The Frying Pans Matter
on being a good friend to my body
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Recently, I did something rash: I threw out all my nonstick frying pans.
Okay, that is a small exaggeration; I exiled my nonstick frying pans. They are hidden on the seat of a hard-to-reach chair tucked beneath our kitchen table, which is jammed up against the window. I put them there on the outside chance that I have a really bad run-in with hermetically-sealed egg residue and decide that I will nevermore try to make scrambled eggs in a cast iron skillet. You know, a sort of contingency plan. But that’s only a temporary comfort. Eventually, I plan to cut the cord tying me to the last of my nonstick pans and live free from questionable materials.
Why, might you ask, am I taking this whole free from toxins thing seriously? Well, the truth of the matter is that in a world full of exposure to poisonous things we have no choice about, I like to opt out of whichever ones I can. Cleaning up the products I put on my body (makeup, haircare, deodorant, perfume, shampoo, etc.) came first. Then household cleaners. Soon after, I ditched my plastic Tupperware and got a bigger lunch bag so that I can haul my breakfasts and lunches to and from work in glass containers. They’re heavy, unwieldy, a little prone to chipping, but at least they’re not ruining my health. Although I think making these swaps would benefit most people in our overloaded, overly-processed world, I personally need to make them. A lot of these environmental toxins are “endocrine disruptors” - this means that they can wreak havoc amongst your hormonal systems and cause sometimes-serious issues accordingly.
I am the begrudging owner of a particular hormonal condition (PCOS or Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) that effects a lot of things in my daily life, as well as bigger-picture health factors. Everything from body hair growth patterns, appetite, and energy levels to things like metabolism, sleep quality, and questions about my level of fertility are tied up in the nitty-gritty details of this condition. And while not a very dreadful disease in terms of treatment or long-term prognosis (it won’t kill me) it is a real bugger. As with most chronic conditions that have no ultimate cure, it can be discouraging to have to work so hard to convince my body to do what most other women’s bodies do for free.
So, because living with PCOS means that my hormones are already doing exactly nothing they’re supposed to, it is vital to my health that I not introduce rogue endocrine disruptors.
To put it simply, the frying pans matter.
Throughout the fall I worked with a fantastic women’s health nutritionist who (amongst a great many other things like covering my nutritional needs and figuring out a supplements regimen) helped me run through the list of endocrine disruptors nobody is thinking about. This wasn’t meant to be a scare tactic, more of a “just so you know...”
A list of the things that actually matter versus things you can choose to ignore as part of an admission that you’ll never completely bubble-wrap your existence. According to McKenzie the list of highest-concern items is oddly specific:
artificial fragrances in perfumes, candles, air fresheners, etc.
phthalates and parabens in home and beauty products
plastic storage containers or vessels for food or liquid
receipts (particularly carbon receipts)
dental floss
nonstick pans (use ceramic, stainless steel, cast iron, copper)
house dust (breakdown of building materials and debris tracked in from the outside world)
waterproof clothing such as raincoats and windbreakers (reserve for necessary use)
To be frank, I’d never considered half the items on this list. Dental floss? Seriously? (Yes, because it’s made of the worst materials and often gets directly into your bloodstream via gum-bleeds.)
McKenzie made sure I understood that this was an aspirational list; that I wasn’t going to spontaneously combust from handling a restaurant receipt; that if I kept a nonstick skillet around for scrambled eggs, that wasn’t going to single-handedly ruin my chance to have a baby. Little by little, I started to hack away at this list. I’m doing pretty well so far. I can’t say that I’ve felt any kind of immense, glowing, “I have no toxins in my body!” sort of energy (though maybe if I was physically glowing I’d be fearful of radium-poisoning anyway). But it does give me some peace of mind to check through this list now and then and see that I’m gradually lowering the levels of Very Bad Things for my body.
I found a non-toxic perfume brand that I love. I wear Henry Rose in “Last Light".”
I dust a lot, and make Andrew vacuum because I have hated vacuuming since childhood (it’s the cord).
I never owned a raincoat anyway, so I didn’t have to stop wearing one.
My mom gave me three spools of the very expensive but very safe (and effective) “Coco Floss” for a Christmas gift, and we laughed at what a weird Christmas gift that was, but also those spools are like ten bucks apiece. She wanted to support my detoxification process, and I loved this gift. My teeth have never been more flossed than they are these days.
I exiled those frying pans, got brave and properly seasoned up my cast iron skillet, then invested in a 12” carbon steel frying pan from Made-In. High off my cast iron skillet success, I chose the much cheaper unseasoned version of the Made-In skillet and decided that I would season it myself. It was an easy process and the skillet is really fun to work with. It heats quickly and gives the best sear to anything I drop into it. And, now that it’s good and seasoned, it is virtually nonstick without any of the gross stuff that is still in pans marketed as “nontoxic.”
And I rarely burn candles anymore. I said “rarely.” But when I do burn them, I burn my very toxic “Capri Blue Volcano” candle from Anthropologie and enjoy every single, smutty snuffle. It’s an iconic scent and you can pry this candle out of my cold, dead hands.
Oh - my nutritionist also said not to worry: most toxins filter out of your body in about a decade. This news relieved me. I spent a lot of time throughout high-school in close proximity to all kinds of chemicals and mechanical fumes because I worked in dad’s landscaping business. Something deep in my brain blamed all of my current hormonal chaos on those years of exposure to inarguably toxic things. Who knows? Maybe there’s some veracity in that. But I think now that I’m thirty years old, most of the weed-killer, gasoline, motor oil, blue dye, is probably out of my system…
Have any of these adjustments truly helped my health? I couldn’t say.
I don’t know if my body would be any worse off if I just lit the candles, and used Bath & Bodyworks lotion, and microwaved food in plastic takeout containers. I can’t say whether or not I’m so much more healthy for having made these swaps. I can’t say with absolute conviction that I am in a superior state of well-being as compared with someone not making these swaps.
But here’s what I do know: living with a chronic health condition is immensely frustrating. A lot of days it feels like you have no control over what your body is doing, because you really don’t. It can feel scary, sad, depressing, impossible.
I have worked long and hard to befriend my body.
I worked at it before I formally knew that I had PCOS, when I was frustrated with the way my body did things “wrong.” And I worked really hard at it last year when I got diagnosed with PCOS and learned that it would always take some extra work to bring my body into alignment.
I’ve worked really really hard to befriend my body on nights when I curl up with hot, quiet tears while Andrew holds me and we feel the pain of this together: that the story we told ourselves of how things might go is not going that way. Any season in life can be hard and hopeful. It’s often a mixed bag; a little “Hope On The Rocks” cocktail that we sip every so often when we can’t keep ignoring the “yes, and” of this place. My PCOS feels like it is effecting now, yesterday, and someday all at the same time and we can’t seem to do much about it except buy new frying pans and stop using the bad dental floss.
Yet in this trampled patch of training-ground, God is giving me courage to keep befriending this body. It is a good body. He made it, and He makes nothing carelessly. Just as I want my future children to know that their bodies are good and created with intention, I make that agreement for my own life. I want my children to know that they can be friends with their bodies. That they are actual miracles. Which means I am one too.
Here’s what I know about friendship - with your body, with your people: you do loving things for them, whether it helps all that much or not.
Making these swaps of endocrine-disrupting products for less-toxic things is a way that I befriend my body. It’s on the same plane as my workouts, staying hydrated, remembering to take my endless capsules of every shape, size, and color multiple times a day. It’s the reason I sat down and made every doctor’s appointment I was dreading before the New Year, and showed up at each one. Befriending my body is the reason that I verbally bless it when I see it in the mirror and thank God (aloud) for giving me this good body to live in and to take care of. Because broken does not equal bad. And a body in a hard place needs the same kind of care as a friend in a hard place: showing up, doing what you can, giving tender care even when you’re not seeing any marked improvement. Your body, I recently heard someone point out, is the house in which you will live out your entire life. It is the place where I experience the presence of God. It is the place that carries me through the world. I don’t want to hate it. And so I practice loving it. When it feels like an enemy (and it often feels like an enemy) I practice extending friendship.
The frying pans matter. You probably thought this was going to be a Substack ranking cookware brands, and I’m sorry it got deep and a little sad. But also I’m not sorry. Because I want you to know that it’s okay to have a body that needs some extra love. And it’s okay to make possibly-useless adjustments to your routines and environment in the name of honoring what your body needs right now. For me, that’s making these crunchy-sounding swaps. Maybe they’re not working, or maybe I’m successfully keeping my body from worse hormonal chaos by doing what little I can against the craziness of a condition I’m still learning how to navigate graciously.
In any case, I’m being a good friend to my body instead of vilifying it. And if you knew how much work that takes (I bet you know how much work that takes), these things might feel worth it to you, too. With all my love, guys, I hope you do something soft and tender for your body this week. She or he deserves your friendship, because your very existence in that very body is a miracle. Cross my heart.