onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the category “Body image”

Twenty years ago and a lifetime ago

Twenty years ago today I was pretty miserable. 

I don’t think about it much at all now. Not even as my anniversaries approach year by year. 

But someone said something to me recently that reminded me that 20 years ago right now, I was 28 years old, I was an exercise bulimic and a regular old stick a toothbrush down your throat bulimic, I had gained 30 pounds since Halloween two months earlier, and I was terrified because I could not see a way out. 

But also, it was good for me. A kind of shock to my system. I had hit a bottom. 

Once I started trying to make myself throw up, I could not pretend that I didn’t have a problem. We had reached After School Special levels of not okay.

As I approach my 20th anniversary this week, I get to really remember the excruciating pain of existing in the food. I could not stop eating. I could not stop punishing my body for it. With laxatives, with bulimia, with exercise to the point of and past injury, with harming myself any way I thought I had to so I could be in a different body. BUT STILL I COULD NOT STOP EATING!

So yes, it basically comes down to the fact that I am grateful for the ability to stop eating. Food thoughts don’t plague me. All of my eating is guilt free. I have a life beyond my wildest dreams. I have the ability to live a life between my meals. And love my meals 3 times a day. 

These boundaries are freedom. This freedom is liking, loving, and trusting myself. This is nearly two decades of increasing peace.

So here’s to my gratitude for the past almost 20 years and here’s to a lifetime more. 

The least interesting thing about the whole thing

I have been thinking about my body a lot lately. Because people are probably coming to take my photo for a magazine. It is to accompany an article about a book that talks about addictive eating. And I am an example of someone who successfully changed my eating lifestyle. 

Right around the time I had just turned 28, I was doing a self help seminar and the instructor asked me what I wanted to get out of it. And my answer was “for my body to stop being an issue.” 

By the end of that seminar I was no longer eating sugar and grains and I was weighing and measuring my food. My body didn’t stop being an issue at that very moment, but it was the first step in a long and continuing journey. And it worked. 

In getting my eating under control I started to think of my body as myself. I started to think of my body as a wonderful vessel that provided all of my abilities! I started to think of my body as sacred and undeserving of being judged. ESPECIALLY for its size and shape and “perceived beauty.” I started this blog to really start to dismantle all of the ways I lived small. And hating my body was one of my biggest obstacles.

The way I think about my body and my weight has slowly but entirely shifted in the past almost 20 years. But here is a situation where it is in someone else’s best interest to “show off” my body in a certain way. In a certain light.

And it’s making me feel insecure. What if I don’t look thin enough? What if I don’t impress everyone the way this magazine wants me to?

Which makes me a little mad at myself. And a little ashamed. Because I don’t want to feel insecure about my amazing body. And I don’t want to reduce getting my eating under control to “weight loss.” Because losing weight is the least important or interesting thing about getting control of my sugar addiction.

But I also know that I only started to get my eating under control because I wanted to stop hating my body. And what I hated at the time was being fat. And I don’t think I could have found myself all the way over here honoring all bodies and dismantling my anti-fatness if I hadn’t been desperate to stop being fat.

What I have been reminding myself is that I am not selling anything. And that I am not invested in having my picture in a magazine. But I am VERY invested in sharing the message that if you can’t stop eating and it’s making you miserable, there is a solution. 

An almost 20 year head start

I got my eating under control at 28. And that is a miracle. For me. But also, it’s not common. 

Most people (definitely not all) who come into food recovery are women. And most women come in about my age now. I’m 48. Essentially, when their hormones are changing. And when that need to please is greatly reduced.

I heard a woman say that society calls menopause “The Change” because that’s what it is for men. Their wives and mothers change. The women they relied on for everything are no longer as reliable, and some of the wives just LEAVE! (Can you imagine????) 

The older I get, and the less “reliable” my body gets, the MORE reliable my heart and soul and passion are. The more creative I am. The more proud I am of the time I spend learning and making and the product of my work. The more inspired and excited I am.

And I have all of this because in January of 2006 I decided that my sugar addiction had such a hold on me, that it would be better to give up all of my joy (I really thought that food was my only joy) than to live the rest of my life with the compulsion to eat and all of the shame that came with it.

A thing I hear a lot now is “I love your energy.” And they are right! I have great energy. I know I do because I WORK at it. And it’s a product of a lot of things that most people don’t actually like when it’s happening to them. 

You love my energy? I say NO to things that drain my energy. I limit my interactions with negativity and greed. I limit my interactions with drama. Even if I like you. Even if I love you. I say NO! I protect myself first, my family second, my friends third. 

And all of this is cumulative. I am just weeks shy of 20 years of taking care of my eating and letting that be the first step in taking care of the rest of my life. All of the rest of my life. So I have an almost 20 year head start of loving my body, of choosing my own peace and my own path, of living without resentment for the way I failed to measure up to someone else’s standards. An almost 20 year head start on so many women addicted to food, to sugar, to the idea of a perfect woman and the perfect body, or at least a “better body” that someone wants to sell us all. And I refuse to take that for granted. 

Tips on how to eat more

I’m hungry and tired lately. Maybe it’s the change of seasons. Maybe it’s the switch from over a pound of melon every morning for breakfast to a big (14 ish oz) apple, that is delicious, but does not weigh over a pound. Or maybe it’s spending my days with a not quite 4 month old kitten. But I’m rarely fully rested and satisfied lately. 

I like to feel stuffed. I like to feel a little overfull. I prefer that to any kind of hunger. And once that was a source of deep shame because I was fat I was supposed to eat less. I was not allowed to feel satisfied!

And of course, nobody was really allowed to. There was a new strategy to eat less in each women’s magazine, every single month.

Drink water instead of eating because you might just be thirsty! Ask for lemon in the water and suck on a lemon wedge. Only ever eat 3/4 of what is on your plate. Drink a full glass of water before you eat so you are already a little full. Eat slowly and then wait for 20 minutes to see if you are still hungry. Use a smaller plate to trick your brain into thinking there is more food. 

All of these are things normal women did and do on a regular basis to eat less. Just so that they could take up less space in the world.

I don’t have a “done” button. It’s a part of my addiction. I don’t know when I have had enough. I could literally eat a whole other meal after every single meal. Even after 19+ years of having my eating under control. I’m telling you sometimes I eat POUNDS OF FOOD, and *could* literally do the whole thing again. Which is why I have a food program to this day. 

But I do have the capacity to feel happily stuffed and I love that I no longer feel beholden to the idea that I should always eat less if I can. I eat more. I eat the biggest and the best. I eat to be satisfied. And to not be satisfied is the exception and not the rule.

I always wanted to eat more and I was ashamed of it. Now I am unashamedly joyful to eat the biggest fruit. The fattiest protein. The yogurt with 10% milk fat. The most filling and satisfying meal I can think of with no drug foods in it.

Getting my eating under control meant guilt free eating. And more importantly, guilt free satisfaction. 

I know this too shall pass. I bet if I go back through my blogs there is a lot of “hunger” in the months I switch from melons to apples. But forgetting stuff like that is also part of my addiction.

A particularly freeing choice

Last week we went to the house we own in the Chicago suburbs, and while I was there I dropped off most of my summer clothes picked up some fall clothes. 

And I noticed a few things. That some clothes still technically fit but were unflattering because I bought them for the me with a smaller butt. And that the clothes that I do have and still wear are a huge range of sizes. Size 8 pants. Size 14 pants. Size medium pants.  Size Large pants. Size XL pants. 

The thing is clothing companies clearly *want* us to have a reaction to sizes. And different people have different reactions. Some women want to see a smaller number so some companies size everything bigger. Some companies size everything smaller. In fact some women shop at places that don’t carry more than a few small sizes because they want the exclusivity of fitting into a limited skinny size range. 

Sizes are not actually helpful because they are not standardized. They are a kind of psychological warfare. Because thinness is considered a virtue in the Western world, and women are expected to strive for it. And I spent most of my life trying to strive for it and failing. Or striving and then failing.

About 3 years ago I started doing exercises to build my butt muscles. And I have entirely changed the shape of my lower body. And that was the first time in my life that the goal was “bigger.” Previously, the goal had only ever been smaller. 

The goal of bigger meant that the number/letters on the clothing tags had less impact. The truth is my size did go down at first as I lost fat and built muscle. But when they started to go back up I was happy, not freaked out. When what was filling out the pants was butt and not belly, I had the experience of loving bigger! I had the option of thinking about drape and fit with bigger sizes because I was not obsessed with the smallest possible numbers!

I quit smoking cigarettes about 13 years ago, and I gained weight uncontrollably. Even though I was still weighing and measuring all of my food. And it was making me crazy so I stopped weighing my body. The number on the scale would mess with my head. It didn’t matter if I thought I looked great in the mirror. 

Because there are numbers that are good and numbers that are bad. Numbers we should be. Single digit sizes. S M L. And numbers we should not be. Anything with Xs on the tag. Double digits. And we, as girls, learn this. From our family members, from our peers, from random ass women on the street making their judgements known.

I guarantee every girl and woman has a number she should be and a number she is. And almost all of the time, the number she should be is smaller than the number she is. 

And the goalposts move.

I didn’t even know how much this impacted me until it stopped happening to me. I did sort of know. You can’t not know growing up a woman in the U.S. But I had no idea how deep rooted it was until it changed in my head. Because I chose muscle. I didn’t even know I was choosing muscle over skinny when it started. I was just enjoying having a butt for the first time in my life as a grown woman! 

But it turned out I was making a choice. And it was a particularly freeing one. 

Strong over skinny.

Ilona Maher, the Olympic medalist in women’s rugby turned social media star did a cute little video where she makes fun of the old saying that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. And she says, she thinks feeling strong feels better and also have you tried tiramisu?

Obviously I don’t eat tiramisu anymore, because sugar is poison for me, but I will not give up my yogurt with 10% milk fat, my salt and vinegar pork rinds, or my crunchy cheese to be smaller. Smaller for what? For whom? 

And when I really thought about it, I NEVER felt comfortable, confident, or content when I was skinny. 

I didn’t even KNOW I was skinny! I was struggling with my body every moment. Even after I had stopped struggling with my food.

I was trying to figure out how to be the most beautiful woman I could be. And I thought it had to do with what I projected rather than what I was *being.* And I was absolutely positive it had to do with being small and also shaped like a supermodel. Or fooling the world around me into thinking I was that.

In fact, it was the uncontrollable weight gain that happened after I quit smoking, the worst emotional pain of my life since I had gotten my eating under control, that forced me to stop striving for skinny as a goal. At all. I was eating less food, fewer calories, and moving more. And I just gained weight. There was nothing left but to give my weight to the Universe and say, welp, I guess this is your problem now.

BUT! That didn’t really happen the way I wanted it to for another 10 years. I got more and more comfortable in my skin, but I would not really give up on “smaller” as the goal until I started to focus on muscle. On strength. On balance and flexibility. On what my body could DO!

So I concur. Feeing strong feels better than feeling skinny. Because skinny is illusive. It has a slippery definition, and it is tied, culturally, to “perfection” and “true beauty.” And it does not serve anyone. But strength is easy to see and understand, and to use to the benefit of our friends, ourselves and those we would offer it to. 

I did learn one lesson…

I am very into dressing my changed and changing body lately. Really exploring my personal style. Cuts and fabrics. The way things drape. Colors I want to wear. Fewer neutrals. More statement pieces.

My best friend started me thinking about it a few years ago. Dressing “her.” The woman I am stepping into. The woman I want to be. 

The last time I felt like this, like dressing for the life I want, was when I bought all the clothes for my March 2020 Floriada Keys trip. The trip where Covid broke out. And I ended up not really becoming that woman. The world for that woman didn’t exist anymore. Like buying clothes for a gala, and getting a 3 year long, relatively depressing, pajama party. (I use the term party loosely.)

I have mentioned before that there are a lot of women who do what I do with food, who get their eating and sugar addiction under control, loose a bunch of weight, and basically never change bodies again. They don’t *have to* buy new clothes. Their old clothes just continue to fit. And this is not my story. My body has changed myriad ways and times since I got my eating under control 19 1/2 years ago.

I used to think that was a curse. Or at least a burden. But as I get older, and look at all of the amazing different lives I have lived in my 48 years on the planet, and I can see that getting to live like this, in my body, in my work, in my creativity, in my beliefs and experiences, is a gift. 

I can sincerely say that since I have been in food recovery, I feel blessed to have lived so much and so many lives. 

But also, I did learn one lesson. Even my fancy clothes must be comfortable. In case of another 3 years of being home bound. So at least I can feel beautiful while I snuggle up with some crochet and an audiobook series.

This old(ish) dog’s new tricks.

It’s sort of crazy to me to think that over the past two and a half years so many things in my life and my body are entirely different than they used to be.

About 3 and a half years ago I got sick and I didn’t get better. And I hated doctors. I spent my young life fat and was not treated very well by doctors. And as an adult I was poor and didn’t have insurance so I just sort of managed. Went to a clinic if I had to, but mostly just rode it out. 

But I am married to a union construction worker. We have excellent insurance. Yet I still didn’t want to go. Doctors were a traumatic experience for me most of my life. And even unable to breathe I didn’t want to go. To the point that my husband was at his wits’ end. 

I will say that even right from the start, I had a whole bunch of experiences that reminded me that there is a reason I don’t like doctors. I was treated with so much condescension by several. And I have to say that being an incredibly smart person, being treated like a child by a person whose mother I could be, really brings out the bitch in me. (I literally had to stop myself from explaining the logical fallacy used by the probably 20 something first year resident while she was condescending to me…I did hold my tongue. Keeping my eating under control keeps my tongue under control too. For the most part.)

But here is the deal. That one change, being willing to go to the doctor to deal with my breathing, made a huge shift in both my physical body and my experience of it. 

When I stopped running because I could not breathe, I started walking stairs. Walking stairs gave me a butt that I never had. Having a butt moved my center of balance back from my toes to my middle foot. The shift in my balance made my short right leg tighter and more noticeable. That made me put a lift in one shoe to accommodate my short leg from being born with a club foot. 

Today I walk different. I workout different. My right hip rarely hurts anymore. My clothes fit differently, so that my belly is smaller and less noticeable. 

And I go to the doctor. Regularly. I have a doctor that I adore. And I have a particular phlebotomist that always gets me perfectly on the first stick. (Blood draws have always been another problem for me and I would often end up bruised all inside my elbow.)

But changing the way I ate at 28, giving up my drug food, weighing my food, eating only 3 times a day, created the opportunity to change. Anything. Anytime. If I could change my eating I could literally change any aspect of my life. Yes it takes work. But everything worth anything takes work.

And I am 48. I am old(ish). Which means you apparently can teach an old(ish) dog new tricks.

Get in line

I saw a video on social media this week that I have been thinking about. It was about how to spot and stop manipulators. But the point was that the hardest person to manipulate is the one who is in alignment with themselves.

The person who knows what they want, what they stand for, what they want to achieve and create, and who they want to be in the world, isn’t going to be swayed by anything other than something even more in alignment with their heart and head. 

I spend a lot of time worrying I’m doing life wrong. And will probably never entirely grow out of it. But this was a nice little reminder for me. 

Because getting my eating under control is how I learned to listen to myself. I had so much noise in my head when I was eating compulsively. Most of it was about food and eating and craving, but it was also about shame. What I did wrong. What I failed to do. How I was lacking. How I was broken. How I was ugly and wrong.

When I was in the food, I could not see what I wanted. And if I thought I could, but the world didn’t agree, I assumed I was wrong, not the world. 

But here’s the thing. The world often doesn’t agree with me. I’m not particularly interested in its conventions. And once I made friends with that, it was easier to be authentic. After all, the world doesn’t really want me to quit sugar and grains. It upsets a whole group. People who have zero stake in my eating have had all sorts of opinions about it. Strangers! And there is a whole ultra specific group that thinks that what I do is not only useless but harmful. People on the internet insisting that sugar addiction isn’t a thing. That it is about food morality. That I am a fatphobe monster because I assert that I have a problem with sugar and that sugar can be addictive. 

Look. Just to clarify, I don’t think every fat person is an addict. I don’t care if a person is fat. I don’t think fat people need to lose weight. I don’t think that anyone owes anyone else any explanations of their food or their body.

But I was getting drunk on sugar from childhood and it was ruining my life. And want to help a compulsive eater and sugar addict who still suffers. (P.S. Not all sugar addicts are fat. I want to help them too.)

But that is part of how getting my eating under control helped me align myself and my principles and my past. It was only in putting boundaries around my eating that I could separate my fatness from my addiction. Come to love my body in all its iterations. To feed it nourishing foods. And not worry about health or weight. Just worry about not doing my drug foods. Just worry about not using. Take the morality *out* of food.

And every time I make a choice that makes people who are not me look at me funny, I remember who I am, what I want, what I want to create and what legacy I am leaving. And I have enough clarity of mind and purpose to actually know the answer. And all of that is the culmination of 19 1/2 years of keeping boundaries around my eating. 

Nothing to miss

First for those of you interested in a Suren update, she has apparently moved her kittens (that I have still never seen, but assume exist somewhere) but she is clearly still in my close vicinity. When I am around she comes for two meals a day. And when I am not, I know my sweet neighbor feeds her at least once a day. And I think occasionally more if she comes by. But she is still skinny and wary. And I adore her.

I just want to say that this week I have eaten like a queen. Ribs and meatloaf and tonight a roast that has been cooking for 2 days. Plus sautéed green beans and of course my ice cream and salt and vinegar pork rinds.

God I love to eat. I am so grateful that I still find intense joy in eating almost every day and every meal. Over the past 19 years I have been learning to enjoy the little things. Moments with people and animals and the natural world. Though that is perhaps just aging.

But I never needed to be convinced to love a good meal. 

I have a lot on my mind lately. But none of it is about my body, my eating, obsessive food thoughts, or how much I hate myself. Plus I get to eat joyfully and without guilt three times a day. Which is priceless. 

I don’t miss sugar or trying and failing to be normal with food. There’s nothing to miss.

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