blood stream. I honestly couldn't find any, so I started making them up, convinced that, for example, he'd bitten his finger to draw blood and infected me with it.

This thought pattern continued to visit me multiple times per day for months and months. I'd waste 20 minutes at a time staring at the wall frozen by fear and anxiety. I started seeing a therapist. I took transcendental meditation classes. I invented meditative visualizations, picturing microscopic fishes swimming through my veins, gobbling up viruses and cleaning my blood. I started praying to God for help, a God that I'd convinced myself years earlier didn't exist. Nightly prayers were followed by a gentle, unvoiced plea, "Clean my body and heal my soul," repeated over and over until I found the peace of mind to fall asleep.

I got my first HIV test three months after my first and so-far only encounter. Negative. A weight was lifted. Sleep returned effortlessly. I started to thaw as a person. I could again focus on schoolwork and friendships. I was reborn, free and clear.

About a year later, I was in the first few months of my first real relationship. A good friend of mine had turned into the third guy I'd ever been with and subsequently into a boyfriend. Almost as soon as we began getting intimate with each other, the feeling started coming back. I started to convince myself that I was indeed infected with HIV and that I was going to give it to my new boyfriend. It started only as notions at first, but when I got the flu and was home sick for 3 days, I started to get really worried. I knew that I hadn't gotten anything from John, but worried that maybe worrying about having HIV could actually give it to you. Or that maybe it could be spontaneously created through gay sex. My boyfriend tried to attend to my needs, but they were greater than I was prepared to share with him. Finally, I told him, through a veil of tears, what I was so afraid of. I told him the whole story, and his reaction? He told me I had nothing to worry about. He said that we could go get tested together once I'd gotten over the flu. We did: negative and negative. But that's not the end of the story.

I've had several other bouts with HIV anxiety since these experiences, over the span of 10 additional years. Never have I had any rational reason to fear that I was genuinely infected. But my rational brain could not convince my emotional brain that I had nothing to worry about. What was really going on here? Is this fear simply Catholic guilt dressed in HIV's clothing? Or is my emotional brain trying to resolve a deep-seated fear that began back in 1983 when a nine- year-old in his pajamas convinced himself that he was destined to die young of a sexually transmitted virus?

I know I'm not the only one who has problems with anxiety related to HIV. The internet is filled with stories of HIV anxiety and HIV phobia. While the answer to solving the HIV/AIDS crisis is difficult and costly, it appears there's another epidemic that, while more prevalent and spreading more quickly, may be easier to cure: fear and anxiety of HIV-negative people who are convinced that the've contracted the virus. Is this the fault of over-zealous health educators trying to scare kids into having safer sex? Or the human brain's natural tendency to fear the worst possible outcome? Has my personal experience with HIV anxiety caused me irreparable damage, or saved my life?

For anyone out there currently experiencing HIV anxiety, please remember the following:

• Your partner must be HIV+ to transmit the virus.
  
• The virus is present in the blood, semen, vaginal fluid, and breast milk of an HIV-infected individual
• The virus must enter your bloodstream through a cut or abrasion, or through some mucus membranes.
  
• Though HIV infection can occur via oral sex, it's often associated with poor oral hygiene and bleeding gums.

(Please note, while it's true that much HIV anxiety is irrational, you'll give yourself one fewer thing to irrationally worry about if condoms are always used during anal sex with a partner of unknown status. When in doubt*, roll it on.)

If you are worrying about possible HIV infection and none of the above criteria are met, please seek counseling. There's absolutely no reason to go through life riddled with anxiety for no good reason. If you need someone to talk with about our fears and anxiety over HIV, please don't hesitate to email me: michael@thenewgay.net.

* Clarification, 1/8/09, 2:55 PM: Meaning, unless you're monogamous and get tested together...

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HIV/AIDS Working Group to Meet January 28th

From David Mariner at the DC Center.

The DC Center invites all interested individuals and organizations to join us at the table for our first meeting of the Gay, Bi, and Trans HIV/AIDS Working Group.

The DC Center and SMYAL recently organized the HIV/AIDS Town Hall: Listen, Gay Men in Their Twenties Talk About Their Lives, Their Futures, and the HIV/AIDS Epidemic in DC.

Building on this effort, this working group will provide a place for us to come together and plan concrete steps to address the HIV/AIDS epidemic among gay, bisexual, and transgender men in the District of Columbia.

Please join us Wednesday January 28th at 7:00 PM at The DC Center, 1111 14th St NW Suite 350.

We've also set up a new e-mail list for this work.

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Starving for Acceptance: Gay Men & Eating Disorders Part 2

Jason Dilts lives in Wichita, Kansas and is a graduate of Wichita State University, who is pondering his next move in life. He loves his life as a single gay man and enjoys spending quality time with his amazing friends. In part two of his story, he discusses his recovery from Anorexia. In part one, he explored his descent into the disease.

Something needed to be done. I was literally fading away. Ironically, the more weight I lost, the more I hated my life. I thought being thin would make me happy, but missing meals, losing sleep, and ducking social engagements for fear of slipping up and eating something "bad" had made my life miserable. I knew I had a problem that couldn't be excused any longer by my former size or allowed to be encouraged by social accolades or psychotic fringe websites.

I finally realized none of what I was doing was worth the cost of my own life. If I had to go to these extreme measures for a boyfriend, I decided that I'd rather be alone.

It was a long, arduous process to get back to "normal." I sought counseling, though I had to practically pull teeth to find a qualified therapist who wasn't overloaded and was willing to take on a male client. Once I did, my insurance provider informed me that my visits wouldn't be covered because my therapist wasn't in their network. They didn't seem to care that she was the only therapist in town I could get in to see. Despite this battle, though, I was determined to beat this disease.

I found a friend who helped me do this. That friend was feminism.

In college I had grown to strongly identify with the feminist values of self-determination, acceptance, and personal empowerment. I was also keenly aware that how we act and behave as men and women was determined, to at least some degree, by the culture at-large. Left unchecked and unexamined, our lives could end up being mere stereotypes. I framed my value system around feminism, which may seem odd for a gay man to do. For me, it just seemed natural. How could I not identify with an ideology that fully accepted me as a person and adamantly encouraged me to live life on my own terms?

I was a full-on feminist in every sense of the word – Save one. My unrelenting best friend, who always kept me in check, fiercely and consistently pointed out how hypocritical I was being in obsessing over my body. One day she put her foot down. She demanded that I sit and not get up until I had read an essay titled The Body Politic in an anthology of writings by third-wave feminists called Listen Up: Voices from the Next Feminist Generation. I acquiesced, annoyed. I was never the same.

The author's words left an indelible imprint on my soul. The confession of the author’s self-induced corporal abuse and the conflicts it created with her own value system were a haunting parallel to my own life. She had convinced herself, like me, that she had no problem. She too found empowerment in her thin obsession. Eventually, though, she had to face reality. By the time I was done reading the essay, I knew I had to face reality as well. Her words were like a splash of cold water waking me up from a deep sleep. I felt her spirit reaching through the pages and shaking me, urging me to wake up. In that moment, feminism saved my life.

In the end, it was my own determination that allowed me to take back control of my body. I had to spend a lot of uncomfortable days forcing myself to eat. I had to alter my exercise routine. I had to dig deep inside my psyche to understand that the root of my problems didn't stem from how much body fat I measured, but rather how much self-esteem I had. I had to come to the realization that there is a lot more to me than a number on a scale. I needed to get over my single complex. Anyone who was interested in me solely because I was thin wasn't worth having in my life. Most importantly, I had to accept that I was good enough alone, and that I didn't need another person to complete me. I had to amble my way back to myself.

I still struggle a bit with body issues, but thankfully, my eating and exercising habits have become normal. I'm able to eat food again – and enjoy it! Exercise is something I do more for being healthy than for losing weight. I'm learning to accept the fact that I may never have a six-pack and zero body fat. I'm also accepting that who I am is more important than how I look. I'm realizing that for anyone to be attracted to me, they need to be attracted to the me that is inside.

I also realize, though, that the issues that lead me to having an eating disorder are much larger than me and bigger than my own story. At one point in Travis Mathews' film, "Do I Look Fat," the interviewer talks with the owner of a Castro Street diet pill store. He pointedly asks the owner how he feels about his customers who abuse the pills and go to extremes to seek out the perfect body.

Gleefully, the straight male owner responds that he loves it, explaining that he set up shop in the Castro just to attract business from gay men known to be obsessed with their looks. Their desire for perfection keeps the cash coming in for him, and he surmises it's a good thing for everyone. Gays get to be beautiful, he gets to be rich. This sentiment sheds light on the fact that we've been caught in a corporate matrix. Just about every industry in the business of selling body-related products doesn't mind exploiting the damages society causes that mortally wound our self-esteem. This fight is not merely a personal battle; it's gotten downright political.

If we’re always at the gym trying to transform our bodies into images of perfection, we’re not out in the real world, showing straight people images of our own humanity. If we have two hour daily work out regiments, we likely don’t have time to fight for social justice within our own community. That’s exactly where some people want us, too! They want us to perpetuate self-defeating behaviors. They want us destroying ourselves -- and by extension, our own community -- so that we won’t be able to challenge their homophobic notions. They would rather we fade away than rise up.

It's time we shed light on it, and shattering the silence is the first step. We need more movies, books, and articles where people tell their stories. Mathews' movie is a great leap forward in this dialogue. We have to rectify the misnomer that an eating disorder is a woman's issue only. It's a gay issue, too! We also have to understand the intersections between gender and sexuality that pre-disposition gay men to be more vulnerable when it comes to body image issues. We also need to demand that more professional research be done on gay men and eating disorders and that more work go in to identifying root causes. We need to present alternative images of gay male beauty and sexual attractiveness. We need to put pressure on the gay media to show more diversity in what is presented to be the modern gay male.

Finally, we need to just accept ourselves. We can’t expect straight society to embrace us when we’re full of self-loathing.

It took a lot of sweating, starvation, and soul searching for me to get there. Maybe if more people take steps to expose these realities, people's thoughts on eating disorders won't be limited to images of Mary Kate Olsen's size 0 dress and Tracey Gold's vomit jars. They can be expanded to help empower all people who suffer from the grueling uncomfortability of starving for acceptance.

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Whitman-Walker

Monday's Washington Post featured an article about the closing of Whitman-Walker's S street location:

Hundreds who walked through the doors of the building in the 1980s and 1990s died. And then hundreds more began to live.

If a physical space can capture the arc of an epidemic, the Whitman-Walker Clinic, at the corner of 14th and S streets, occupied the front lines of AIDS in Washington for 21 years. It was there when the average life expectancy for someone with AIDS was two years, and it was there when new drugs became available that made HIV infection a manageable disease to live with.

Staff Writer Anne Hull produced a powerful piece of writing, and a revealing glimpse into our already (to many) hidden history. It's a shame, but I never think of councilman Jim Graham in the context of his work as Executive Director of Whitman-Walker, nor do I often think about gay life as it was in this city during the 80s. As I think of the smiling faces and soaring spirits of my friends, it's sobering to think that if we were all living 25 years prior, many of us would be dead, and the rest of us would spend our weekends attending funerals. We can only wonder where we would be as a community if our urban ghettos had not lost so much talent and energy. They could have pioneered much of the ground we now travel.

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Starving for Acceptance: Gay Men & Eating Disorders -- Part 1

Jason Dilts lives in Wichita, Kansas and is a graduate of Wichita State University, who is pondering his next move in life. He loves his life as a single gay man and enjoys spending quality time with his amazing friends. In part one of his story, he explores his descent into Anorexia. In part two, he will discuss his recovery.

The idea of extreme dietary self-restriction is likely to conjure up images of bony, thin girls. Some may remember that waify girl from high school who never ate during lunch. Many will recall that friend from college who couldn't stop exercising. Others may think of famous thin-obsessed celebrities like Mary Kate Olsen or Nicole Richie who have proudly strutted their skeletal structures across the red carpet. A few may even recall that Lifetime movie with Tracey Gold where her character famously hid her jars of her own vomit inside a closet, only to later have them discovered by her shocked and bewildered mother. The one common thread is that when it comes to eating disorders, most people are predisposed to think of them as a female issue.

After a recent Google search, I was delighted to stumble on something that sheds light on this myth. Filmmaker Travis Mathews has pieced together an eye-opening documentary called “Do I Look Fat?”, and for once, it's not women who are being asked the question. It's gay men!

Mathews' movie stands out as one of the few pieces of media available for gay men looking to find other people who suffer from the shame of corporal self-loathing. The hour-long film documents the inner turmoil and strife eight gay men face and have faced with anorexia, bulimia, over-exercising, and other unhealthy manifestations of eating disorders giving a relatable, human face to an invisible issue.

It also explores the issue of how gender and hostility to all things female in our culture creates the perfect storm for gay men to develop eating disorders. Breaking it down into simple mathematical equations, one of the men points out that there is a mind-set that fat equals weak equals female and thin equals strong equals man. As I watched the movie, I was gratified to see other men step out of the closet of deep shame to discuss their own issues of uncomfortability with the mainstream gay male community's obsession with youth and beauty.

For so long, I felt I was the only one. The film's exposing of the ridiculous obsession gay men have with the "perfect" physique along with its feminist critique of eating disorders, reminded me of my own journey.

Rewinding back three years, I had convinced myself that the idea of my having an eating disorder was laughable. I had been overweight for most of my life. While not morbidly obese by any measure, losing some weight was not such a bad idea. However, I ended up losing more than just some weight and in the process, I nearly lost myself.

I don't think there was ever a time since adolescence when I felt good about my body, but there was definitely a day when I started to let this insecurity take control. It was the day I was told by a boy I was crushing on that he only dated really thin guys. I obviously wasn't one of those "really thin guys", but I was determined to somehow become one. I had never exercised a day in my life, but I soon ventured to the gym.

There, I found a seemingly magical contraption called the elliptical machine. Although it took a little while to get used to the demands that working out had on my body, I was soon peddling away an hour a day on it. There was a scale in the men's locker room, and I weighed myself religiously each day. The pounds were shedding off faster than I ever realized they could. For the first time, I felt in control of my looks. I started to feel more confident about my own body. So I thought, at least.

I was baffled that I could lose so much weight and still not have a single guy be interested in me, though. I thought my entire problem was that I was fat. After 12 months, I lost a third of my original body weight, but I surmised that I must have to lose more if I wanted a man to be attracted to me. I stopped eating normal meals, reducing my usual daily caloric intake to less than 1,000 calories. I exercised excruciatingly for hours every day, sometimes spending more than two hours daily at the gym. I was determined to do whatever it took to have some guy be attracted to me. All the while I convinced myself that I didn't have a problem. Someone who was medically classified as obese only one year earlier could never be anorexic. Plus, I was a guy. Men don't get eating disorders. I clung to the lie.

There's an entire culture that promulgates lies about our bodies. Our culture caters to eating disorders and aids in convincing people like me that their behavior isn't irrational or harmful. The brainwashing exists on several levels. For one, there's the mainstream heterosexual media that is obsessed with thinness. Nearly every image you see on TV, in magazines, or in movies is of a person with a thin and trimmed physique. Beyond the media, people in general are obsessed with losing weight. The minute I started losing weight, I received constant praise from people I ran into.

"Wow, you look amazing!"

"I don't even recognize you!"

"You look like a whole new person!"

These comments are understandable and even appropriate to a point. Even while I was wasting away, though, I was still receiving non-stop accolades from friends and acquaintances. I began to notice that our overweight society seemed to operate under the assumption that you can never be too thin.

There's another level on this issue in the culture, though, and it lies in the gay community. Eating disorders have become an almost normalized way of life, particularly among young gay men. The gay media constantly bombards us with images of men with washboard abs, burly muscles, and perfectly trimmed, circuit physiques. We see these in every gay magazine, in ads on every major gay website, and nearly every gay male character represented on television fits the image. It also translates into real life.

Though research is rare and often obscured, a 2007 study done by the Columbia University Mailman School of Public Health managed to get a little press. It found that gay and bisexual men have a higher-than-average risk for developing eating disorders. In a culture that often obsesses over youth and beauty, it's easy to see why. Their study found, though, that gay men who aren't identified with the "gay community" and aren't involved socially in a gay-oriented subculture are just as susceptible to having issues with eating. There could very well be an internalized aspect of self-loathing that manifests itself in this unhealthy way inside many gay men; I know there certainly was within myself.

Over time, I started to take pride in being anorexic. It felt like I had masterminded the ultimate coup, going from hideous and fat to emaciated and thin. I was in love with the sight of my rib cage. I felt empowered every time I could see a new bone. I felt a rush of pride each time my hips knocked up against the surface of a counter or desk and a ping of sharp pain consumed my body. The more it hurt, the better it was.

I was able to take pride in being anorexic in a way I was never able to take pride in being gay. Constant compliments, societal encouragement, and a whole world that caters to being thin contrasts deeply to the social retribution one typically faces when coming out of the closet. All of us want to be accepted, and after being rejected by society-at-large for being gay and by the gay community for not fitting the image of what a gay man is supposed to be, I felt I had finally found a comfortable lifestyle and identity.

While the new "lifestyle" I was living gave me a faux sense of empowerment, it also left me drained and exhausted. I had little time to actually enjoy my life. I also found that turning off one set of drives -- in this case hunger -- sets off a chain reaction that turns off other basic instincts as well. Ironically, after I set out to get thin so that my body would be more sexually appealing, I ended up having no sex drive at all. I reached a point where I wasn't even really sure why I continued the whole routine. It hadn't gotten me what I wanted, but I was scared to let it go. I needed a new perspective on life to jolt me out of my weakened state. Thankfully, I would soon find it…

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Boy Meets Pills

Mom and dad: If you're reading this, I promise I'm fine and I promise I won't feel like talking about this on the phone just yet.

According to Wikipedia, over 8.6 million Americans suffer from generalized anxiety disorder. Characterized by "excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry about everyday things that is disproportionate to the actual source of worry," the condition can cause its sufferers to "catastrophise, anticipate disaster, and [be] overly concerned about everyday matters" and undergo "mood swing, irritability... and muscle tension." It also can lead a person to spend two hours in their head rehashing a three year-old fight with their sister or spend all their spare energy trying not to jump out of a subway car that has too many loud talkers on it.

This is probably a good time for me to go back to that Wikipedia page and change the statistic to 8.6 million and one. In case any of you have Don't Pick Up On Subtleties Disorder, I could more overtly say that I got an official diagnosis this afternoon. While it is very gratifying to have a professional tell me that I haven't just been in an 8-month bad mood, it does mean that I have to join an increasingly common pantheon of Americans: The many, the crazy, the medicated.

I come from a long bloodline of mental illness. I'll spare you the details, as a list of common North American songbirds would briefer, but suffice it to say that there are more than a few corners missing from the family matzoh. My dad and I have jokingly considered a sign for our front yard that says "Rosen Family: X days without emotional crisis." Spending this much time around such concentrated odd behavior, if not outright insanity, I got used to taking pride in being reliable. No crying jags, no frailty, no dark weeks. It was really looking like I would be able to avoid the family trap. But alas, family traps are called such because genetics are inescapable. I'll be filling my prescription tomorrow.

I'm as aware as anybody else that mental disorders are illnesses, just like a migraine. No one out there beats themselves up about taking an excedrin, right? It just sucks to admit defeat to a problem I was really hoping to take care of by myself. I don't disinfect cuts until they turn yellow. I treat colds with nothing but garlic, vitamin C and a good nights sleep. However, it's been a gross miscalculation that long walks and cheery music could alleviate two days of abnormal irritation at, say, running into three of my boyfriend's exes in a single afternoon.

Problematically, I am adamant that being gay is not something that can just be turned off in any compartment of my life. Ergo, I'm a gay music snob instead of just a music snob. I consider myself to be a gay blogger. Today, then, do I have to admit that I'm a gay nutjob? I know that getting beaten up about a relatively minor condition is like crying about my hangnail in the amputee ward. I'm not bipolar or severely depresed, but a lot of people still associate homosexuality with mental illness. Many of those people march behind coffins with "God Kills Fags" signs. There are also those like my sister who still want to blame my 7th grade mopey-ness (and accompanying bad grades) on my being "gay and depressed."

Sure, a lot of what I worry about involves not having had the urban, gay (wantonly slutty) experiences that most men need to get out of the way before they settle. And no matter how much I protest it, there are a lot of aspects to gay life that are inherently lonely. The isolation and delayed romantic awakenings. The severing of roots that is necessary to fully find a community. It is well-documented that gays can have higher incidences of emotional problems. I just didn't think that was an umbrella I would have to fall under.

If anyone is familiar with Battlestar Galactica, I used to think of the Rosen family brain bug like being a Cylon. You like a number of years of your life thinking you're one kind of person and then boom! Something turns on and you're hearing phantom strains of "All Along the Watchtower" or making racecars out of your own poop.

I know for a fact that things aren't that bad. Nor will they ever be. It's just weird to know that the things you spend the most time running from actually can turn out to be trotting patiently at your side when you stop to catch a breath.

I also found out that such pills come with possible side effects of weight gain, lowered alcohol tolerance and delayed ejaculation. So if you want to talk to me about this at the next TNG party, just look for the fruitlessly masturbating fat guy who got drunk off of one beer.

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The New Skinny Revisited

Months ago I wrote an essay called The New Skinny, where I implied that obesity was the epidemic of our time. While I was called quite a few names, including “sizeist” and “elitist,” I haven’t seen much reason to change my opinion. In follow up to that post, here is a photo taken during my recent trip to Costco. In my hand is a family sized can of country sausage gravy. In the case against rising healthcare costs, I submit it as exhibit A: the murder weapon.

I’ve had a poor diet for most of my life. Across this country, what communities of limited wealth and education lack in nutritional knowledge stands in diametric contrast to easy access of cheap, mass produced food. Only in the last couple of years have I taken gradual steps to improving my health and diet, moving from enriched flour to whole wheat and fried food and processed sugars to lean meats and green vegetables. As my lifestyle has transitioned from one of passive consumption of the marketed buffet placed before me to one of critical consideration of all potential food choices, I’ve become increasingly dismayed by the lack of healthy options and the insidious nature of the standard American diet (SAD).

As I pushed my cart through Costco’s warehouse of edible goods, I looked at every nutritional label on foods I considered for purchase. Items as inncuous as granola, peanut butter, whole grain bread, yogurt, and even canned fruits and vegetables had high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), the substance considered responsible for the rapid rise in American weight gain that has taken place since the inception of HFCS in the 1970s. I also realized that if I were to limit myself to the USDA’s recommendation of consuming less than 25 grams of saturated fat per day, most of the items in Costco’s refrigerated section would be off limits. Don’t even get me started on sodium. Let’s just say you shouldn’t bother buying anything in a can or a box. In a facility as large as Costco, it shocked me that little of what they offer is actually good for me.

Healthcare was a big issue in the recent election. Everyone agrees that the system needs reform, with the most popular culprits being the significantly higher administrative overhead costs that are not incurred in other countries with simpler health-insurance systems, the lack of a government based single-payer system, the absence of free-market competition for pharmaceuticals, a healthcare system that allows for wasteful duplication of services, a lack of preventative care, higher treatment costs triggered by our uniquely American tort laws (defensive medicine), and higher prices for the same health care goods and services than are paid in other countries for the same goods and services. However, what we don’t hear as much about is the biggest threat to our healthcare system:

Us.

In an essay in the New York Times Magazine, Michael Pollan, the Knight Professor of Journalism at the University of California, Berkeley, offered advice to the next president on a wide range of issues, including how the American diet has impacted the U.S. healthcare system. Pollan argued that "one of the biggest, and perhaps most tractable," reason for increasing healthcare costs "is the cost to the system of preventable chronic diseases. Four of the top 10 killers in America today are chronic diseases linked to diet: heart disease, stroke, Type 2 diabetes, and cancer. It is no coincidence that in the years national spending on healthcare went from five percent to 16 percent of national income, spending on food has fallen by a comparable amount -- from 18 percent of household income to less than 10 percent." Pollan stated that healthcare reform will depend on "confronting the public-health catastrophe that is the modern American diet."

While some trends show that there has been a shift toward a more healthy diet, the current epedemic is clear. Diabetes, which has exploded among the American population, was responsible for 218 billion dollars in healthcare spending last year—nearly 10 percent of all U.S. healthcare spending. Cardiovascular disease was twice that amount. The Journal of the American Medical Association recently reported that “13 percent of American adults -- about 26 million people -- have chronic kidney disease (CKD), up from 10 percent, or about 20 million people, a decade earlier,” and most people who have CKD don’t even know it. According to researchers at Northwestern University's Feinberg School of Medicine, “because of rising obesity levels, for the first time, the life expectancy of the next generation may be lower than the current one."

Enjoy your Thanksgiving holiday.

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Grab your razors boys, it's time to Manscape!

Since coming out I’ve noticed that I’m much more body conscious. I’ve started running more, have (and I hate to admit this) made a few trips to the tanning salon, and have recently begun tending more to my body hair. I’ve always trimmed a bit here and a bit there – nobody wants to see excessive armpit hair – but was unaware until recently that among gays, particular attention is paid to the nether region.

I was introduced to the concept of manscaping just a few weeks ago. Listening as two of my gay friends discussed the merits of their trimming regiments, I realized how thoroughly out of touch I was. One friend explained how he regularly shaves his balls with a razor (the same kind he uses on his face). The other explained that while in a relationship, or regularly having sex, he has his ass waxed (and I don’t mean the cheeks). I was taken aback at first – the sheer pain of the second method is enough to turn me off – but after some pondering, I decided to do some experimenting.

While I’m all about personal disclosure in the interest of authentic writing, I have my limits. As such, I will not be discussing which manscaping methods I’ve tried, but I will say that less hair has some big perks: increased sensitivity, it’s aesthetically pleasing, it makes your equipment look bigger, and should you be lucky enough to have visitors to your nether region, I think it’s just the courteous thing to do. With that said, there are limits. Manscaping should be used to cleanup and enhance what you already have, not a vain and pathetic attempt to be something you’re not. For example, if you’re a hairy guy, don’t go all crazy and shave and wax your entire body. To me, natural is sexy, but like everything else on our bodies, a bit of maintenance is required.

Like I said, I’m new to this. I’d be curious to hear what other people have to say about this topic. Do most gays manscape? What methods do you like best… for you and your partner? Have you ever been with someone in serious need of manscaping? Should tops and bottoms landscape differently? There you go, I’ve provided some food for thought… it’s your turn.

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Chew

I’m several weeks into my second serious attempt to quit smoking, a problem I’ve written about previously. It’s going well, if you don’t count the moments when any number of subconscious triggers whiplash my mind in the direction of nicotine. These moments are daily but usually brief, for which I am thankful. However, when these moments arise, the religious fixation to reunite with my lost limb is comparable to the complicated relationship of Adam to his rib. As much as I want to sacrifice this part of me for the sake of my health and relationship, it’s still my damn rib. I feel a hole where it has left me.

As a proxy, I’ve taken to chewing gum. While I sit in an airport waiting to board my flight, I pop a “Dentyne Ice” into my mouth and then turn over the packet to read the list of ingredients. I immediately notice that I have no idea what any of these ingredients are, so I grab my phone and start to google the terms:

Aspartame
More complaints have been filed with the FDA on aspartame than on all other food additives…..combined. The FDA once published a list of 92 adverse reactions to this poison from 10,000 consumer reports. Symptoms included seizures, blindness and death.

Sorbitol
Ingesting more than 10grams of sorbitol a day can lead to abdominal pain, gas, and mild to severe diarrhea. Sorbitol ingestion of 20 grams/day (g/d) as sugar-free gum has led to severe diarrhea leading to unintended weight loss of 24 lbs in a 114 lb woman; another patient required hospitalization after habitually consuming 30g/d. Sorbitol can also aggravate irritable bowel syndrome and fructose malabsorption.

Good thing I don't eat 20 grams of gum per day.

Maltitol
Impacts blood glucose and causes gas and bloating.

BHT
The compound has been banned for use in food in Japan, Romania, and Australia. The US has barred it from infant foods. The International Agency for Research on Cancer, part of the World Health Organization, thinks that BHT may cause cancer.

Sucrose
The FDA reported sucralose as a possible trigger for migraine patients.

I gave up cigarettes for this? I didn’t bother to research the rest.

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Is a Salty Slope Slippery?

The New York Sun reported that New York City's health commissioner, "who has already waged war against tobacco, trans fats, and calories, appears to have chosen his next public enemy: salt." The city's Department of Health and Mental Hygiene, "voicing cautionary tales about high blood pressure that can be caused by eating too much salt...in recent months have used editorials, public testimony, and educational campaigns to mount a push for regulation of sodium levels in food.”

Last year I wrote about salt regulation, and considering the further encroachment of the health police and all the buzz we have heard recently about “Regulation,” I’ve decided to repost this and see what people think:

12/26/07

"While voluntary reductions might be preferable to government requirements, the industry, with some exceptions, has demonstrated over the past several decades that it simply has not been willing to reduce sodium levels on its own. Regulations, in the form of limits or warning labels, would ensure that reductions occur and would be permanent."

I need to lower my sodium intake. It's kind of ridiculous at this point. However, the government wants me to lower it too, and that has me concerned. Below the fold is a petition letter to the FDA that crossed my desk last week, which (due to my job) I have asked a group of scientists/thought-leaders to sponsor (Most agree with the letter whole-heartedly). While I'm supportive of the noble goal of the organization that wrote this letter (decreasing the nation's sodium intake by 50% in 10 years), I'm concerned that the government, prodded by the medical community, might agree to an outright ban on my consumption of foods that exceed their regulations.

I don't like the idea of the government policing all of my bad behavior. I realize that as a member of the human race I must bear civic responsibility and weigh my actions in relation to their effect on others, so I recycle everything, don't drive a car, and I'm eating less meat because of the cruelty and pollution issues, but personally, I like many things that are bad for me, and I really like the idea of making a personal choice to enjoy them, even if it kills me.

I know this idea is a roadblock to the utopian vision of many, but at what point does utopia become tyranny? I've met many utopians both super-liberal and super-conservative, and their ideas often seem so reasonable, particularly after the guilt trip they level in an attempt to help me understand why I must become a pod person or protect myself from myself or other people, but I can't shake the feeling that with a little prodding, even the nicest among them would probably make decent SS officers. I just wish they were reasonable enough to let me destroy myself in peace.

I didn't support the ban on smoking (although I enjoy the ban) because (1) it was an attack on personal freedom, (2) the argument against the effects of secondary smoke in light of modern ventilation systems and the general pollution index in an urban area didn't add up, and (3) made the slippery slope for government interference in our personal lives even steeper, but I glumly accepted it due to the (relatively small) public health issue as it relates to bars and the fact that more and more Americans are becoming ignorant of the concept of freedom: if you don't like certain venues then you can stop going to them or start patronizing/opening venues that you do like. Regardless, 20 years ago I don't think anyone would have believed that in DC, the bars, places where generations of people have gone to smoke, drink, and brazenly destroy themselves, would be smoke-free now.

No, I'm not a libertarian, and I'm not voting for Ron Paul. I want the government to ensure that my food and drugs are safe and that businesses are not allowed to practice a vicious and unethical version of capitalism, but where is the line drawn? I'm curious about how we balance government regulation, because I'm conflicted. If we're telling people that they can't decide what products they want to eat, how long until we have national movements for other regulations on our behavior? Banning all meat products? Regulating our bedtime? What about Political Correctness laws? National fitness standards? Banning the sale of music that is deemed "destructive" or "unhealthy"?

Where do YOU draw the line? What regulation is acceptable? Giving the government this kind of power may benefit you on some things, but what about the issues you don't agree with where your opinion is the minority one?

Here is the letter.

Dear Sir or Madam:

The undersigned scientists, health professionals and organizations are deeply concerned about the harm being caused by excessive amounts of sodium in the American diet and commend the FDA for holding a hearing on this important topic. We support the actions proposed in the Center for Science in the Public Interest’s petition, which include revoking the Generally Recognized As Safe (GRAS) status of salt and making salt a food additive, limiting sodium levels in key categories of packaged foods, and other measures.

The extraordinary importance of lowering salt consumption was highlighted in 2004 by the director of the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute (NHLBI), Dr. Claude Lenfant, and his colleagues. They estimated in the American Journal of Public Health (2004;94:19-21) that reducing sodium levels in packaged and restaurant foods by 50 percent would save about 150,000 Americans per year from fatal heart attacks and strokes. The goal of reducing sodium consumption by 50 percent over 10 years was endorsed by NHLBI’s Joint National Committee on Prevention, Detection, Evaluation and Treatment of High Blood Pressure (JNC 7) of which several of the cosigners of this letter are members.

A recent government-sponsored landmark study found that among people aged 30 to 54, who were pre-hypertensive, and cut back on sodium, (the average reduction was 800 to 1,000 milligrams a day – for 1 ½ to 3 years) reduced their chances of developing cardiovascular disease by 25 percent and their risk of dying from it by 20 percent.

The 2005 Dietary Guidelines for Americans advises young adults to limit their daily sodium intake to 2,300 milligrams (mg) and middle-aged and older adults, African Americans, and people with hypertension to limit their intake to 1,500 mg. Despite experts’ admonitions over the years, per capita sodium consumption has actually increased (according to NHANES surveys) from 2,800 mg in 1976-80 to 3,400 mg in 2003-04. According to the 2003-04 NHANES survey, 70 percent of adult males and 50 percent of adult females exceed the 2,300 mg sodium intake.

The FDA has the responsibility to ensure the safety of the food supply, but has done little with regard to salt. Despite the scientific consensus that current levels of salt consumption are harmful (and despite a 1979 FDA advisory committee’s conclusion that the evidence didn’t support the GRAS designeation), the FDA still considers salt to be GRAS. The FDA has implemented the Nutrition Labeling and Education Act, which has required sodium to be listed on food labels since 1994, but even that has not reduced sodium consumption. Clearly, stronger measures are needed to prevent the widespread disease and death that is quietly being caused by salt.

In contrast to the U.S. government, the United Kingdom’s Food Standards Agency (FSA) has made salt reduction a top priority. The FSA is making consumers more aware of the health threat posed by excessive salt consumption. The FSA is also exerting strong pressure on the food and restaurant industries to gradually lower sodium levels by about one-third over five years.

Salt reduction should be a top health priority of our government also. Holding the salt reduction hearing is a first step. We urge the FDA to take further steps by implementing the proposals outlined in the CSPI petition and improve the diet and health of the American public. Judging from differences in the sodium contents of different brands of the same food, major reductions should be feasible in the near future. Subsequent reductions would be facilitated if industry-wide reductions gradually accustomed consumers to less salty foods. While voluntary reductions might be preferable to government requirements, the industry, with some exceptions, has demonstrated over the past several decades that it simply has not been willing to reduce sodium levels on its own. Regulations, in the form of limits or warning labels, would ensure that reductions occur and would be permanent.

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Take Care of Yourself

Workloads tend to be intense during seasonal transition periods, and that certainly seems to be the case this year, for most people that I talk to lately. Everyone is exhausted from the work week, and with the economy getting “Bushed,” and free-floating anxiety surrounding job security on the rise, so many of us may work a little harder and longer in order to justify our existence. In such situations, it’s easy to lose sight of our physical and mental health.

It’s important that we take care of ourselves, so please keep in mind the seven worst habits of workaholics (below) as you slog through your work week:

From George Griffing, MD, professor of internal medicine at Saint Louis University:
1. Forgetting to relax: While some stress can be good because it keeps you alert and motivated, too much stress or chronic stress will take its toll on your body. In fact, stress can cause a wide-array of problems including: cancer, heart disease, headaches, upset stomach, sleeping problems, muscle tension, weight gain/loss, high blood pressure and chest pains.

2. Eating on the go: Between meetings, conference calls and deadlines, who has time to sit down for a healthy lunch? But a healthy, balanced meal of complex carbohydrates, protein, fruits and vegetables is exactly what you need to stay mentally sharp throughout the day. Beware of frozen meals, fast food and processed food; they can be high in sodium, calories and fat.

3. Putting off sleep for work: Even busy professionals need seven to nine hours of sleep every night. Skimping on sleep can cause irritability, difficulty concentrating, memory problems and poor judgment. It has also been linked to obesity. If you have troubles sleeping at night, avoid bringing work to bed, limit caffeine and alcohol consumption and develop a relaxing routine before bedtime, such as light reading or a warm bath. If you still cannot sleep, seek the help of an expert.

4. Not making time for exercise: Humans were not designed to sit at desks for eight hours or more a day. Getting at least 30 minutes of exercise most days is very important to your immediate and future health. In addition to reducing the risk for nearly every major disease, exercise has been shown to help fight anxiety and depression. By hitting the gym before or after work or walking during lunch, even the busiest person can find time to squeeze in exercise.

5. Working even when sick: Everyone has heard, “don’t come to work if you’re sick,” yet that’s exactly what many do. Whether you’re worried about jeopardizing your job in an unstable economy or just anxious about getting behind, there are three common sense reasons to stay home: Nobody wants your germs, you’ll be less productive and you need your rest to get better.

6. Drinking (too much): The saying “too much of a good thing” certainly applies to alcohol. Research has shown that moderate alcohol consumption can reduce your risk for everything from heart disease to rheumatoid arthritis, with “moderate” being the key word. In general, men should have no more than two drinks per day (1.5 oz. of spirits, 5 oz. of wine or 12 oz. of beer) and women who are not pregnant should limit themselves to one drink per day. Remember, the risks of excessive drinking far outweigh the benefits of alcohol consumption and can lead to alcoholism, liver disease and some forms of cancer.

Instead of drinking several cocktails to cope with stress or unwind after a busy day, try sipping herbal tea, meditation or yoga.

7. Skipping annual medical checkups: In order to detect problems early, prevent others from developing and get the best treatment if you have a condition, you need to know what’s going on in your body. Depending on your age, family history and lifestyle, consider a comprehensive medical checkup and special screenings every one to five years. Consult with your doctor for more information.

“Eventually, something’s going to give. If you keep burning the candle at both ends, the flame will burn out,” Griffing says. “But if you maintain a healthy balance, you will be happier and healthier overall.”

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Approximate Living

This post was submitted by Ben43, a native of Maryland who relocated back to the DC area after living in Boston and New York.

I’ve been thinking about the nature of dependency in general and within Gay culture specifically. A recent University of Pittsburgh study found, "The odds of substance use for lesbian, gay and bisexual (LGB) youth are on average 190 percent higher than for heterosexual youth." One of that study's researchers attributes this disparity to "homophobia, discrimination and victimization." A July 2004 study in the American Journal of Public Health reports anti-Gay harassment is “associated with lower self-esteem and increased suicidal ideation” in young Gay men. These findings remind me of Patrick Moore’s June 2005 Village Voice article, We Are Not OK. Moore, a former AIDS activist and author of Tweaked: A Crystal Meth Memoir, makes the point that psychological distress and substance use among Gay men is the symptom of a “far larger spiritual crisis”. That crisis has produced self-destructive attitudes and behaviors that have disfigured Gay culture with exceptionally high rates of addiction and HIV transmission.

Although written three years ago I still think of Moore’s words today:

"...addiction is just one symptom of a larger disorder. There will always be another drug. The solution, unfortunately, is not a better prevention campaign. It's an inside job. Let's make this our last crisis."

It’s an inside job. The rate of self-destructive behavior in Gay men may be, at least in part, attributable to the stresses and pressures generated by a mainstream culture in which Gays are second class citizens. All you need to do is read the posts on this (or any Gay) blog regarding violent attacks, harassment, coming out pressure, gender confusion*, body image, PDA ambivalence, media indifference, political apathy, etc. and one quickly gets the impression there is a lot of tension, insecurity and anger permeating our environment. But what role, if any, do we ourselves have in perpetuating those pressures?

"...I have lived in a state of crisis for my entire adult life and have even found pleasure in the sense of purpose these crises instill."

Moore’s words remind me that, by design, objects of bigotry are forced to manage their own oppression in perpetual states of anxiety. While Gays live remarkably high stress lives that fact generally goes unrecognized. It is only natural we attempt to ameliorate that stress. Some self-medicate with drugs, alcohol, food, sex and relationships. Others attempt to suppress feelings of inadequacy by diligently acquiring the “perfect” life they feel has always eluded them. These aren’t surprising reactions to a mainstream culture that has embedded a remarkable amount of anxiety, insecurity and self-doubt in Gay men. Problem is altered states and affected lifestyles will not alleviate the stress, anger and anxiety of continual oppression. Sadly many Gay men inured to this predicament have developed attitudes and behaviors that are self-destructive, that corrode the Gay community at large.

Gay subculture itself may contribute in part to the dysfunction it seeks to eliminate. Created decades ago in opposition to an overt and sustained oppression (that has now receded into stealthy manipulation), Gay culture today preserves and sustains a system of now outmoded structures and coping mechanisms that do not serve us. Gay (male) Culture in large part consists of men seeking to control their environments: chasing the perfect high, or acquiring the perfect body, home, car, job, boyfriend, dog, vacation, family and friends. Where does the relentless need for perfection come from? Do we really need to prove our worth to ourselves and each other continuously? A mainstream culture that has constantly vilified Gay men as inadequate and inferior has produced in them a vigilant, painful self-consciousness by design. As a result Gay culture has misguidedly attempted to overcompensate for that imposed inadequacy. It is this unwitting cooperation that has made us a partner in our own marginalization.

Are high rates of substance use and rising rates of HIV infection proof that Gay culture has assimilated the animus of a mainstream culture that seeks to undermine and marginalize Gay people? Does the absence of outrage to decades of ongoing violent attacks betray a sense of powerlessness and inevitability? The uncomfortable answer, I think, is yes. It is arguable Gay (sub)culture is not a separate culture but the instrument of a system that seeks to control us. That coercive control has produced an oppositional culture of conformity, self-loathing and hostility within clear boundaries: The Gay Box.

The time has come for a rigorous prolonged public discussion of what "Gay Identity” and "Gay Culture” actually is. How it has never been formed outside of oppression, how damaging it is to sustain such an obsolete subculture and to whose advantage we perpetuate our now irrelevant cooperation. Assuming it is even possible how do we surpass this plateau and form a Gay culture that is legitimately, objectively ours and not a defense against external coercion?

* 9/10/2008, Editors note. The link from the text "gender confusion" to the label "trans" was incorrectly added by TNG editors and, at the request of the author, has been removed. Many comments below reflect the inclusion of that link. Please disregard those comments and focus any further discussion on the content of the post.

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Fatitude: Rejecting the Platitudes

Submitted by Meaghan, who loves the Phase and contributes occasionally to TNG.

I've started this post so many times, in my head and on the computer, and I can't seem to find peace with any introduction to my perspective. Writing about fat, and being fat, is incredibly difficult. It's not only difficult because I have emotions (or "baggage") tied to it, it's not only difficult because I'm constantly fielding cues and directives from major and minor media about my fatness, and it's not only difficult because people feel entitled to talk about my body and what I do with it regardless of whether I give them permission, and it's not only difficult because the average person finds it impossible to consider all of the intersectionalization behind fatness. It's difficult for those reasons and so many more. In order to write a coherent and emotionally-controlled piece about being fat, I type in fear that someone will take advantage of my vulnerability and attack me for being who and what I am. So here goes...

Hey, D.C. I'm a big fat lesbian.

You've probably seen me in your bars, on your streets, in your restaurants ... EATING ... and you've probably thought some really fantastic things about me. My big bulky arms, midsection, my thick thighs, huge ass, multiple chins or even how I hold eating utensils, how I carry food from the plate to my mouth, how I accidentally spill something now and then on my enormous bosom. You've noticed, you've thought about it, and some of you have even been generous enough to share your opinions with me. Hell, when I was out to dinner last night and asked the server about my dairy free options because I have an allergy, he just assumed I was on a diet and told me about all of their "lean" dishes instead.

You're proud of me when I read labels in the grocery store, assuming I'm counting my Weight Watcher's points, and you probably assume I idolize all the great fat role-models like Camryn Manheim, Beth Ditto, America Ferrera and Queen Latifah.

You probably assume that I'm not partnered, or have never been kissed, and how lonely it must be to be fat and unloved. You probably wonder where I find clothes, and why they never fit right, and how hard it must be to not be able to go shopping with friends at any mainstream stores, or to run the risk of always having an identical item of clothing as the other fat girls out that night because fat clothes are a dime a dozen.

You make a lot of assumptions about me and about fat people. And I'm here as one fat person to say that your critique is our baggage.

Fat people, like anyone with a socially unacceptable quality, aren't born with shame or anger. Assumptions made in Ben's post last week, both in the original text and in the comments, are what continues to divide fat and not-fat people.

My fatness will not be cured with lentils and salads. Fat is more than just about health and exercise. If you have never been fat, it is more than you can comprehend. But when people take it upon themselves to align fatness with badness or wrongness, they do a great disservice to themselves. It is shallow, presumptuous, superficial and cruel to feel entitled to discuss other people's bodies.

I am fortunate that I am a lesbian, because I have been told that fat men in the gay community have it even harder than I do.

Curves, chub, and voluptuousness are prized among many lesbians, but the image-consciousness for which the gay male community is notorious does not escape any of us. There is even a non-profit organization that hosts an annual week of workshops, called NoLose, that helps queer women, dykes, bisexual and trans people and their allies debunk, deconstruct and endeavor to end fat oppression. There is obviously a consequence to fatphobia and fat hate, and that consequence is not always weight loss.

I realize that this is a lot of information to absorb, and probably many opinions and observations that you feel don't apply to you. You may have never policed, or desired to police, your family's consumption of fried chicken. You probably care deeply about a fat person in your personal life, and are appalled by what I've said here. You probably think I have diabetes, or high cholesterol, or high blood pressure. And you probably wonder why, in fact, Los Angeles has so many fast-food-eating fatties (which launches an entire discussion into racism and classism, and how those beastly machines make it impossible for people in low-income areas to have access to healthy and reasonably priced food that is of good quality).

And I say to you, like a Transformer, there is more than meets the eye.

Consider the expansiveness of a problem, and don't diminish it with your individual lense or perspective. My fatness, and the fatness of any person in this world, is not something for you to contemplate. You don't need to know why I'm fat. If you want to know why anyone is anything in this world, and how they feel about it, let them speak for themselves.

As gay people, we have requested this courtesy be extended to us in order to diffuse hate and maliciousness, and it is only reasonable that we extend the courtesy toward the rest of the world.

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Self Defense Tips For Dorks

Self Defense Dorks - Watch more free videos

There is a definite overlap between the "dork" community and the "fag" community. Both communities get picked on a lot by taller, more coordinated, more masculine guys, often just for who we are or appear to be. A reader sent along the video above which illustrates some self-defense techniques for "Dorks" which could also come in handy in case of threatened violence due to perceived sexual orientation. The video features men, but I'm sure the moves illustrated here can be used by anyone.

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CDC Updates HIV Statistics, Confusion Ensues

The Washington Post published an article yesterday on the apparent positive impact of AIDS prevention and education. The article is based on new updated numbers released by the CDC that actually revise upwards historical incidence counts over the past 30 years due to new estimation methods. Sunday's article was accompanied by a series of graphics that seem to paint a picture contradictory to the headline. According to the graphics, HIV infections in men who have sex with men have been increasing steadily since 1993 or so. Over the same time period, incidence rates have been steady among heterosexuals, and decreasing for intravenous drug users. Again, over the same time period, it appears that infection rates when divided up by whites, blacks and Hispanics have more or less stayed the same, with the whites showing the most pronounced upward trend over the past 15 years.

I find it disturbing that the message being broadcast by the media is that "we're gaining ground on HIV" when in fact it appears we're losing, especially among gay and bisexual men and African Americans. I'm also disappointed by the snapshots that the graphics supply. From the data presented, it is impossible to determine the change in incidence rate for, say, white men who sleep with men versus black men who sleep with men. One could guess that the uptick in incidence among gay and bi-sexual men correlates to the uptick in incidence among blacks, but correlation doesn't equal causality. I tracked the data back to the source, and looked to see if I could find the raw data on the CDC website, so I could create my own graphics of interest. Alas, no such data is currently available.

Based on the data available, I feel an appropriate headline for an article on this data release would be, "Gay's Have Forgotten The Past, Need Reminders Of The Horrors Of HIV/AIDS."

It's far too easy for an arm-chair statistician to look at a few numbers and graphics from the CDC and produce faulty analysis. Our community deserves better reporting, representation and information than this.

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