onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the month “May, 2024”

Bodies gonna body

There is a brag that I have heard older women make my whole life, on TV and in movies and in real life. That they can still wear their clothes from 30 years ago or they can still fit into their wedding dress or some other claim of victory that their bodies have not changed significantly in their lifetimes.

And this is not my story. Not even a little. And not even since I got my eating under control. Actually I hear it more since quitting sugar because so many woman who do what I do with food used to yo-yo diet and then, once they gave up sugar and stopped eating compulsively, they, too, have been in the same clothes for decades. But not me.

Just in the past 18 years I have been a US size 4 and a US size 14. All weighing all of my food. When my beloved grandma was dying, I was eating bacon at every meal and giant fruits twice a day and was losing weight like crazy. Sometimes more than 5 pounds a month. When I quit smoking, my quantities of food were cut and I quit eating bacon and ate less fat and more raw vegetables and still gained weight. Over 30 pounds in 3 months. Literally eating quantifiably less, both calorically and by weight.

This was actually an important lesson for me. Because we are told and taught and treated like we have more control over our bodies than we do. At least aesthetically. And health wise too I imagine. And having specific measurable actions failed to give specific measurable results. At least not the ones I wanted.

Look. I do the things that one is supposed to do to stay healthy. I exercise regularly. I eat nutritious foods in amounts that keep me fueled mind and body. I drink water and meditate and sleep 8 hours a night. I am not saying that a person’s lifestyle doesn’t directly impact a person’s quality of life. I believe it does.

But bodies gonna body! Hormones and genetics and even brain chemistry and any of the myriad experiences that living in a meat suit offer, are all components of what I LOOK like. Of what you see when you see this body. And I am telling you that I have so much less control than I ever thought I did.

Of course I do have some very specific examples of how I do have some control. And that is fun and fascinating. I have absolutely changed the size and shape of my butt in the past year and a half through muscle building exercises. And I LOVE it. 

But when it comes to fat, to the distribution of fat, to my weight, to my size, I don’t have the kind of control I have been told I should have. The kind of control that says I can diet and exercise my way into a certain size or shape. I cannot. I have tried. It is *why* I got my eating under control in the first place. And even quitting sugar and weighing all of my food, I did not have that kind of command over my body.

But in getting my eating under control I got a clear enough head to see that I could only do my best. I could only keep my promises to myself, and let my body do its thing. And it’s doing a great job, frankly!

Living the loose life

I had a super exciting Friday night this week. A family friend was in town running sound for a touring band and I got to see him and their amazing show. And I got to meet an internet friend for the first time! And it was all magical!

One of my favorite sayings is “how you do anything is how you do everything.” And in getting my eating under control I ended up changing basically everything about my life. 

I never wanted to do anything in preparation for anything when I was growing up as a sugar addict and compulsive eater. And as a really talented and intelligent addict, that was an easy lifestyle to execute but a difficult one to bear. It meant never preparing for anything and then having to constantly worry and overthink and perform spectacularly in the moment. I always wanted to “fly by the seat of my pants” but I don’t think I understood the toll it was taking on my peace and joy. All because preparation felt like work and work felt hard.

In order to get my eating under control, I had to start planning and preparing in advance to have what I needed to eat. I was told that I should be the most important person in my own life and that if I cared about getting sober from sugar and not eating compulsively, I was going to have to make sure that my food was taken care of. And that *I* very specifically needed to do it. 

I must weigh my portions myself. It’s part of my spiritual relationship with food and my ability to be totally honest and responsible for everything that goes into my mouth. I need to read ingredients. I need to ask how things are cooked at restaurants. I need to refuse to eat things that are not on my approved menu. Even if it’s something made just for me. Even with love. 

So now, I find that my life is so much the opposite. I plan and prepare all the things so I can relax in the moment.

Friday before I left I made sure everything was taken care of: My home, my husband, my food for the weekend, my dinner for the night, my tickets, my Ubers, my friends’ needs, my schedule, ALL THE THINGS! And that made me feel great about myself. That made me feel calm about my night. That made me feel like now all I had to do was go with the flow. And then I just got to be in the moment. I didn’t have to worry or overthink. I got to enjoy the moment and the music, my new friend and my old one.

Growing up my eating was addictive and out of control and it forced me to use ridiculous amounts of energy to try to keep myself together and show up for the most basic life tasks. I had to keep myself so tight and reined in, because of how loose my eating was. Now I keep my food tight so I can live my life loose instead. 

Ready for a nice time on a nice day

In 45 minutes, I need to be out the door for Mother’s Day. We have to pick up the beef sandwich set ups and the appetizer tray, and the chicken tenders. And my brother-in-law is bringing the sodas and the snacks and dessert. 

And none of it is for me. I have a lunch packed. I will bring my diet soft drinks because I’m the only one who drinks them. I even bring my own silverware and a mini spatula so I don’t lick my plate or bowl in front of everyone. Because I would. And in a pinch I still will. Hence the bringing of the spatula. 

I leave nothing about my food to chance. And I love that for me. I know I can count on myself to do my best and care. 

I don’t miss Chicago Italian beef sandwiches, though they have been off the list for over 18 years. Are they spectacular? Of course. Are they worth picking up the drug that makes me hate myself? Absolutely not. 

A lot of people say just have one. As if it were an obvious answer. 

If I could just have one, my friend, I would not do this. Why would I choose all this work if I were capable of moderation?

I am happy to provide fun party foods to others. I am happy to go to a family event with people who have never known me any way but bringing my own food to every event. It’s a nice day and I’m ready to have a nice time. 

I want to be myself more

I don’t love change. But I love having changed. I love having grown. And though I have never had a baby, when they say childbirth is the kind of pain you forget, I feel like that is what changing is like. Because I forget how bad it sucks when I am deep in the process and haven’t quite figured out how to be the thing that I am not yet, even though it is *right there*! 

When I quit sugar and got a handle on my compulsive eating, there were simple, if not easy rules. There is a list of foods I eat. I eat portion controlled meals of them 3 times a day. I choose whatever I want within the boundaries. I don’t eat anything else. Did it take something to not eat cake in the beginning? Of course it did. But there was no mystery to if I had done it. Did I follow the rules? Then I had done it.

When I quit smoking, one of the hardest things was the ways I had built it into my day and my life. The first cigarette of the day with a cup of coffee on my roof. The cigarette upon coming out of the subway onto the street. Where to stand to not be in the way. The cigarette after a meal. The last one before bed. But at least all of those things, I could see! I could tack them up on a calendar if I wanted and come up with new strategies to combat them if I needed. 

But just changing, growing, choosing to be a more authentic version of myself, and then doing it again, and again, there is no calendar and no map. It’s just me trying to change the air I breathe and the water I’m swimming in. 

It hurts. It sucks. It puts a strain on so many parts of my life that have depended on me being the way I was. The point is, I do have these inauthenticities built into my day like a cigarette. But I can’t put them on a calendar. I can’t pinpoint them on a map. I don’t even know where they are until I bump up against them. Or sometimes ram into them head first. 

But ultimately I want to be myself more than I want to be comfortable. No. I want to be myself more than I want to be anything else in the world.

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