step away from the ephedrine

Ephedrine (EPH) is a sympathomimetic amine commonly used as a stimulant, appetite suppressant, concentration aid, decongestant, and to treat hypotension associated with anaesthesia. Ephedrine is similar in structure to the synthetic derivatives amphetamine and methamphetamine.

Two women and one guy I know have used ephedrine to help with their weight loss. The two women were about my size till they took the drug. They use it for its appetite suppression, and because it speeds up their metabolism, forgetting the adverse drug reactions that go with including this substance in your diet. Thinking about incorporating ephedrine into your diet? Think again.

Adverse effects

Adverse drug reactions (ADRs) are more common with systemic administration (e.g. injection or oral administration) compared to topical administration (e.g. nasal instillations). ADRs associated with ephedrine therapy include:[4]

• Cardiovascular: tachycardia, cardiac arrhythmias, Angina pectoris, vasoconstriction with hypertension
• Dermatological: flushing, sweating, acne vulgaris
• Gastrointestinal: nausea, appetite loss
• Genitourinary: increased urine output due to increased blood flow (difficulty urinating is not uncommon, as alpha-agonists such as ephedrine constrict the internal urethral sphincter, mimicking the effects of sympathetic nervous system stimulation)
• Nervous system: restlessness, confusion, insomnia, mild euphoria, mania/hallucinations (rare except in previously existing psychiatric conditions), delusions, formication (may be possible, but lacks documented evidence) paranoia, hostility, panic, agitation
• Respiratory: dyspnea, pulmonary edema
• Miscellaneous: dizziness, headache, tremor, hyperglycemic reactions

The approved maximum daily dosage of ephedrine for use as a bronchodilator is 150 mg, as specified on the packaging of the bronchodilator and expectorant combination, Bronkaid, made by Bayer pharmaceuticals.

Overdose can lead to death, although the approved dose is not likely to cause severe reactions when used as directed.

Ephedrine can also lead to damage of the brain receptors’ over a period of high usage; this is because of its constant action on the neurochemicals. It also leads to high increase in blood pressure which over time can lead to damage in the blood vessels.

It’s so messed up that we live in a society where there is so much pressure to look like an ideal that people will self-medicate and endanger their health to look like that ideal.

Step away from the ephedrine. Weight loss is hard. Weight maintainence is hard. And a little pill may seem like it makes it easier, but it is more difficult on your system, in the end.

My $0.02

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

One of my closest friends just joined WW. (Uber proud of you, dudette!) This has got me thinking about my health and weight – where I have been, where I am, where I am going. Her commitment to her health  inspired me to revisit this blog, and I got a bit of a kick out of re-reading my ups and downs.

It’s been months since my last post. A lot has happened. I just completed my second half-marathon (21.1km) on Sunday. According to this blog, I started running November 18, 2007. So, under a year later I hammered out two half-marathons. A year (ish) ago I found running 3 km difficult/nearly impossible. It’s kind of amazing to stand back and think of it that way.

During the summer I took up dragon boating, and eventually became the co-captain of a competitive team. At the last festival we blew our best time out of the water, and I met some friendly, athletic women along the way. One of whom is now my weight lifting buddy. (Just re-started a weight lifting regime a month ago, and am already seeing results.)

I’ve also removed my head from my ass school-wise, too. I am on track to finish my MA for April.

Weight gain was a symptom of some seriously low self esteem, self worth, and confidence. I feel like I am getting back to who I am, and that feels pretty spectacular (more on this in another post, this one is already a novella an I’m not done).

I’ve quit weight watchers. I figure I learned all I could from them, and have the support mechanisms I need to succeed. Interestingly, I weigh roughly the same as I did last time I blogged. Apparently, according to my BMI, 150 is the MAXIMUM I should weigh, and I am thusly 15 pounds overweight.

I have plateaued.

Ultimately, I’d like to train for a full marathon. I have signed up for a 30 km race as litmus to see if 42.2 km is doable. Being overweight makes running harder on your body, and is bad for running economy. Have I mentioned I don’t feel overweight? I don’t. This whole BMI thing bugs me. Even though I don’t want to worry about the scale and about numbers, it is for sure in the back of my mind – especially when I step on the scale, or head out for a long run. I suspect it also bothers me because I am aware that I have stopped challenging myself to eat better (even though I continue to challenge myself as an athlete). I’ve accepted that this is the best I can do, when it isn’t, if I am honest with myself.

I don’t want to be a slave to the scale. But, at the same time, I think there is some wiggle room for me to do better food-wise. Inspired by my friend, I am going to start tracking again. I need to find the balance between obsessing and being cognisant of my weight. I am going to try harder to see if I have reached my potential, or maybe discover that I haven’t. Watching what I eat, and especially monitoring portion size, might just make me harder, better, faster, and stronger. Especially with all this running.

day 6: taste

THE YEAR BEGAN with lunch.

We have always found that New Year’s Eve, with its eleventh-hour excesses and doomed resolutions, is a dismal occasion for all the forced jollity and midnight toasts and kisses. And so, when we heard that over in the village of Lacoste, a few miles away, the proprietor of Le Simiane was offering a six-course lunch with pink champagne to his amiable clientele, it seemed like a much more cheerful way to start the next twelve months.

By 12:30 the little stone-walled restaurant was full. There were some serious stomachs to be seen – entire families with the embonpoint that comes from spending two or three diligent hours every day at the table, eyes down and conversation postponed in the observance of France’s favorite ritual. The proprietor of the restaurant, a man who had somehow perfected the art of hovering despite his considerable size, was dressed for the day in a velvet smoking jacket and bow tie. His mustache, sleek with pomade, quivered with enthusiasm as he rhapsodized over the menu: foie gras, lobster mousse, beef en croûte, salads dressed in virgin oil, hand-picked cheeses, desserts of a miraculous lightness, digestifs. It was a gastronomic aria which he performed at each table, kissing the tips of his fingers so often that he must have blistered his lips.

The final “bon appetite” died away and a companionable near-silence descended on the restaurant as the food received its due attention. While we ate, my wife and I thought of previous New Year’s Days, most of them spent under impenetrable cloud in England. It was hard to associate the sunshine and dense blue sky outside with the first of January but, as everyone kept telling us, it was quite normal. After all, we were in Provence.

- Peter Mayle, A Year in Provence

Gag.

I was strongarmed into joining a book club at work about 2 months ago, and today we got together for the inaugural meeting, having had the (dis)pleasure of reading the book from whence the above excerpt came. A monument to pretentiosity, this book of France and Food was dull, with a few (fleeting) moments of hilarity drowning in a sea of condescension. I can see how people could find it “delightful,” but I wouldn’t want to hang out with those people. It really wasn’t my cup of tea. And I straight up love tea.

We met for lunch at a French Café – my first adventure in eating out on weight watchers. Apparently French food is crazy high in fat and also dairy products: even the grilled vegetable sandwich was full of cheeses and pesto; I was really unsure of what to order – something I forsee happening again and again when I attempt eating out in the future. Confused and hungry, I ended up going with a smoked salmon panini thing which came with a vegetable soup. It totally isn’t sitting well, and was NOT worth the points I allowed for it. I am currently sitting in my office surrounded by my own terrible gas waiting for the stomach cramps to subside, hoping no co-workers have the unfortunate experience of walking into this haze of flatulence, made all the more irritating by the knowledge I spent 3 hours of my life reading that piece of crap, later forced to discuss it over food which will take considerably less time to race its way through my system.

Fucking rich food.
And I’m still hungry, somehow.

So today I discovered I prefer consuming anglicized food (and teen fantasy fiction) to those literary and culinary creations which attempt to encompass all things provençal.

day 4: pounding the pavement

Note: the following is probably only amazing to people who have met me, and have thus experienced the zeitgeist of scatterbrainedness that is me.

Do you ever surprise yourself by discovering something where you thought you left it – without like ransacking your entire 1 bedroom apartment and storage space just in case? I found my gym membership and lock within like 2 minutes of looking yesterday – how crazy is that?? (And remembered the combination! I have had literally 4 locks cut off my storage space because I never remember what the fuck the numbers are. In fact, it is unlocked right now, and it is possible someone has stolen my bike at this point. Little do they know that the breaks are broken. Twahaha.) Anyways, the point is I have started running again. I had forgotten how much I actually enjoy running… now I just have to find the right time of day for me to do up. Optimally, I should be running in the morning cause I can’t eat before I pound the pavement without getting incredibly nauseated, and I drag ass if I run after work. BUT, I heart sleeping-in to the max. So we’ll see what the deuce happens with this situation.

day 2: difficulty adjusting or, the importance of your afternoon delight

Ohmygod.

Musteatfuckingsaladimmediatelyorwillsurelyconsumeentiretyof

bluemenupizzaassoonasitemergesfromthedepthsoftheoven. Not enough points left to “allow” for that. Plus the whole scalded mouth thing seems like it would be uncomfortable.

Faaaaaack. Totally got home from work late and hadn’t thought to pack a snack this morning.

Never again.

day 1: “ouch.”

What’s up with your stomach having to take like 20 minutes to tell your brain: “Yo! We’re full!”? (An obvious design flaw.) And who the shit decides to diet/change eating habits the week of her fucking period when, by all rights, she should be having rage-induced, cornicopic-in-magnitude feasts consisting of Big Macs, chocolate ice cream, straight up chocolate and Pringles for dinner??!

Hello. And welcome to my blog. Here I will transcribe my weight watching efforts as well as my musings about life and food.

This week I commit to:

• FLEX
• taking the stairs
• eating more vegetables

DAY 1

So I run to save this ball that is going way out-of-bounds. I stop, arch my back so my back-bump won’t hit the ceiling, make a glorious pass – and then fall hard onto my ass. This (of course) was followed by considerable difficulty getting back up, and complete disorientation and inability to be remotely useful when I made my way back to my position at the net.

You’d think day 1 would be glorious – feeding off that high of finally making and acting on the choice to eat better, and taking ownership of my weight. Instead, I totally under-ate, misjudging how to space out food throughout the day and ended up hungry and useless on the volleyball court.