A few years ago, my cousin dragged me to Webster Hall (I was 18, don’t judge me!) for “Ladies Night” which included an open bar and male dancers from 8-10pm. The idea of a naked sweaty stranger made me very uncomfortable, so I found a spot against the wall where I could sip my free screwdriver and watch the show from a safe distance.

The lights went down and a man wearing chaps and a tasselled thong came skipping, kicking and bucking onto the stage while the women in the building screamed their faces off. After a few minutes of hand stands and humping the ground, the stripper made his way to the edge of the stage. He licked his lips as he scanned the crowd and then he reached down and grabbed a big girl from the front row.

He lifted her off the ground and she tugged on her shirt to keep it from rising up as he twirled her in the air. She was screaming, the crowd was cheering and the stripper had a confident smirk on his face. He flipped her so that her legs were around his waist and then he slowly slid her to the ground and crawled between her legs. After a few minutes of simulating the missionary position he flipped her over onto her stomach. Then he pulled her pants down in the back, slid a banana into her… um, cheeks and ate it. I almost spit out my drink.

For the rest of the night, I must have seen at least five big girls get called onto the stage. Seeing a pattern, I made sure I stayed waaay in the back, because there was no way I was going up there.

Fast Forward to this past weekend. I was on the Lower East Side for a co-workers birthday party when a guy slid up to dance with me, “Imma work on this right here!” he said (to my chest). He leaned into my ear and whispered, “You know I’m a stripper, right?” Then he grinned and lifted his shirt to show his six pack stomach. I guess, because I’m a big girl, that was the moment when I was supposed to get excited, but I just got scared that he’d pull out a banana and try to… never mind.

Just when I thought that I was imagining the stripper/big girl connection, my friend Maya referenced a friend of ours as having stripper tendencies. “Oh, CeCe you know how he always makes himself available to the girls who no one is really checking for? He’s like… a stripper! No offense, but strippers always seek out the big girl in the back of the room ’cause they know that she’ll appreciate the attention.”

No offense taken, she was right.

My observation is that strippers get the biggest reaction from the biggest girls and so they gravitate to us. They also get a reaction from the crowd when they’re lifting and flipping us because- well, it’s pretty impressive!

Although strippers aren’t my cup of tea, I don’t knock anyone big or small who enjoys them. I guess in the back of my mind I just wonder if they feed into the big girl stereotype of desperation (which is something I’ve talked about before). Anyway, all I can do is sound the alarm, for better or worse, strippers are drawn to big girls like a moth to a flame (and if that “moth” is carrying a banana… run!)

There’s a scripture, in Matthew I think, that talks about fasting being something that’s between you and God. It basically says that one shouldn’t walk around making a big deal about their sacrifice to everyone they see. “No food for me! I’m fasting… I would love to go to dinner with you but, I’m fasting!” Obviously Lent is a little different, because a lot of people are fasting during this season, but in the back of my mind I assumed that I would be able to do this No Bread thing semi-privately. What I’m learning is that even if the people I’m around don’t know what I’m doing, they sure are seeing the effects of it!

Like last week during girls night out when the tofu and eggplant with black bean sauce that I ordered for dinner was no match for the red wine that followed and I almost fell asleep at the table after one glass. Part of me wishes that my low alcohol tolerance was the only thing that gave my lack of carb intake away, but sadly its not.

For the past two weeks, I could be sitting at my desk and a fleeting thought would make my eyes well up with tears. Waking up in the morning I would sometimes feel like the world was crashing down around me. I keep double checking my calendar to see if Aunt Flow is due to visit because I have been an emotional wreck. It all came to a head last Thursday when some people from my office met up for karaoke night at our favorite bar. As most of you remember, Robert and I work for the same company, so he was there.

I had to work late, so I was one of the last people to arrive. I scanned the crowd for some of the girls that I’m cool with, but before I could get to them Robert jumped off of a bar stool and offered it to me. “Do you want a cosmopolitan?” he asked, I gave him a small nod. Although Robert and I are close, I do my best to keep that separate from our work life. He slid my drink over to me and I sat on the bar stool while Robert, his boss and another guy from their department stood around me. We spent the evening talking, laughing and getting up to sing and when Robert noticed my glass was empty he would order me another.

When he handed me my third cosmo, I knew I was in the danger zone. I put my hand on his arm, “I don’t need anymore after this,” I said. By that point I think it was already too late, I had this strong desire for Robert to just hug me and not let go. At the same time I hated myself for wanting that since I’m doing my best to move forward with Kevin. By the end of the night, although I continued to “have fun” with my coworkers, I was in an emotional abyss fueled by an abundance of alcohol. People started to leave and I saw Robert settling our tab. I knew it was melodramatic, but I quickly threw on my coat in an attempt to leave without him. I rushed outside and let the crisp air fill my lungs. Do. Not. Cry., I told myself. I took about five steps towards the train station when I felt Robert beside me. “You ready?” he said.

We rode the train in silence. Robert did his best to make conversation, but I (little miss social butterfly) was in no mood. He asked me questions: Are you okay? Why are you so quiet? Did I do something? I was in so deep I could barely see him through my emotions, “I’m fine. Just tipsy,” I replied with a forced smile. All the frustrations, hurt, anger, confusion and my feelings for him were overpowering me and I knew if I opened my mouth to say anything more, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. I knew he was getting frustrated but I was in self preservation mode. If you can make it home without breaking down… I thought to myself, You’ll be alright.

I didn’t make it home without breaking down, I got off the train and sobbed while I walked the five blocks from the train station to my apartment, but at least I made it away from Robert. When I woke up the next morning with a head ache from crying, I was concerned. I called my friend Maya, “I’m usually pretty in touch with my emotions,” I told her, “but last night was way over the top.”

“Well you’re dealing with a lot,” she replied. “not to mention you haven’t had any carbs in… how long?” Hearing her say that made me wonder if there was a connection between the lack of carbs and my wacky emotions. I typed “No Carb Mood Swings” into google and found that: Low-carb dieters are susceptible to mood swings, according to MIT researchers. The issue involves serotonin, the “feel good” brain chemical (found in breads/carbs) that elevates mood, suppresses appetite and acts as a natural tranquilizer… It’s not unusual for people who are changing their eating patterns or embarking on any kind of diet to experience episodes of irritability. However, according to Psychology Today, many who are trying testing low-carbohydrate regimens are reporting unusually high feelings of anger, tension and depression. Dr. Wurtman claims that that it’s a very well documented response-she calls it the “Atkins attitude”. -Geneva Health

“Anger”, “Tension” and “Depression” were most definitely in effect that night and the alcohol didn’t help. The Robert situation is what it is, but my emotional episode was terrifying. After seeing some of the comments from “BrooklynShoeBabe”, “The Thirty” and others on the PCOS entry last week, I’m pretty confident that I’m not going nuts (*fingers crossed*) but that my emotional roller coaster is due to to the lack of serotonin.

I’ve been eating more nuts, hummous, broccolii and cauliflower in an effort to give my meals a more hearty foundation and my emotions feel like they’re starting to stabilize. I just never would have predicted these intense mood swings would be a side effect.

It was one of those random Saturday nights that just naturally unfolds. After dinner and drinks in Chelsea with my girlfriends, we decided that we wanted to go dancing. We piled into a cab and ten minutes later we were on the Lower East Side, making our way into one of those dance spots that’s super popular even though there’s no sign on the door.