onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “boundaries”

08 Sep 2024

To get some reciprocity

One of the things that I have learned (am learning?) from my husband in our 11+ years together is how to let a negative emotion go. How to move on from the feeling and choose a different feeling. That even if the situation is unchanged, I can just let the emotion go. 

Sometimes that takes more work than others. Sometimes a situation is so loaded with old feelings that it takes longer and it takes more. But because of *his* ability to move on, I have cultivated an ability to move on. 

Earlier this week, a friend reached out to me. Actually, *that* friend that I wrote about a few weeks ago. The one who ghosted me and I was super sad.

And she apologized for how she handled our situation. She acknowledged her part in it. She let me acknowledge my part in hurting her and apologize. We are moving forward together to repair our friendship. We have a date later this month! I’m happy. I’m relieved.

Having my eating under control is the PhD of relationships, and this is the work. Difficult conversations. Vulnerability. Trying again. Working things out.

But in my life I have lost many relationships because of situations and boundaries. And many times people have tried to come back into my life without doing the relationship work. Without acknowledging their part in our breakup. Without making a commitment to move forward differently. Often without even the words of apology. And I’m not available for more of the same bad relationship.

But coming to me authentically, even with grievances and frustrations, is what I need in my relationships. And this is what I am offering in return. So it was a special blessing to not only have her reach out but to do it with integrity.

But back to my husband teaching me to let go of my difficult feelings. There was a time in my life when I would have held a grudge over what happened with my friend. It would not have mattered that she came to me in a way that honored our friendship. I would not have been open. I would have immediately shut down from being hurt, and I would not be able to let it go. 

When I am eating compulsively, my emotions are uncontrollable and end up making decisions. When my eating is under control I can use my emotions as the tools that they are. 

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11 Aug 2024

No pictures please

It has been almost two years since I started walking stairs to work out because I couldn’t run because I couldn’t breathe. It’s about a year and 8 or 9 months since I started treat my new breathing problems (adult onset asthma) and learned that I have always had exercise induced asthma. And about a year and a half since I have been able to breathe while working out. All of this while in perimenopause. 

The changes in my body have been extreme. I have more than doubled the size of my butt with muscle, while simultaneously losing weight in my lower body and dropping multiple pants sizes, but also having barely any change in my upper body.

It has changed the way I walk. The way I stand. The ways I have to stretch. The kinds of clothes I want to wear. 

It has changed enough to change everything.

But my body has always been so changeable. Resilient and strong and adaptable.

I was 300 pounds at 19 years old. 130 pounds at 34. And since then I have stopped weighing myself. But in my life I have gained and lost hundreds of pounds. Sometimes when I was dieting before I got my eating under control. But after too. The changes when I had my eating boundaries were not as drastic, but what is drastic compared to 150 pounds?

The truth is for most people, especially women, 20 pounds is a lot. Even with my eating boundaries in place, firm and honored, I still have gained and lost more than 30 pounds at a time. 

And I have never felt so good, so free, as when I stopped caring about my weight. Let it fluctuate. Let it go where it wants. I don’t eat sugar because it’s poison to me. I don’t eat compulsively because I do not have a “done” button. But I love to eat. I live to eat and once I made friends with that, I let it be what it is. And what it is is lots of bacon and ice cream. 

I have a thought every once in a while that I should be taking pictures of my butt to mark my progress. Because there is so much change. And I’m proud of it. I like the way it looks. I like that I did it. I like that I knew what I wanted, and I put in the work and I get what I get. Which is as close to what I want as genetics will allow.

But then I remember that the kind of scrutiny that a picture a day welcomes turns on me quickly. It’s not too big a gap for me between the moments of “I love this milestone” and “HOW CAN I GET MORE AND QUICKER RESULTS????”

I am remembering to be present in my body. To let that hour in the morning be my time to care for it, enjoy it, push it, and admire it. And then go about my day not thinking about it.

I hope I can remember how much of my life was spent obsessing about my body, specifically how much I hated it, when I was eating compulsively. And that not having to think about my body is a luxury that comes from keeping my sugar addiction and compulsive eating under control and not letting my body dysmorphia get a good hold. Which means not taking pictures of my butt every day. Even if it is spectacular.

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21 Jul 2024

My most complicated relationship (cue the Whitney Houston)

I often think about the 12 step idea that being good at life means that I  pedal while Life steers. And so much of pedaling for me is just keeping my sugar addiction and compulsive eating under control. 

When I abstain from simple sugars and carbohydrates and weigh my food, I quiet the noise in my head. I have noise about food, about fear, about eating, about my body, about losing weight and gaining weight. And I can keep control over all of that noise when I am not feeding it drug foods and obsession. 

When the food is down , I can also listen. To myself. To the part of Life or God or The Universe that is inside me. To the people around me that Life sent my way to pass on a message or a clue or a blessing.

So much of a great life seems to be seeing the opportunities in front of me, choosing them, using them, doing something about them.

Over the past year or so, I have started to fix and reconcile the most complicated relationship I am in. The one with myself.

I have some choices that I need to make. Personal choices. And I am coming to terms with the fact that my life has been filled with people who didn’t and don’t understand or approve of me. No. Not ME. My choices. My wants. My DREAMS! 

And that *I*, in my lifetime of fear and self doubt, have been agreeing with everyone who told me I was wrong for being impractical, or silly, or picky, or any of the things that did not make me an easy companion.

So I have been doing what I want. Without a thought to other people. Little things at first. The clothes I want. How I want to spend time and energy. But I have been coming full up against a wall. A wall I built so that other people could approve of me. Easily. Without any work on their part.

But to tear it down is to expose my underbelly. To give an easy, soft target.

I took an action the other day. Reached out to someone for something. But before I did, I wanted to ask all of the people who have opinions about me what their opinion would be about this. 

But I didn’t. 

I meditated. And I remembered that I was not looking for clarity. I was looking for answers. Answers about me and what I wanted. And whether I like it or not, I’m the only one with those. 

I always thought that being a good person was about the ways you impacted others. But right now I can see that I have been impacting myself in harmful ways. As if that were OK. As long as it wasn’t someone “important.”

The last thing I want to say is that I believe that being my most authentic self can only make the world better. Even for all of the people I have been trying to accommodate. Even if it’s an inconvenience. Even if it changes the way they feel about me.

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14 Jul 2024

The good and bad news is you never get the same Kate

Becoming a different person is hard. Even though I have done it many times before.

A thing happened this week where we had a family issue that required a delicate conversation with a family member and it was complicated. Or…we thought it was going to be complicated. And it was not. 

But nobody involved knew that. And the lead up to the solution (which was so graceful and easy it was kind of hilarious) was highly dramatic. Apparently, though, all and only in our own minds.

But here’s the thing. We created drama. And it needed somewhere to go. Some sort of outlet. And it did. And I ended up in an argument with one person and we are still in that argument. 

My best friend reminds me of something all the time. She had a therapist who said that people sometimes get involved in “a game of kick me” (figuratively) and the game doesn’t end until SOMEONE gets figuratively “kicked.” You can kick them. They can kick you. Or either one of you can kick yourselves. But the game won’t end until one of those things happens. 

That is what this feels like. It feels like a whole bunch of people decided that someone needed to get kicked and I, personally, absorbed all of that drama so the rest of them didn’t have to. Calling us back to honesty and integrity over pity and fear. Recalling us to the fact that we did not know what would happen and that our emotional projections were unhelpful. 

And now that very high drama needs an outlet and apparently I and this other person are the people who get to get kicked. Or get to kick each other. Or ourselves. And I don’t even know how to dissipate it. Except maybe to kick or be kicked. And both of those sound like really shitty options to me.

I am constantly trying to grow. I am consistently working on being my most authentic self. With the firm and lasting belief that *that* is my very best self. I am always working to peel back the layers of inauthentic protection that I have put up around me. And that means not being the person I was yesterday. And that means the people around me getting a new person all the time. 

I guess that is the good news, but also the bad news.

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23 Jun 2024
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Am I being…sane about this????

My dad’s mom was the love of my life before my husband. She got sick when I was 33. And in the few months that she was in the hospital before she died, in my mourning, my body got small. 

I don’t mean I did anything to make it small. It was not like I was so sad I didn’t eat. I was already in my food program and had my eating under control. But that didn’t mean eating “up to” a certain amount, it meant eating an exact amount. Whether I wanted to or not. And I often did not. But I ate it. I choked every meal down for months. And still by the time she died, I was by far the very tiniest  had ever been.

The person who helped me deal with my eating boundaries was worried how small I was getting and how quickly, and made me eat another piece of fruit every day. And still I was over 5’6” and in a U.S. size small (4/6.) 

A few years later on my 35th birthday, 12 years ago this month in fact, I quit smoking and I gained weight. So much weight. Not only did my new extra fruit get taken away but my vegetable portions were cut. I was eating quantifiably less and less nutrient dense foods, and still gaining weight. 

That kicked off my body dysmorphia in a whole new and exciting way! I had crazy nightmares about getting on the scale. I started to dread weigh day 28 days before it happened each month! I started to think about all of the ways I could diet and lose this weight. And since all of the normal ways were already not working, they were some crazy thoughts. Bulimic thoughts. 

And then I realized that at that moment I had absolutely zero control over my weight. Like none. And that was the beginning of my understanding the difference between hating my sugar addiction, and my internalized fat phobia and fat hatred, and separating them for and from myself. 

And so from that time on I made a point to think of my weight as “none of my business.” I have not been on a body scale in over a decade. I even just say no at the doctor’s office. And since nobody has had to give me medication by weight, it has never been an issue. I look in the mirror, I think I’m gorgeous. No matter what size. And though my weight fluctuated, I never ever got back to that skinny girl.

But here we are 12 years later and I am approaching, or maybe even am, a U.S. 4/6 again right now. And not because my body is eating itself in mourning this time either. I am not entirely sure why but I do know that I have changed the size and shape of my butt by building muscle and that I can now breathe when I work out, which are two really important aspects of my daily routine that directly coincide with the timing of my weight loss that I did not have when I was in my 30s.

But this is what I want to point out, to you and to me. This is the absolute SANEST I have ever been around my body and weight loss. This sanity is the result of years of curating my media/social media to see a full gamut of people and bodies. This is a result of actively changing my thought patterns around my body and other people’s bodies. Literally noticing a thought, stopping it, and redirecting my brain. This is the result of taking direct actions, having explicit conversations, making deliberate choices to consider bodies the sacred vessels they are, rather than the targets of judgement and ridicule. 

I’m not immune to the ingrained thoughts. I do still get a little zing of happy at “small” “skinny” “finally.” 

But I also know I don’t have to do anything about it. Don’t have to romance thinness as an ideal. Don’t have to feel proud of something that is a side effect of a certain other goal (the butt was on purpose, the weight loss was not.) Don’t have to do more or eat less or try this or that.

I just have to love my body the way it is. And I do. 

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26 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!

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19 May 2024

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. 

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21 Apr 2024

Another make coming

I have been thinking a lot about the addiction part of my life lately. (Not that I am ever not thinking about it on some level.) About the part of me that always wants more. That wants to be filled up. Sated. And never quite is.

People who keep the same eating and food boundaries that I do have a handful of slogans. And one is There Is Another Meal Coming. Because that is what addiction feels like. Dearth. Void. Scarcity and Deprivation. 

And even though I used to cringe at the cheesy nature of having slogans, that one, and many others, got me through. Reminded me that there was ALWAYS another meal coming. I was guaranteed three meals a day. I am guaranteed! I get to eat things I love. And none of them are drug foods.

But since I have been actively trying to create a year of joyful, peaceful, purposeful creation, I have noticed that I still live my creative life like there is not, in fact, another meal (project, idea, time to make) coming. I am thinking like an addict about making. Frenzied, overwhelmed, excited but in a way that leads to disappointment. Half finished, lost steam, too many ideas, not enough time.

In all seriousness, I feel like it’s a miracle I make and design and create as much as I do for as much chaos as I court around it in my head. 

So my goal moving forward is to remember that there is another make coming. 

I already know that this lesson comes with some practical considerations, like time and logistics, but there is something to Fake It ‘Til You Make It, and for now it feels good to trust that stuff will get made. And maybe in the end, with a little more room in my head for something bigger.

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25 Feb 2024

Apparently, you don’t know what you’re missing

When I first got my eating under control, I lived in a bit of a fog for about a year and a half. I wore pajamas everywhere. I left my house in the middle of the night to drink diet soda and read manga in those pajamas in the bar down the street so I didn’t eat compulsively. I don’t remember a lot of that time. 

But then I got clear headed. And I realized that for the first time since I was 5 years old, I was very conventionally attractive. That was both the good news and the bad news.

When I say I was conventionally attractive, I mean I was hot. I mean that the kinds of things that happened to beautiful women in movies happened to me. 

Once, my mom was visiting me in New York City. We were getting into a cab, and as it was pulling away, a guy jumped in front of it so he could get my number. I remember my mom looking at me kind of funny and asking me if that kind of thing happened to me a lot. And me saying…well, kind of.

But when I think about that me, that 30 something girl who felt 16 again only actually excited to be here, I can see I really was like a 16 year old girl. I had to learn how to navigate the world differently. I had to get a crash course in having social currency.

I was completely unprepared for the differences in the way I was treated. Good, bad and heartbreaking. Completely insecure about my new place in the world. When you are fat, even though it’s a terrible one, the world has a place picked out for you. Completely unsure of who I wanted to be now that it felt like I could be anyone. And I tried on a bunch of new clothes and personalities. 

But the thing is, that 15+ years later, at 46, what I am is authentically me. Or the most authentically me I have ever been. I feel so much more confident, beautiful, sexy, sure, secure, and comfortable. That was 15+ years of making amends, changing behaviors and setting boundaries, loving myself and learning to love others as they were. And yet, nobody has rushed into traffic to get my phone number in many years. Which seems a shame really. I mean, I’m married, so I would refuse anyway, but I’m way more appealing now than I was teetering on my hot girl fawn legs.

I’m not saying I’m not a beautiful woman. I am. I know it. I enjoy it. But beauty without youth is not as in demand. And frankly, that’s a relief. But also, a pity. You clearly don’t know what you’re missing.

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04 Feb 2024

The luxuries of 18 years

One thing about having my eating under control for 18 years is that I’m well into the life stuff. The relationship stuff. The dealing with stuff stuff. 

In the beginning all I could do was focus on keeping my eating under control. I had been addicted to sugar for almost all of my 28 years and I spent all my beginner energy making foods that fit my boundaries, and distracting myself from the foods I used to binge on. With books and manga, and that one anime (Fushigi Yuugi) that I watched on a loop for like a year and a half.

But this shit works. Putting down the sugars and things that turned into sugar in my body, and then taking responsibility for my actions. And living my most authentic life.

It has been a long, slow and unsteady process. It was worth every uncomfortable and insecure second.

The truth is now I have a healthy fear of the food. As one might have a healthy fear of the Ocean. But avoiding it and preparing to resist it does not take up my time at the moment. A true blessing and miracle.

But I am in some life lesson place and I feel a little crazy. A little stupid. A little frazzled. And I have been literally walking in circles.

And then this morning I was telling this to my best friend and she said “you’re the one who always talks about my ‘spiral staircase.’ You’re on yours. Plop your ass down on the steps and have a look around.”

(I mentor food addicts and one thing I talk about is how we are always coming to the same problems on a new level. Like a spiral staircase.)

Ah! I keep getting my own advice turned back on me. The joy and curse of being a mentor and knowing that means being available for mentoring…sigh

So I am reminded that it’s life on Life’s terms, not on Kate’s terms. That time will pass whether I wear a hole in my Luxury Vinyl flooring or sit my ass down.

I keep my eating boundaries a day at a time, and I get to contemplate luxury problems between luxury meals. Truly a life beyond my wildest dreams. 

But let’s be honest. Still uncomfortable, difficult, and scary. Makes me want to get up and walk around in circles.

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