onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the category “Body image”

Less bacon…but still a life beyond my wildest dreams

I was talking to a friend this morning who does what I do with food, and we were talking about how when we were eating compulsively we could never listen to our bodies because we were stuffing them too full with food for them to really tell us anything.

Over the past couple of months I have been losing weight quickly. And since I only eat 3 weighed and measured meals a day, I was eating a lot of high fat proteins like bacon and pork rinds to satisfy my hunger. It allowed me to feed myself enough calories to stave off the gnawing stomach pains. And that really helped. Until last week. When it became clear that my body didn’t need that much fat every day anymore. And it didn’t want it anymore either. 

Over the past few days I started eating more leaner proteins with my meals along with my fatty ones. I am still me and I will always eat bacon. But in smaller quantities for now. 

It’s a miracle that I can hear what my body has to say. That I knew to eat heavier, and now I know to dial it back. That my body is an ever changing vessel and it needs different things at different times and that if I pay attention, it will make it clear to me what it needs. And that I am not shoving it full of so much junk that I have numbed myself and smothered anything it had to tell me.

When I keep simple sugars and carbs out of my body, I keep a clear head, which lets me listen to my body and my life and make choices accordingly. And because of that I have a life that I could never have imagined before I got my eating under control. Truly a life beyond my wildest dreams.

I’ll cry instead

I am a crier. I have always been a crier. And for most of my life it was a source of shame. It was not ok o cry. I was supposed to be strong. I was too sensitive. I was wrong, and I needed to stop crying. But I could not. I have never been able to just stop crying. It has never been a thing that I could just have a handle on. Never.

But in the past 17 years I have had to cry less and less. The longer I have my eating under control, I less I need to cry. I am generally much less unhappy. And generally have much less stress. For myriad reasons. Plenty of them things like meditation and exercise. But also getting myself into fewer bad situations because I’m not lying and cheating. I don’t act like an addict anymore.

But I actually love to cry in safe situations. More than love it. It’s probably one of my favorite things in the world. I am obsessed with novels. And I realized years ago that I am much more likely to give a book 5 stars if it makes me cry. Especially a particularly emotional and cathartic sobbing. (My poor sensitive husband. I always make sure he knows that it’s the book, just the book! But he still doesn’t actually like to see the crying.)

And then I read an article this week that said that crying is the nervous system’s way of regulating after “fight or flight.” And that it sends out all of these really good feeling brain chemicals to calm you down. And that all made a *lot* of sense to me. And shifted the way I think about certain things.

It gave me an inkling as to why I have never been able to get control of it. It made me recognize that I was sent into that fight or flight response a lot for most of my early life. Easily and regularly. And that probably for exactly that reason, I was kind of addicted to the chemicals of crying. Also, that I generally do it less now that my eating is under control because it’s much rarer for me to be in a position to go into fight or flight mode. And it makes a lot of sense to me that I still want to be getting all the brain chemical rewards without the actual danger.

I made friends with my crying a long time ago. People hate it. I know that. But I had two choices. Hate myself for not being able to control it, or get a sense of humor about it. I choose the humor. And the safety of novels.

The perfect body

This week I had to do a mid-week grocery run. And there is a discount department store right next to that grocery store. So I went in to get myself some workout pants that fit. And I figured while I was there, I should try on some real actual pants with things like buttons and zippers and figure out what size I actually am at the moment. 

I bought size medium workout clothes and figured out that I am currently a U.S. size 10 in pants, down from a U.S. size 14.

I have so many very complicated feelings about this.

This weight loss is, at least in part, the result of the workout I am doing. And one of the reasons I am doing it is because I love the effect it is having on my butt. I have never before had a butt, and now I do. And I really really love it. I can see the difference in the mirror and feel it when I sit down. And now that I am enjoying having a butt, I have a different feeling about pants in general as a clothing option. 

But I have spent the last 11 or 12 years trying to dismantle the ingrained idea that thinner is better. And yet, when I see the “M” or the “10,” I have a huge reaction. My brain sends out all sorts of happy messages! Skinny! Pretty! Good Girl! And then it gets excited about how much thinner I could get. Could I be an 8? A 6??? Could I be a SMALL?!?!?  And then it follows up with a burst of fear! How will we keep it going? How can we speed it up? What if it stops?

And in a blink, staying a size 10 is the worst possible thing that could happen to me. 

So what I have decided to remember is that as long as I am keeping my eating boundaries, I am in exactly the right body I am supposed to be in. That whether I am a 6 or a 16, as long as I am weighing my food and abstaining from sugars and simple carbohydrates, I am in the perfect body for me and my life.

When Rational Kate isn’t invited to the party

I have a lot of messed up body image issues. But they are usually dormant because I have my eating under control.

If we consider 26 the age at which our brains are done developing, then I was either fat or bulimic for my formative years. And that had an effect on the way I think about my body.

My eyes are broken. I can’t “eyeball” my food. If I’m hungry, 4 ounces of meat looks tiny. If I’m not hungry it looks like a mountain. 

The same is true for my body. When I first got my eating under control and started getting physically smaller, I would startle when I walked past a window and saw my own reflection. I once saw a picture of myself where my face was obscured and I literally asked someone who it was. Because I could not imagine that the thighs on the woman in the picture could be my thighs.

And right now I am having a sort of body-dysmorphic episode. (It’s fine. I’m fine.)

For about two months I have been doing a more intense exercise routine where I do 30 minutes of cardio on my mini stepper 5 days a week, instead of a 2 mile jog. I have been losing weight. My butt is noticeably perkier, and my clothes are noticeably looser. But for the past week or two, I have been flitting in and out of these weird little thought pockets where I “can’t see the results.” Times when I think the changes in my butt are all in my head. Times when I think all the bacon I am eating is making me fat.

Rational Kate knows that all of this is ridiculous. I can literally feel the difference in my butt when I sit down. I can feel my workout pants getting bigger every time I pull them on. But if having my eating under control has taught me anything (and it has taught me so many things) it’s that rational Kate doesn’t always get invited to the party. 

The answer of course is that there is no answer. The answer is to not make any rash decisions about my food or my body for the moment. It’s to keep doing what I am doing and the crazy will eventually go dormant again. And eventually it will come back again. The answer is to make friends with the dysmorphia, without letting it make any plans.

I don’t have to listen to the crazy because I have my food taken care of. All of my calm(ish) indifference to a very emotional part of my life experience (being fat in our culture sucks if you did not know) is possible because I have boundaries around my eating and a supportive community who wants me to be my most authentic self.

Ups and downs and how little control I have over them

I don’t weigh myself. I haven’t for about 10 years. I used to. Once a month. Most people who do what I do with food weigh themselves on the first. 

But when I quit smoking over 10 years ago, I gained a bunch of weight. I was keeping my eating boundaries and gaining weight anyway. It was really difficult. I was having nightmares about my weight and getting on the scale. And I would weigh myself on the first and be relieved that I didn’t have to do it again for another month. But the relief only lasted a week, tops. And then I was obsessed with what I could do to not gain more weight by the next time.

But I was not overeating. I was not doing any of the things that conventional wisdom tells us make us gain weight. I was eating less and less calorie dense foods and weighing more.

I started losing weight about 6 months ago. And since we have moved back home and I got a mini stepper two months ago, the weight loss is quicker. The other day I put on a dress that I bought 5 or 6 years ago and that used to be just the right amount of snug on me. Now it hangs off of me. Pants that used to be tight are now way too big and I have to roll the waistband down twice to get them in a comfortable position.

A lot of people who do what I do talk about how they still wear the same clothes from years ago. But that is not my story.

My story is that my weight has changed many times in the past 17 years. Not just when I quit smoking. And that I personally don’t have any answers as to why. I have gained weight eating all salads. And I am currently losing weight eating ridiculous amounts of bacon and pork rinds. Weighed and measured yes. So there is a limit. But bacon and pork rinds don’t weigh all that much.

I decided years ago that I would concentrate on keeping my food addiction under control and not worry about my weight. That whatever weight I am when I am weighing and measuring my food is exactly the right weight for me to be. 

But I still live in our society. And I am most definitely conditioned to think that getting smaller is always automatically good. So I keep an eye on those thoughts. I don’t entertain them. And I won’t make any major lifestyle changes, like longer or more intense workouts, without talking to a trusted person about them first.

I want to be strong and healthy. I want to love my body. But I don’t want that love to be contingent to my weight or size. I don’t want that love to be contingent on anything.

Enjoying my butt and my bacon

I have been losing weight over the past few months. And quickly. And I don’t know exactly why. But I suppose I have an idea. I have started a more vigorous step workout. And I can breathe easily. But the truth is my weight has fluctuated significantly since I got my eating under control. And I don’t always know why.

Recently I had to get rid of my size XL yoga pants. They were too big to stay up. And I am starting to shrink out of my size L yoga pants. And I am super hungry so I am eating really greasy, fatty proteins. Lots of bacon. Lots of pork rinds. Lots of full fat Greek yogurt. Even that has not slowed down the weight loss.

Plus, I have been starving after my workout, so I have pushed it back to right before lunch, so I can eat immediately afterwards.

I am really loving the changes in my body. I am watching my shape transform in ways that make me happy. And it’s not about thinness, or getting smaller. In fact the point is to get a bigger butt. (I have never had a butt. Just hips.)

But I have a complicated relationship with my body. I need to keep an eye on my thinking. I don’t want to end up in “diet head.” I don’t want to get obsessed with working out. I don’t want to love losing weight so much that I lose my mind. I have lost my mind over weight loss before. Yes, I was thin. But also crazy. 

I spoke about this with a trusted friend who does what I do with food. She hates that I am hungry. So do I. One of the best things about my food boundaries is that I don’t have to be hungry. But this is a choice. I could go back to jogging instead of my step machine. I could take a break from working out all together. (I don’t have any plans to do that right now.) I could do a million different things to get different results. But for now I am just going to keep on the same path. Enjoy my butt and my bacon and maybe buy myself some new pants.

Isn’t it ironic?

I have been thinking about writing about the weight loss drug, Ozempic, for a while. There are so many things about it that I have thoughts, but maybe more importantly, feelings about.



So first, I want to say that I don’t want it. Even if I could get it, I would not take it. I have a solution to my eating problem. And I have learned to separate my weight from my eating problem. It would not do me much good to be thin and obsessed with food. The obsession is the problem. My guess is a pill can’t fix that. And also, I have no proof that it would work better for me than my eating boundaries. And I am not interested in messing with a 17 year proven solution.



Second, weight loss drugs have been around a long time. And yet, individually, none of them are still around. I am personally old enough to remember Fen-Phen. And I am old enough to remember the commercials in the subsequent years claiming that if you had heart problems from it, you might be entitled to financial compensation. Plenty of women who have the same eating boundaries that I have remember being prescribed amphetamines by doctors when they were younger. Plus downers so they could sleep at night.

Third, you need to take it for life. Which actually  makes sense to me. I mean, I have to do what I do for life. But a lot of things can go wrong with something like that. The drug could be taken off the market. It has already become prohibitively expensive for most people. 

But I guess the thing for me that makes it all the more frustrating is that while it really may help people who have diseases like diabetes, it is mostly being used by celebrities and various rich people to stay skinny and cultivate “a look.” A friend of mine was even on it for a while and lost a lot of weight. But then he was no longer big enough to “qualify” for it, and his prescription was taken away. But like I said, you have to take it for life for it to work.

I suppose ultimately it’s all tied up for me in the fact that we have scientists making junk food addictive on purpose, we have a “fitness” industry telling us that if we would only work hard enough (and buy the right products) we could, and should, look like a magazine cover model, we have a culture that hates and vilifies fatness as a personal and moral failing, and when we do come up with a possible medical solution, wealthy people commandeer all of it to fit into a smaller size for their social media accounts.

I’m just going to be over here reading ingredients and weighing out my food. Ironic, but honestly, seems so much simpler than taking a pill every day.

Working to think the thoughts I want

A few weeks ago I posted about getting specific physical results from a new workout and how that can put me right back into eating disorder and body dysmorphia brain, a side effect of my sugar addiction. How it made me want to ramp up my workout to get more results faster. And how I work to quiet that voice.

Well I don’t know about you, but sometimes I like to “browser window” shop, as in look at clothes on line and then just close the tab and not buy them. But if you shop on line (and you’re any good at it) you probably know that the best way to shop is by measurements and not clothing size. Sizes differ greatly across companies, not to mention countries.

So I took my measurements. And my clothing-related measurements (bust, waist & hips) are the same as they were the last time I measured, before this new workout routine. So my size is the same. And I realized that I was so disappointed.

I can see a marked difference in the shape of my body. I can feel the difference in the way my legs fit together when I cross them. I can see a difference in the shape of my butt. I can see a difference in how much more stamina I have. 

But I had been thinking and hoping and *expecting* to be a smaller size. And I cared. Even though I don’t want to care. Even though I have spent years actively trying to disconnect the size of my body from my worth, and trying to keep my focus on my food addiction and not my weight. There is still a part of me that lights up at the idea of smaller, thinner, skinnier, a lower numbered size.

When I think about all of the ways being fat made me a joke, a punchline, a mark, a safe target growing up (and even now – fat Thor anyone?) I can see that I have 45 years of conditioning to get over to not be ashamed. That some of these thoughts are over 40 years old, and they were the way my very young brain processed the world and learned to protect itself. 

I am still going to continue to dismantle these thoughts. I am still going to love my body for all of the ways that it serves me, and pick apart the judgment I have for it not always fitting into the beauty standard. But I want to acknowledge that even knowing that I don’t respect the way we deal with beauty in Western culture, I am still subject to it. And I have to work *every day* at living the life I want and thinking the thoughts I want.

Does the baby need a pacifier? (Yes. The answer is yes.)

When I got back from the grocery store yesterday I could not help thinking about how many drinks my husband and I consume daily and weekly. And most of them, for both of us, are zero calories (or very low calorie for him) and many are caffeine free as well. There is no nutritional value. They are essentially just pacifiers. 

This is not a judgment. I am not judging myself, my husband, or anyone else for this. Because zero calorie drinks always have, and continue to, help me keep my eating boundaries. They help me get through the day without eating between meals. Or feeling like I want to eat between meals.

I have the desire to eat all the time. Not for nourishment. Not because I actually want to eat. Not because I’m hungry. I just love to eat. I love the way it makes me feel. I love the experience. And drinking calorie-free drinks tricks my brain into feeling like I’m eating when I am not. 

Because actually eating all the time made me miserable. It made me hate my body, made me hate my life, and made me hate myself. But diet drinks are a safe way to feel satisfied without breaking my boundaries. 

So much of keeping my addiction under control is following rules. By which I mean, it’s about honesty and integrity. It’s about making and keeping promises around food. It’s about being fully aware of what is going into my mouth, and knowing, unequivocally, that it’s aligned with my commitments. And zero calorie drinks are within my boundaries and can be partaken of guilt free.

The kinds of things I drink have changed a bit over the years. I used to drink coffee and espresso all day every day. And now I mostly don’t drink caffeine after noon. I make some notable exceptions, like if I go to a bar or restaurant to be with family and friends, I drink diet cola and I don’t worry about caffeine. But not drinking caffeine is a goal, not a rule or a promise. Knowing what is a hard and fast rule is what keeps me peaceful. It keeps me proud of myself and happy in my body and my life. And if I need a pacifier, so be it.

More fulfilling than weight loss

I have lost weight recently. I don’t weigh myself and I have not for years, but I do, in fact, wear clothes. And it is clear to me that things are significantly looser. Dresses that used to be formfitting now hang on me. And I have not (knowingly) done anything to facilitate that.

I have a theory about why. I have recently started taking an OTC medication for acid reflux. (Remember when I said a few weeks ago that I have been sick for months? Well my mother-in-law, who worked for a GI doctor for over 20 years, told me my persistent wet cough was acid reflux. And I’ll be damned if she wasn’t right!) And this weight loss coincides pretty closely with my starting the medicine. 

But the truth is, I don’t know what affects my weight. And the other truth is, I never have. 

Obviously when I gave up simple sugar and carbohydrates, that had a huge impact on my weight. I ate significantly less because I was not craving my drug foods, and therefore eating much less.  I was also eating much less of processed, high calorie/low nutrient foods. And I was managing my portions by weighing my food. But even since getting my eating under control, my weight has still fluctuated wildly. (Not hundreds of pounds, but as much as 30 or more.) And my eating has not changed that much. And even when I took specific actions and changed my foods, and my quantities of food, I could not get my body to “behave.” Gaining weight eating less, losing weight eating more. I could never get my weight to work like a math equation. I have never been able to predict my weight, or manage it, by food choices. And I have stopped trying. 

I don’t want to care about my weight. I don’t want to even think about my weight. But I live in a world and a society that cares very much about weight. So that is a struggle. And the first 28 years of my life revolved entirely around my weight. My shame over my weight. The humiliation of other people openly judging my weight. Those are hard things to forget. And those are things that shaped the way I thought and felt and interacted during my formative years.

Sometimes it has felt like those formative ways of being are “just the way I am.” Set in stone and unchangeable. But I have noticed that giving up my drug foods and changing my lifestyle has been an opportunity to change thought and behavior patterns that I thought were just “me.” It turns out, I can change me. Way more easily than I can change my weight. And way more fulfilling as well.

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