onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the month “July, 2026”

I’ve been down that path. It sucked…

I heard recently that there is link between telling girls they are fat and them becoming fat. Not girls who were already big or trending toward weight gain. Girls across the body spectrum were 60% more likely to become fat if they were told they were fat as children. And NOT because of their diet. It is through a cortisol path. Hormones. That the shame of being told this *literally* instructs the body to store energy as fat. 

It is a self fulfilling prophecy that we blame the girls/women for.

I actually had heard about this many years ago from Gary Taubes, who wrote The Case Against Sugar. He said that “calories in calories out” isn’t true because some foods affect our hormones, and fat storage is essentially a job for hormones. He also noted that sugar, especially processed sugar, affects our hormones as much as it nourishes. This of course made perfect sense to me. Because after I stopped eating compulsively and quit sugar and grains, and I lost a lot of weight, those calories never added up. I ate SO MUCH FOOD! High calorie and decadent. And I was a skinny!

And then I quit smoking and gained 30 pounds eating less and lower calorie. Quantifiably less. (Remember, I weigh all of my food.) And the answer was that smoking also affects your hormones. 

We have used weight as a moral issue for decades; centuries. By insisting it’s the actions of the individual alone that create fatness, without any understanding of why or how our bodies work. And we have brought it into being by shaming girls, any girl.

There is an uptick in anti-fat sentiment that promotes disordered eating right now. There is woman who posted a few months ago that if you weigh more than 160 pounds you don’t have the right to give her attitude. Ma’am, if I’m going to give you attitude, your opinion about my body is irrelevant to me. My attitude isn’t based on the holy vessel of another being. For you, it would be because you’re an ass. 

(Also HOW BIG DOES THIS WOMAN THINK 160 POUNDS IS???? And any height? Like if she’s 6’ does that count? Where did she get this number? Is she 157????)

Then I saw a MAN get on the internet to say that size 14 is plus sized. Bitc- ahem, Sir! You are not part of this conversation. This is for women to decide where to shop. Not for you to morally dehumanize and degrade the majority of post-pubescent women. If your ideal partner had body is of a teen girl…well, there’s a term for that….

So here is your reminder that weight is not an indicator of health. That you cannot see what a person eats by the size or shape of their body. And that EVEN IF THEY ARE UNHEALTHY people still have the right to exist in peace and love in their beautiful fat bodies. 

No stoop for you

My threshold for settling or pivoting or accommodating is rapidly diminishing. 

A couple of weeks ago, I reached out to some painters and only one guy got back to me. And then he proceeded to be out of contact for a week. By the time he got back to me, I still didn’t have a painter. But I knew my painter wasn’t him. (I have since gotten my apartment painted by someone else and I love it!)

Then I needed someone to do a repair on the house we are selling. Since my husband and I live on the road in a different town, I had my sister-in-law let a handyman from a service in and ask him to call me so I could get explain exactly what the job entailed. He never called. He wrote up an estimate of “what he would do if it were his house.” 

At first I blamed myself for not traveling all the way there to talk to him in person. My sister-in-law then called me apologizing telling me she tried to get him to call me. That she wrote my number down and handed it to him.

That was when it occurred to me that there were two 40 something women apologizing for not making it possible for this man to do his job. A job he easily could have done if he had just followed directions. The first step was just to call me.

Needless to say, I didn’t even look at the estimate. If I can’t trust someone to listen I should not give them the job. I texted them that I would not be using them. 

But this was scary! Because this company is so well respected in our suburb. These are the 5 star people. So who am I to say they are not for me?

Anyway I have a different guy coming tomorrow to start taking out my bathroom sink and wall. 

Even my husband has felt this change. We were looking at air fresheners the other day, and he picked one and said, if we don’t like it we can change it. So I said ok. But then we got like 5 steps and I said to myself, Kate, you hate that brand and you most definitely don’t like “Ocean” scented stuff.  So I said sorry. Nope. Can’t do it. 

I want to be clear that I am very good at going with the flow. And marriage has taught me that I only need to have an opinion when I really have an opinion. If my husband had picked something tropical, which is not my favorite, but is lovely and is one we can both agree on, I could have not had an opinion. I wouldn’t need to say that I would prefer something more floral. It would have been fine and I would been content.

But I hate ocean. Why does it smell like the worst of the 90s???

I don’t need to settle for something that is just going to make me unhappy. I don’t need to be annoyed when I can just opt out. 

Resentment is poison for me. And it almost always happens because I knew better and I didn’t listen to myself. 

20 years of weighing my food and abstaining from my drug foods, like processed sugar and carbohydrates, has taught me to be my most authentic self. Every day I don’t eat compulsively, or eat to get high, is a day I have a clearer path to my truest heart. 

So every time I see that clear path and choose something else to please someone else, I get resentful. 

The truth is I have always been resentful. It’s just that having my eating under control lets me see that it’s not actually anyone else’s fault. That my resentment is a lack of responsibility. 

I take responsibility every time I say “no, that’s not for me.” And I end up getting what I want with out a bunch of extra steps.

Gentle parenting my little addict

At the beginning of this year I had no idea I would be moving out of our suburban house and into a city condo. And here it is, July, and before the end of the summer I will be out of a house that I love and into a high rise condo that I love.

And I am overwhelmed with feelings. 

I want this move. I want to go to the grocery store on foot. I want to go to fun places on the train and the bus. I want to just walk around the city as a pastime!

I used to walk around New York just to be out and about. I tried walking in the early days of suburban living, but walking the suburbs (not to mention when we lived in Texas or Mississippi) is not the same. It doesn’t feel like a solo date the way a city walk can. And now I will be close to both mundane and fancy shopping. The lake and river walks. The beaches. The museums. Little coffee shops. Beautiful views.

But I am also going to miss our house. We renovated it just to our liking. I had a double oven and a high capacity washer and dryer, and a rain shower head plus a handheld shower head, and a weeping cherry tree and a Japanese maple, and 4 tall grasses along our driveway, but one that was always shorter and wider and wilder that we called “Milo.” I had lots of room for clothes and crafts and just stuff in general. A garage. A swing in my back yard. A back yard.

A move like this is a big deal for me. It is a dream come true. It is also a kind of breakthrough in my self. Emotionally and spiritually. To understand “manifestation” differently. To understand how the world works differently. 

But in order to understand something differently, is to change. And change for me is a kind of crisis. Every time. Even now when the change seems to be a wonderful opportunity and a deeper understanding of the power of my own authenticity. 

Getting everything I want is, indeed, a crisis to my nervous system.

It’s just that I have made friends with crisis. 

In child development, they say a secure child is one who has a parent who is both warm and firm. One who can hold a boundary with love. And when I got my eating under control, I had to learn how to do that for the little addict in me, that terrified little girl who was going to DIE if she had to feel this feeling one more minute. 

Yes you are having a crisis. Yes it’s very scary and parts of this are going to be hard and painful. Remember all of the times you thought things would be hard and now you are good at them. No we can’t stop and quit right now. Yes you still have to sign all the paperwork. Maybe later we can go through two drawers and see what we can get rid of. You don’t have to do it right now. You’re doing a great job already. Why don’t you have lunch and then see how you feel. Go to sleep and tomorrow you can decide what you want to do next.

It turns out that gentle parenting my addict lets me take thoughtful action in the face of fear, instead of reacting (usually freezing – so my reaction was generally an entire lack of action.)

To have my feelings be in their proper place, as guideposts and stop signs, is a gift, but it took something. It took changing the way I thought, and the way I thought was enmeshed in the way I ate. I had a bad feeling, I ate a drug food that lit up my brain’s reward center, I was calm enough to not care and not take action, and then soon enough I was sober and still had the same problem, now for longer, and still no solution. And that felt yucky. So I ate a drug food to get rid of that bad feeling.

You can clearly see where this is going…(or can you? I am told there is a literacy crisis.)

By not ever eating drug foods anymore, I stopped using certain thoughts. They never got triggered by the reward cycle. The path got overgrown. New thoughts got used. More and more often. The rewards were for different things, like achieving long term goals, instead of instant gratification.

The reality is, that until we are entirely out of our suburban house, are mostly unpacked from the move, and the keys are in the new owners’ hands, I will not be chill. But on the other side will be a new kind of chill. One I have not experienced yet.

Also, if I can keep my eating boundaries for 20 years, I can manage to keep my shit together for 2 months while we do what regular people do all the time. Move. 

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