onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “boundaries”

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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28 Jan 2024

Feels like a shame but probably isn’t

I am almost a full month into my “Peaceful Purposeful Joyful Creation” journey and I am still learning and shaky. But also still plugging along. 

One of the things that I had to learn early in getting my eating under control was time assessment and management. Because shopping and chopping and cooking and packing and eating took time. And I had to actually know how much time I needed. I had to learn to be practical about practical things.

And I got pretty good at that. Certainly good enough that I figured out my priorities and how to implement them in my life.

There is a saying that I think about a lot. “You can talk about priorities all you like, but your schedule doesn’t lie.”

And my schedule clearly says self-care is a priority. I take care of myself with my eating boundaries, my workout and sleep and meditation schedules, my skin and hair care. 

But all of this scheduling and routine maintenance has made a nice tidy place for my head to go chaotic. Rush through step 1 to get to step 2 while simultaneously preparing for steps 3-8 in my mind. My brain is full. No room for anything but the rest of my planned out time.

On the outside I look calm and confident. I know this because people say it all the time. “You have such a peaceful presence. You always seem so together.” Inside I am panting and panicking and focusing on perfection.

This past few weeks of trusting that my life will work out even if I don’t run around like a crazy lady is…frankly hard. There is a level of superstitious thinking to the way I live that stems from my childhood thinking. That the “magic” is in not stopping, not looking, not hesitating. Not giving life, or bad luck, or karma, or the devil or WHATEVER, a chance to get me.

But the thing is that I already know that the real magic is in slowing down. It’s in the stillness. It’s in the trusting. It’s in the space between thoughts.

Because ultimately that is what my brain chaos is. It’s me not having to trust. It’s me not having to look too closely at my dreams and my wishes and what I really want for my life. It’s me not having to expect that things will work out for the best for me in the end. So I can use that time and space to go into survival mode and “prepare for any eventuality,” instead of being excited, interested, involved, curious.

I guess what I am coming to recognize is that all of that mental busywork is a way for me to burn off my creative energy without having to create anything. 

And that sucks. I hate that! I’m annoyed at myself. I’m frustrated that I have taken so long to get here. I am impatient to grow faster and be better now!

But I am reminded, yet again, that these big changes come a little at a time. I do not currently have the capacity to bridge the gap between what I am and what I want to be. And the only way to get there is to continue. At life’s pace. Not mine.

Which feels like a real shame but probably isn’t.

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07 Jan 2024

Pretty sure my dreams are in the stillness

Over the past few years I have noticed that my New Year’s Day has set the tone for my coming year, though not intentionally. Which made me decide to be intentional about it this year. 

I chose to have an intentional day of joyful peaceful productive making, including crochet projects, comedy bits and improv jokes and snippets of singing on social media, and a delicious dinner to enjoy with my husband. 

And I noticed something in my intentionality to be peaceful; even when I am not upset, when I have plenty of time, when all is well, I am amped up to go go go. I am never really peaceful about being and doing enough. 

I want to crochet that row quickly and efficiently to get to the next step. I want to get the wording perfect but still get that quip out quickly in case someone else makes a similar joke! I want to salt and pepper the steaks quickly and efficiently to get them in the sous vide. So I can quickly and efficiently get to cooking the vegetables!

And I don’t just mean physically, though physically too. I am rushing in my mind. RUSHING ALL THE TIME!!!!

And I want to change that for myself. Because I know intuitively that the gifts of abundance, the life beyond even this life beyond my wildest dreams, are in the stillness. I know it. And I fear it. But perhaps I could notice because I am actually ready to be still anyway. Even if fear of success has always been on my list, just as much as fear of failure.

It occurs to me that that is why I spend so much time rushing. So I don’t have any space between thoughts of perfection in the now. I be careful what I think I can have. I be careful what I think I am worth. I be careful what I wish for. Or I don’t wish at all.

Because getting what I wish for means work. It means being great. It means trying and failing to be great and then being embarrassed about it. It means stretching and struggling. It means pain. 

If I ate over it instead, there would be no pain. 

But I don’t eat over things now. I don’t put sugar in my body to drug myself. And I have the benefit of 18 years of work, and trying and failing to be great and being embarrassed about it, and stretching and struggling and pain. And I know first hand that there is magic in the trying.

(Oh HEY! On January 2, I celebrated 18 years of having my eating under control! Yay!)

Now, when I notice my brain rushing, and telling me to go go go, I purposely slow down. I make every thought and movement deliberate and smooth. I trust that it will work out just fine. And so far it has. And has also brought me more peace daily.

My time on this planet has been a long slow lesson in easing into this life. 46 years in, I may be getting the hang of it.

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05 Nov 2023

Kate, what game are you playing?

I have a complicated relationship with “all or nothing” thinking. For one thing, I have an all or nothing relationship with simple sugars and carbohydrates, and that is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. 

But that relationship, for all of its black and white, (no you can’t eat that, yes you can eat this and this is how much) also taught me boundaries, doing the bare minimum, and “working the system.” Which are things other people like to look at as lazy or cheat-y.

I remember someone years ago asking me why I was going all the way across town to get apples. And I explained that I could have 1 apple for breakfast, and whatever market had apples that weighed more than a pound. This man who barely knew me told me that was “cheating.” Because I was obviously supposed to be on a diet if I had that many rules around food.

He thought I was cheating because he didn’t know the game I was playing. I was playing “make the food you eat so delicious and satisfying that you can withstand the appeal of chocolate cake.” That’s not the kind of game people understand. I don’t need them to. I am satisfied in my food life.

This week I decided to join NaNiWriMo (short for National Novel Writing Month.) It is a thing lots of writers and authors do. The idea is to write 50,000 words of a novel in the 30 days of November, with a daily goal of 1,667 words. 

Well I woke up Wednesday and decided I was going to try to write a romance novel that has been rattling around in my head for a year-ish. I signed up and wrote over my 1667 word goal. But the next day I had a bunch of things to do. And I only got 900 words in before it was bedtime. And Friday was cleaning for company and then company. Saturday was weekly errands and husband time. So two days in a row that I did not write my novel. And here it is Sunday and I am writing this blog. Because I always write a blog on Sunday. Because it is truly a priority in my life.

But will I write my novel?

And what if I don’t?

And what if I just do it when I have time?

Will I fail at life?

My first reaction is to quit. Not because I want to, but because I have already shown that I am not taking this seriously. I’m not willing to do the work. I don’t have what it takes. That I am not good enough for my inner Good Girl.

My Good Girl and her needs – to do it right, to be perfect, to show you *how good* she is, how smart, how disciplined, how well she pays attention and follow directions – are making this NaNoWriMo experience a whole lesson. As far as she is concerned, we have already failed! FAILED!!!

But I did not choose to try it for my Good Girl. I did it because I don’t know what comes next in my life and I just want to put a whole bunch of the best of myself and what I love into Life, and see what Life offers back.

So I guess I have to ask myself “what game do I want to be playing with NaNoWriMo and this novel?”

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29 Oct 2023

Gross sack of meat grace

When I was fat, I used to relate to my body as if it were not really me. Like it was the loaner car the dealer gave me while my real one was in the shop. In my mind I was my mind. I was my thoughts and feelings and words. I loved being my words! But I hated my body and I didn’t like to think about it. I tried to both disassociate, and dissociate myself from it.

But when I got my eating under control, I could not do that anymore. I could not get numb enough without my drug foods to not experience my body. It was right there. And it was yelling at me that it was me and I was it. So I had to change the way I dealt with it, thought about it, talked about it, talked *to* it, treated it.

When I was in my early thirties, I danced with a modern company in Brooklyn. And one day one of my fellow dancers, also 30ish at the time sighed and lamented “remember when you were 16 and your body was perfect and the world was yours?” And I laughed because no. At 16 I was worried about who was climbing the stairs behind me and how big they thought my ass was. (And not in a good way, like now.)

But one advantage I think I got from having my story be my story, is that I know how to deal with a changing body with grace. And I have the lived experience of getting better, not worse, with age. I am not talking about my weight. Since I put boundaries around my eating, I have been chubby and I have been skinny, but I have still consistently been getting fitter, stronger, and more physically attractive (at least to myself!)

I feel (I probably really am) stronger at 46 than even at 30, dancing on stage and throwing around and catching the smaller girls. I think I get better with age because I am constantly learning to be more myself. To settle further down into my most authentic self, and settle ever more comfortably into this fascinating machine/gross sack of meat.

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22 Oct 2023

Daily amends to this spectacular body

There is a concept I learned years ago that has changed the way I see the world and people. That when we, as individuals, do wrong by someone, we have one of two options: 1) we can acknowledge it and make amends, or 2) we can refuse to see our part in it, but then we *must* make the other person the bad guy in order to justify our wrongdoing.

I did this to my body for most of my young life. And what it meant was that I started to believe that my body was wrong, broken, evil. I hated it for being fat. I hated it for being ugly. I hated it for letting everyone see my “problems” instead of them being invisible like other addictions. My addiction was written all over my body and it was (and for the most part still is) totally acceptable to judge me for it and let me know that the mere existence of my body was unpalatable.

I often think that if I had not gotten down to a socially acceptable size through crazy and unsustainable eating and exercising practices, and then unsuccessfully tried my hand (and toothbrush) at bulimia, I would have probably just been fat, and angry at life, the universe, and everything about it for the rest of my days.

Bulimia really lit a fire under my ass. I couldn’t look at myself and think I didn’t have a problem anymore. But I didn’t care about anything but not being fat.

Even getting my eating under control started as a punishment. Since throwing up was clearly “after school special level” messed up, I decided I was going to starve my body into thinness.

That was what I planned/expected when I put boundaries around my eating.

Except I don’t starve on my food plan. I eat so much food. Vast amounts of whole foods. And I learned early how to work the system. One apple could be, and is whenever possible, a 1+ pound apple. (This morning’s apple was 14 ounces.) I had an 11 pound honeydew this week that yielded over a pound and a half of melon every morning for breakfast for 4 days. On top of 4 ounces of bacon and eggs and whole milk in my coffee.

I treat my body with loving kindness now. From the way I eat to the way I work out to the amount of sleep I get. I don’t judge my body or my beauty or my health by the size of my pants. It’s a living amends to myself, and this amazing body that has gotten stronger, healthier, and more comfortable as I have aged. And ever more beautiful, not because of thinness, but because of genuine care. Perhaps this is what they mean by growing old gracefully?

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