onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “compulsive eating”

28 Jul 2013

Want to get a bikini body this summer?

Put a bikini on your body…

I have mentioned before, just last week even, that other people’s eating disorders can bring my own eating disorders to the forefront of my thinking. That’s true of my body image disorders as well. And I’m in a funny place right now. I would say that it’s a pretty good place. But weird.

See, for the most part, my body is not an issue lately. But also, grocery store checkout tabloids and people with body issues on social media are putting images that make me angry (frustrated? freaked out?) all up in my face.

I did not lose 150 lbs for my health. Period. (Just like I did not quit smoking for my health.) I have never ever ever done anything for my health. It is not what motivates me. And I’m not sorry for it. Or ashamed of it.

Yes, I know that the world wants health to be the great motivator. Good Lord, they say it often enough. Just try putting some artificial sweetener in your coffee in a public place. You’d think you were snorting cocaine on the Starbucks counter top. That’s so bad for you!

And it was certainly vanity that got me to get control of my eating. (And quit smoking.) But it was not really physical vanity. It was less what my body looked like, and more what my body said about me.

Here’s the way I think I can explain it. Being fat was, as far as I was concerned, the physical manifestation of how messed up, out of control, morally bankrupt, self-hating, unlovable, and pathetic I was. It was the big billboard that announced “This girl is totally f***ed up!” So yes, I did not want to be fat anymore.

But my experience is that there is a crazy paradox that goes along with losing weight. And even more specifically, getting the body I wanted. And now love.

I had to stop caring about whether or not I would get the body I wanted. And I had to love the body I had. I had to let go of what I thought would be a good body, the right body, a beautiful body.

Because I do not have the body that I thought I would have to have before I could love my body. I just plain don’t. But I sure do love my body. LOVE it!

Those fashion magazine articles that tell us to tape pictures of women with the bodies we want on our refrigerators for motivation, with the promise that if we work hard enough, and be good enough, we too will get that body, well…they’re lying. Those women are models. And I’m going to be blunt here, they are models because they have a rare body shape and type. That a very greedy beauty industry is trying to sell us at all costs. And those pictures are probably photoshopped. The truth is that no matter how disciplined, committed to our diets and regimented in our workouts we are, we will probably never get a body that looks like those women’s bodies.

I know for a fact that I never will. Never ever. I have my own body. It’s the one I got from my parents. And God, or Nature, or Life, or whatever you want to call it. And there is nothing wrong with that. Did you get that? Let me reiterate. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT! I even abused the hell out of my body. And it is fantastically beautiful!

If I had gotten control of my eating to get a beautiful body, I would have given up a long time ago. I would have decided that none of it was worth it. If I couldn’t have a magazine-worthy body, I might as well have had chocolate cake.

But I don’t need to have a model’s body. Thank God! I don’t need to be seen as skinny. Hell, lately, I don’t even need to worry about how fast (or if) I’m going to lose the rest of the weight I gained when I quit smoking. (I do still have body image disorders, so frankly, that might come up again. But for now it’s a non-issue.)

I certainly do not think of this blog as being a weight loss or eating disorder instruction manual. I do my best to keep it about my own experience. But today I’m branching out a bit. So if you read me looking for clues about how to lose weight, here’s my advice. And it’s good!

Don’t wait to lose weight to love yourself. Love yourself now. Don’t wait to get a beautiful body before you start thinking your body is beautiful. Think it’s beautiful now.

Because there is magic in that! It’s a Jedi mind trick. It works. It will probably help you lose weight. And even if it doesn’t…You will love your body! How could that be a bad thing?!?!

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21 Jul 2013

Thank God for the people from other worlds!

My boyfriend is not a person who loves to eat. I don’t mean to imply that he doesn’t enjoy the food he is eating when he is eating it. But he does not love eating. He does not look forward to eating. He sometimes forgets to eat. It sometimes doesn’t occur to him to eat until he is ravenous.

This is not a world I live in. It’s not even the same galaxy. It may even be an alternate universe in another dimension…

I am very sensitive to other people’s eating disorders. It is hard for me to be around both food, and people who have an unhealthy relationship with food at the same time. It’s like a sixth sense. I can feel it. It makes me nervous. Edgy.

And not just eating or over eating. Not eating, too. Restraining. Managing. Depriving.

If I am at a party or a dinner with a (usually) woman who can’t stop eating, or can’t stop looking, or can’t stop going back for just a little bit more, or can’t stop telling other people to stop her, or can’t stop apologizing with a guilty look every time she takes a bite, I usually have to walk away. I don’t know what it is, but my own eating disorders start jumping up and down and waving their arms in big, sweeping motions.

Here I am! Over here! Remember me?

Yes, I remember, thank you. It is my life’s goal to eternally remember you. To never forget. And never let you out again.

But for several years now, first with roommates, and now with my boyfriend, I have lived with a number of men who just don’t give a shit about food.

Some have been generally healthier eaters than others. But they all eat junk food. They all eat sugar and carbs. But in moderation. In fact, they will let things sit in cabinets forever. Maybe even let them sit until they go bad. One of my roommates once had a box of ice cream treats in the freezer for about a month. One day he said “Oh! I forgot about those.”

WTF do you mean you forgot about those!?!? If they had been mine, they would have haunted me until every last one was gone. And the carton had been licked.

The first time I stayed with my boyfriend, I woke up after he had left for work, and on the counter was an open package with one of two snack cakes. In other words, he opened it, ate one, and left the other one. Just left it. Didn’t even take it with him. He eventually threw it away. Seriously.

And then yesterday evening, for the first time since I moved in, he ordered a pizza. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast 9 or 10 hours earlier. He ate two slices and put it away. Maybe ate another one a few hours later.

When he asked what my blog was going to be about this week, and I said, “Maybe you ordering a pizza,” he said “Oh no! I didn’t think that would be tempting.”

I told him that, thankfully, at this point, nothing in particular is tempting. (Frankly, uncomfortable situations are more “dangerous” to me than any particular food. I basically just occasionally have a difficult feeling and know that food would numb it. I don’t crave sugar or carbs anymore.)

He said, “Don’t worry. It wasn’t that good anyway.” Which was funny to me because it never mattered so much if something were “good” as if it were sugary, starchy, or carby. You know, if it would get me high.

The deal is that I know what is mine and what is not. And I know what is not mine because I have trained myself to know this. I did a lot of work to get to this point. To not pine for foods. To not wish. Or feel deprived. To not resent the fact that I am not a normal eater, but a woman with a sugar addiction and a whole slew of eating disorders. To look at the idea of eating sugar or carbs as stealing somebody else’s food. Not just my boyfriend’s or my roommates’, but anybody else’s food. Even if it’s still on the shelf in the store, it’s not mine!

I did not look at that opened snack cake and want it. I did not have to throw it away to get it away from myself. That pizza is still in the refrigerator. And it will probably be in there until I throw it away in a few days. Because it will almost certainly get old before my boyfriend eats it. But no, it does not talk to me. It is not mine, and it never will be.

But I am still grateful. Grateful that for years now, I have lived in safe places, with safe people. People who don’t have eating disorders or food obsessions. People who can leave a box or a bag or a container long enough that it needs to get thrown away. I’m not saying I understand it. I’m just saying it’s good to be around it.

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13 Jul 2013
2 Comments

I never thought I was boring…but I may have been wrong

I am definitely at a loss for what to write this week. And I would be lying if I said that didn’t scare me. I am all too afraid of failure. And that I had a good run. But now the well is dry.

I have to remember that I have been here before. More than once in the past year and a half. And that there has always been more to write about. Eventually…

And it’s probably that I don’t have much to write about because I’m bored.

My boyfriend’s job is requiring more and more of his time. Which means I get less and less of it.

And I don’t have any friends here.

And there are no sidewalks here. And I don’t drive. I came from New York City. Who needed to drive?

And I don’t have a job here.

And there is only so much cooking and cleaning a girl can do. I mean, there are only 2 of us.

So maybe the big news is that I am more bored for more time than I can remember being, and I’m not eating compulsively. And when I consider that objectively, that’s a pretty big deal.

If you are a person who relates well to your body, knows when you are hungry and eats, knows when you are satisfied and stops, this may not seem like anything extraordinary to you.

But I am a compulsive eater. Until I got my eating under control, boredom seemed like one of the better reasons to eat. They were all good reasons – celebration, mourning, worry, stress, excitement, anxiety, good news, bad news, wanting some particular food item, wanting to get some particular food item before somebody else got it instead – but boredom was like a perfect package. I need something to do, and I love to eat. Hey! Eating is doing something!

So it is a miracle that I am not eating compulsively.

It’s not hard. I don’t mean that. I’m not tempted. Thank God. Temptation was lifted a long time ago. Occasionally, it pops up for a second or two. But I know how to stamp out a spark before it catches fire. I know not to romanticize food. Not to entertain, foster, and certainly never nurture thoughts about food. I change my mind. I cultivate my thinking. I remind myself that the truth is that eating outside of my boundaries is poison. Death and insanity. So no, not eating compulsively is not difficult.

But it is still a miracle that I am still me, and I don’t compulsively eat out of boredom. Or for any reason at all. I don’t eat compulsively. Period. That’s the miracle. That there is never a good reason to eat outside of my boundaries. Who knew?!?

We will probably be leaving here soon. Going where, we’re not sure. What comes next for my boyfriend is up to his company. And what town I live in next is up to his company too.

But as for what is next for me, well, I don’t know yet. And in the meantime, a little boredom won’t kill me. And keeping my food under control will mean I’m ready for the next thing when I figure out what that is. And trusting that life is always right will keep me peaceful, knowing that there is a next thing, and that I don’t need to force it. It will show up at the exactly right time.

Just like everything else has since I got my eating under control.

Posted in Inspiration, Life and tagged , , , , ,
15 Jun 2013
4 Comments

Sometimes less is more. And sometimes it’s just less…

When I stopped eating sugar, grains, and starch, I did a lot of things to get by. I chewed packs and packs of gum. I drank coffee and diet soda constantly. I put artificial sweetener in everything. I didn’t just put it in my coffee. I put it in my salad dressing. And on my fruit.

It helped. All of those things took the edge off. I don’t think I would have gotten through the beginning without the caffeine and the sweetener.

But after a while, the need for those things lessened. I haven’t chewed gum in about 5 years. For the past few years, a diet soda is a rare treat. I now use about a tenth of the amount of sweetener that I used to. And a couple of years ago I stopped drinking caffeine after noon. I might still have a decaf between noon and 1. But after that I stick to herbal tea.

And of course, a year ago I quit smoking.

I like living this way. I like not being a slave to things.

Please don’t misunderstand. I love artificial sweetener. I love coffee. I don’t plan on giving them up.

It has happened before that some person who is over 100 lbs overweight will tell me that artificial sweetener is bad for me. That it’s healthier to eat real sugar. And I nod and smile. Sometimes I tell them that I can’t eat sugar. That I’m allergic. That it makes me sick. Which is true. Just probably not in a way they understand “allergic” or “sick”. But it’s none of their business. And I certainly don’t mock them. Or shame them. But I do sometimes wonder if they see the irony. I mean, I’m in a healthy body with beautiful skin and clear eyes. I radiate “healthy glow”.

But then this week, I got mad at myself. For having another coffee shake. (Black coffee, ice and sweetener in the blender.) 3 instead of 2. All before noon. After I drank the 64 oz of water I drink every day.

I don’t know why I got so judgy. But I didn’t like it. That is not the kind of person I want to be to myself.

It’s true that I don’t want a love of indulgence to be the center of my life. But it’s not! And I don’t love “restricting” myself. It’s not about restriction. I mostly love the way it feels to live in a body with less junk in it. And I love “not needing” one more coffee, more than I love “not having” one more coffee.

But this is what occurs to me. This is some incarnation of my eating disorder brain. And it’s one I never thought I had. Anorexia. I never starved myself. I could never go long without eating. But just like the bulimic girl, and the fat girl, and the good girl who live in my head, there is an anorexic girl. And I don’t know that I have ever distinguished her voice until now. But she is harsh. And judgmental. And disgusted by my weakness. That I folded to the temptation of another coffee. When I should constantly be trying for less, not more. She wants progress toward perfection. Perfection is the goal.

And there is one more important thing I am hearing from her. Not important because she is right. Important because I need to distinguish her sickness. She tells me happiness is of no value. Peace either. Perfection is the only goal. To be attained and then maintained at all costs.

This is what I want to say about that. You don’t get a say, Anorexic Girl. You are not the kind of woman I want to be. Your desire for perfection does not impress me.

I want happiness. And peace. I want to enjoy my life. And the fluidity of it. The dance. And I don’t want to focus on what I can’t, don’t or shouldn’t. I have my commitment to my food boundaries. And to never eating sugar, grains, or starch. And I even have some guidelines around coffee and artificial sweetener. All of these things enhance my life. These things make my life bigger, not smaller.

Someday I might decide to stop drinking coffee. Or using artificial sweetener. (I said I might!) But if I do, it will be because I want to give myself something. Not to take something away.

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01 Jun 2013

I’m like a super hero. I’m so fast, my own body has to catch up to me.

So it’s weigh day. And for the second month in a row I lost weight. (Yay!) I’m down another 1.4 lbs. I’m at 158.8. It’s good. I’m grateful for it. I’m trying not to wish for it to go faster.

I have done a pretty good job of not focusing on my body. (Except for my tan, anyway. I have spent a lot of time focusing on that.) I haven’t been eating “lighter”. I have not been choosing “diet” foods. I have been eating plenty of bacon and cheese. Always, of course, within my boundaries. But I have not been trying to help the weight loss along. Or hurry it up. I’ve got enough to process without also trying to manage my weight.

Eat within my boundaries. That’s all I have to do. It’s enough.

Also, I have been very emotional lately. Very emotional.

Yes, I am happy. Still. More happy every day, really.

But I forget that the kind of life change I just made, accompanied by a physical move half way across the country, is traumatic. That it would be for anyone in the world. And that love doesn’t make it not traumatic. It just makes me forget that it’s traumatic. But even if I forget or fail to notice that I just jumped into a new life with no preparation and almost no time to adjust, my body has noticed. My heart and soul are overjoyed. I know that I am in the right place. With the right person. But my body is letting me know that it has to deal with the upheaval.

There are two things that are happening that have me understand that my body is in shock. I have a stress-related form of eczema. I have had it most of my memorable life. And I am having a particularly severe outbreak right now. And on a few occasions now, I have found myself crying over silly things. Irrational crying. In other words, I am having feelings that I can’t explain and I don’t know how to manage.

And I don’t get to eat them.

These kinds of feelings and experiences are why I ate sugar. Why I was a binge eater and sugar addict. Because sugar got me crazy high. Anesthetized. So I didn’t have to deal with feelings. And I didn’t have to deal with discomfort. And the not dealing occurred like managing.

But that was not the reality. I was not managing. The thing about not dealing with feelings is that they don’t go away. They just become dormant. Until they’re not anymore. Until they come back with a vengeance. From out of nowhere. When I least expect them.

So I’m not eating over my irrational emotions. And I’m not trying to hide or stifle or contain them. I’m crying when I feel the need to cry. And honoring what is going on in my body. And letting it be what it is. Because it is what it is. And carbs and sugar and binge eating won’t change that.

And then I’m trusting. That everything is going exactly the way it should be going. And that life is giving me the right things at the right time. And that as long as I keep my food under control I can come from a place of love. And that when I come from love, I can’t do it wrong or mess it up or fail. Because I know I’m where I want to be. And where I’m supposed to be. And with the person I’m supposed to be with.

I have heard it said that the only way around is through. So I’m going straight through. Right through the center. Because when this adjustment is done, I want it to be really done. And when I have moved on, I want to really be moved on.

I like to live clean. Honest, with integrity, and in the present moment. And I can say at this particular present moment, as I hit the “publish” button to post this, that I am well and happy. And that there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

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26 May 2013

I love you more than bacon. Just please don’t make me prove it.

So I’m unpacked and settled and happy at home. My new home. South. Hot and slow. And surprisingly enjoyable. I’m writing from the pool. And I’m wearing my bikini. In public.

I love it by the way. Wearing my bikini in public. I’m still a little insecure. Of course. I have a lifetime of thinking “nobody wants to see that.” But it’s my sun. And my summer. And my body. Just the way it is. And I am in love. And someone really amazing is in love with me back. Which makes my insecurities a little less. Seem a little silly. Who am I trying to impress? Plus it’s not New York City. It’s the south. Where people love their barbecue. And don’t care so much about body size.

I love the sun. And how it makes me look and feel. I’m allowed to just love it. It’s the first thing I am loving about leaving New York City.

And other things have changed already, as well.

When I stopped eating compulsively 7 ½ years ago, I went from eating constantly, to eating three times a day. But I still cherish eating. Or maybe “still” is the wrong word. I used to live to eat. Now I love to eat. Because I do it without guilt or shame. So I really wanted to relish those 3 times a day. I never wanted to share my meal times before. I always wanted to eat alone. I used to hole myself up in my room to eat. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to be entirely wrapped up in my delicious, glorious, guilt-free meal.

Another thing that happened when I put boundaries around my eating, is that I would go through long phases of eating the same things. I refer to periods of my life by foods I ate. There was the summer of turnip “french fries” and coffee shakes. There was the winter of baked custard. There was over a year when I ate deep-fried onions three times a week. I just recently ate carrot cake and pickles every night for dinner. All specially made by me, without sugar or flour, of course. All within my boundaries.

But I just moved. And some interesting things about my eating rituals have changed. Like there’s somebody to eat with. Not that my boyfriend eats the way I do. And I certainly don’t expect him to. Or wish he would. But it’s nice to sit across from him. Not somebody. Him. This man whom I moved half way across the country to be with. I’m not wishing somebody were there to eat lunch with during the week when he’s at work. But when we are together, sharing my meal times with him feels sacred. Like family. Like home.

And the things I have been eating since I got here keep changing. I have had so many different things and I haven’t even been home for a week. Plus there are new things I want to make. To try. I am looking forward to experimenting.

So here’s the epiphany I just had. Before I fell in love, food was my biggest source of joy. And experimentation was a risk. I was risking how much joy I would experience on any given day. So I didn’t. I wouldn’t take the risk. But now my joy comes from love. So I have more room to risk not loving my food.

Don’t get me wrong. I still really love my meals. And loving them is still really important to me. But I love my boyfriend more. (And that’s sayin’ something!)

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28 Apr 2013

Here we go…

So it’s another short one this week. I’m with my boyfriend again. And this weekend was spent meeting each other’s parents. Which was great. But, you know…Thank God that part is over. Even though everybody was cool, and we’re obviously in love and happy together, it was stressful.

And now the next part is that I’m leaving New York to be with my boyfriend full-time. I’m going back to my Brooklyn apartment one last time to pack it up and ship it to his place. Before June, I will no longer be a resident of New York.

It might look fast from an outsider’s perspective. Although, maybe not…I’m actually surprised that we haven’t had more people question our choice. Basically everybody has been happy for us. My friends are all supportive. Go! We’ll miss you! But, go!

Of course, I am 35. Not 15. Or even 25. But also, I have so much clarity. And self-assurance. They know that I make good choices. That I have excellent judgment.

I talk about my clarity a lot in this blog. How it’s one of the gifts I got from quitting sugar and putting boundaries around my eating. But there is another gift that I talk about less. Maybe it’s because for me it’s about God, and I know that “God” is a loaded term.

The one thing I will say about God this week is that my relationship with God is about my life. God doesn’t talk to me about what other people should do or think or say or be. God talks to me about me.

And I know that God wants me to pick up my life and move. That He wants me to be with my boyfriend. There is not a doubt in my mind.

That “knowing” is what I mean by self-assurance. The answer is obvious. God wants me to keep boundaries around my food. God wants me to leave New York to go be with the man I love.

In September I wrote a post about how it was difficult to leave my own kitchen. That I was attached to sameness and routine when it came to food. Now, just 8 months later, I’ve been traveling like crazy. With a future life of moving every 2 months to a year. (My boyfriend moves around a lot for work.) And it’s suddenly easy. Peaceful. Obvious. I’m not afraid.

Because I know it’s what God wants for me. God wants me to keep my food boundaries. And He wants me to be with this man. How do I know? I have no idea. But I know both things like I know that the sun rises in the East. I know them like I know how to walk. I don’t question. And I don’t have to. And because I know these things, I know that as long as I am willing to keep boundaries around my food, God will make it possible. Even if we end up living in hotels with hot-plates for a month or two.

I am nervous. I’m an anxious person. The unknown always makes me nervous. That may never change. And I am about to leap into the unknown. But I am not afraid. Here we go…

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06 Apr 2013

I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore. Is it time for lunch?

There are 2 things I want to talk about this week.

The first is that I gained just under 2 lbs in the past 2 months. I weigh 162.2 lbs now. And I did freak out a little, like I thought I might. But like I also figured I would, I got over it pretty quickly. But there is a thought process that keeps getting clearer and clearer in my head. And maybe all the more clear because I’m not panicking. It’s an irrational thought. And I know that. But knowing doesn’t stop it from occurring as true. The thought is that the weight gain will never stop.

I do not eat compulsively. And I do not eat enough to get fat. But I am sure that I will keep gaining weight. Even eating the way that I eat, I do not trust that it will stop. I have a thought that is something like You got to be somewhere between thin and skinny for seven years. It was a good run. But now you have to go back to living in a fat body you hated. You always knew it would come back to that. You always knew you were broken.

This is sick thinking. It’s ridiculous. It’s also scientifically not sound. But what it shows me most clearly is that I do not trust that things are going the way they should. Which is fascinating if you consider that I just got a fairy tale love story out of the blue. Apparently, I can agree that God got the man exactly right, beyond my wildest dreams, yet I refuse to give Him any credit for knowing what to do about my body. Even while I’m doing my part! I do not eat compulsively and I keep boundaries around my food.

The other thing I want to talk about is how grateful I am that having boundaries around my food gives some stability to my life. I have had people say to me that they could never do what I do because it’s so inconvenient. And I can see how it can occur as inconvenient. And it has, on occasion occurred to me as inconvenient. But I’m going to tell you something. Right now, when a twister has just picked up the little Kansas farm-house that is my life and is spinning me around and kicking up dust on my way to wherever it is it’s taking me (I’m keeping my fingers crossed for someplace magical in full Technicolor), it’s pretty damn convenient to have some structures in place to remind me of who I am, and help me feel safe.

I have mentioned before that one of my rules (and I have many rules around food) is that I eat 3 meals a day. Always. And only. I don’t eat in between meals. I don’t have snacks. I don’t grab something quick to tide me over. And I don’t skip meals. 3 meals a day.

One thing that means is that I plan my life around that system. Not the other way around. Don’t get me wrong. I definitely have a life. (Or I could if I wanted one, anyway.) If I want to go to a party or a play or just meet up with friends, I can do that. I do not have rigid or non-negotiable times that I must eat. (Though there are times that I definitely prefer to eat.) But whatever is on my agenda, somehow, I need to figure out how I’m going to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner. Each within all of the various rules and boundaries that go with eating for me. If I can’t make that work, I can’t do it. This is a powerful tool for me. I already have my first priority. That makes everything and everyone else on my priority list easier to place.

Another thing it means is that 3 times a day, every day, I stop what I’m doing. I stop thinking. I stop worrying. I stop planning. I stop acting. I stop everything. And I enjoy a meal. And I mean enjoy. I take my time. I savor. I talk to my food. I make “mmmm” and “oh my God” noises.

And at this time in my life I am so grateful to have a priority I hold as sacred. And three pauses built into my day. Because right now, my brain will not stop. And everything feels uncertain. My life is totally unfamiliar. I wasn’t prepared to have my belief system about myself, and to a certain extent, the way I identify myself, get thrown over. Basically over night.

Please understand, being in love is fan-freaking-tastic. I am not complaining. It is what I have always wanted. And it has turned out to be even more wonderful than I ever imagined it could be. But the whole thing is so new. For the second time in a year, I’m in emotional free-fall. And I am not calm. Or peaceful. I’m incredibly happy! So joyful! But my brain is in overdrive. And that can make me feel overwhelmed. And being overwhelmed can make me either shut down, or spin my wheels. And most often, alternate between the two.

So right now when I am walking in circles (sometimes literally, by the way) wondering what I should do or where I should go or what’s next and where to start, I can start with the food.

Did I eat breakfast? Do I know what I’m having for lunch and dinner? Do I have them on hand, or do I have to make or get them? Do I have a plan for getting them? Do I have everything I need in the house for tomorrow’s breakfast?

Having answers to the what, when, how, and how much questions about food has a special effect on me. (Sometimes anyway.) It can calm me down enough to figure out the next, non-food-related thing that needs to get done. Or when it doesn’t, it reminds me that eating three meals within my boundaries and not eating in between meals is enough. That it’s a hell of a lot better than whatever it was that I was doing when I was eating compulsively 7 ½ years ago. That not only do I not need to conquer the world, I don’t even need to conquer my breakfast dishes. Earth will not explode.

And there is a sense of safety to eating 3 meals a day. I can stop in the middle of something because it’s time for a meal. I can take a break from cleaning, crocheting, writing my blog, even cooking tomorrow’s meals. It turns out that whatever it is I’m in the middle of will be there when I return to it. And even better, I will be well fed. Everything looks different after a meal. Better. Clearer. More manageable. It reminds me that I can take my time and do things in baby steps. It makes me feel safe and stable. No matter what revolutionary changes are happening in my life, there will be 3 meals a day. And there is always another meal coming.

And my favorite is when it’s actually time to eat. When it’s time to eat, nothing matters but eating. All of the mistakes I have made and will make cease to exist. All of the things I have to do – the people I have to call back, the emails I have to respond to, life I have to deal with – disappear for the time that I am eating. For that time, it’s me and my food. Guilt free food! That’s heaven!

Look, I’m trying to stay out of my own way when it comes to this whole being-in-love-with-an-amazing-man thing. I’m trying to remember that he knows that I’m not perfect and he loves me anyway. And that I will make mistakes in our relationship, and that it will be ok. I’m trying to remember that my life is easier when I trust that everything is going the way that it should. That God wants me to be happy. And I don’t want to lose sight of the fact that I am happy. And well fed. And in love. I might be walking in circles, but I’ve sure got a smile on my face.

Posted in Body image, Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
30 Mar 2013
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Now that I’m normal around food, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat…

I want to talk about my body dismorphia again this week. Because I don’t have it today. And it really seems gone. Like *poof*. Like magic.

The first of the month is just days away. That’s the day I weigh myself. And I will weigh myself April 1st. And I am not worried. I feel beautiful. I think I look great.

Sure I could freak a little if I gained more weight. But I’m pretty sure I would get over it pretty quickly. And I am not filled with anxiety anticipating getting on the scale. Knowing weigh day is coming is not eating away at me like it has for almost a year.

I’m in love. With a man who thinks my body is beautiful. Right now. Not skinny. And I’m happy. Stupid happy. If I were not-in-love Kate looking at me this happy, I would make myself gag. Seriously. It’s ridiculous how doe-eyed I am. How filled with benevolence toward all of mankind.

That is the thing about my eating and body image disorders. They are excellent at occurring like they have disappeared. Especially when I’m super-duper crazy happy. Like now. Don’t be fooled. I am not fooled.

It’s imperative that I remember that just because I am happy and in love, it does not follow that I am better. Or normal. Around food or my body. Being in a good mood does not make me cured. Love doesn’t take away my eating disorders. I am just as sick around food and my body as I have ever been. And this could even be even more dangerous. It’s not, but it could be. If I’m not careful.

I feel normal. Or more like super-human. Eat uncontrollably? When I’m so happy? When the world is all sparkles and tickley and pink? Why would I? How could I?

But I know. Of course I could. And I know I would kill this buzz by acting like I’m normal. I know I could hate myself in an instant by acting like I’m neutral around food all of a sudden. It wouldn’t take much. A chocolate easter egg. One of those little itty bitty ones. Wrapped in pretty, shiny gold foil. A little bite. A little extra. A little taste. And I’m royally and undeniably f***ed. Just so we’re clear.

Many times I have been told that I don’t look like I need to put boundaries around my food. Of course I don’t look like I’m sick with food. I look the way I do because I put boundaries around my food. My default setting is a 300 lb girl who can’t stop eating.

I don’t keep boundaries around my food when I’m fat, until I get thin. I don’t keep boundaries around my food while I’m unhappy, until I get happy. I don’t do it when things are not going my way, until circumstances are better. I do it always. Under any and all conditions. No matter what.

And here’s another thing. I have a brand new reason to maintain my boundaries. One that I haven’t had before. If I pick up sugar, grains, or starch, or start eating compulsively, a really important part of the woman who my boyfriend fell in love with goes away. And so does a part of the woman who was ready and able to fall in love with him. I don’t do what I do for him. God knows I did it for years as a single woman. For myself. But now there is someone else I want to take care of myself for. I want to like myself when I’m with him. I want to know that I have integrity when I talk to him. I want to know that I have been treating my body with respect when it is in his arms. I want to be present for him. I want to be available for our relationship. I want to make sure he stays as important to me as he is right now.

Because if I were eating compulsively, I would care about food first. More than myself. More than him. More than love. Cake would trump my relationship. And that is not hyperbole.

I am not telling you this because I feel like I’m in danger right now. I am not actually worried about crossing my boundaries. I’m telling you to keep myself out of danger. I’m telling you because I have to regularly remind myself that I have food and body issues. Every day, in fact. It’s a preemptive measure. And especially right now, when I “don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs to keep boundaries around her food”, it’s in my best interest to remember that this beautiful, happy, glowing, beaming, stunning, effervescent, specimen of radiant joy and serenity is a 300 lb, binge-eating, laxative-abusing, 14-miles-a-day-running, bulimic. Who hasn’t had to do that stuff for so long that she had time and space and peace enough to fall in love.

Posted in Body image, Inspiration, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , ,
23 Mar 2013
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Wow am I ever glad I didn’t quit 5 minutes earlier…

About seven years ago, when I had just quit sugar and stopped eating compulsively, people who had gone before me would say that if I kept boundaries around my food, my life would get better. They would tell me to just keep moving ahead. Not to quit 5 minutes before the miracle.

I don’t remember what I thought of that at the time. I don’t think I had much imagination for what kind a miracles they could have been talking about. Just not eating a whole cake seemed like its own kind of miracle. I vaguely remember thinking that not eating compulsively would have to be better. That being thin would be better. But I don’t think I thought it meant that my whole life would get better. And yet that’s what they were telling me. And not just me.

It’s what they would tell the woman going through the ugly divorce and/or the heart-wrenching custody battle. The one getting evicted. The one who just lost a job. They were telling people who were going through difficult and scary situations that if they just kept their boundaries around their eating, their lives would get better. That there were miracles if they just didn’t give up. If they just didn’t eat compulsively.

Now I sometimes tell people who are just starting out the same thing. And so many of them get frustrated. Or incredulous. Or even angry.

How can putting boundaries around my eating make my life get better? What does eating have to do with anything?

And I have to be honest with you. There are things about it that just plain don’t make sense.

Don’t get me wrong. Some of it makes perfect sense. I can see that I face things head on when I have my eating under control. That my first instinct is to deal with people and situations with honesty and integrity. That I don’t manipulate. And let’s face it, honesty and integrity simplify everything.

And I mostly make good choices. I am clear-headed. I am thoughtful. I trust myself. And I remember that if I make a choice that doesn’t work out well, I can go back with honesty and good will and do my best to make it better.

I like myself too. So I make most choices from a positive outlook, not from a place of fear. I don’t choose to hide myself, or appear in some affected or manufactured form in order to please someone. Or keep them from disliking, or judging me. I can be who I am. Comfortably. Happily.

And I am open to life. To good and bad. Every day that I keep boundaries around my eating, I am better able to go with the flow and roll with the punches. I’m able to show up for life exactly as it is. And that’s cumulative. I’m better at that today than I was last year, or the year before. I was better in 2008 than I was when I started in January of 2006. I get better at it every day I don’t eat compulsively.

But there really is something more to it too. Something otherworldly. Just like they told me seven years ago. Magic or Miracles or Kismet. Whatever. I don’t know what else to call it. And I don’t know why it happens. And from straight out of the blue. But it does.

Like now.

I’m in love. And he is too.

It’s sudden. It’s intense. But it’s beautiful and exciting. And a little bit surreal. And I’m so clear. And so honored. And so ready.

And I wasn’t ready until now. I can see that. I spent the last seven years getting myself to a place where I really and truly liked myself. And I spent the last two years making myself the kind of woman I wanted to offer as a partner. I even started writing this blog because I wanted to heal my heart so I could fall in love.

And just about as soon as I was ready, there he was. And he was ready too.

And it’s so incredibly easy. And perfectly comfortable. It all makes perfect sense.

I can imagine that it might look impulsive or ridiculous to the outside world. But then again, maybe not. We are not 19-year-olds. We have both lived. We are adults. Well into our 30’s. With some scars and some wisdom. And that makes it all the more magical to me. That instead of ending up jaded, we have young, pure hearts.

I had spent over 30 years resigning myself to the fact that I was unlovable and destined for loneliness. And then I wondered for several years if I could find love if I fixed myself up spiritually. So I did that.

And then about two years ago I tried to have faith. To trust that love would come. In God’s time, and on Life’s terms. And faith and trust were hard. And I didn’t do the best job with them. But it turns out I didn’t have to do them perfectly. I did them just fine in the end.

But this is one thing I am clear on. What I did get perfectly right was my commitment to the food. Not that I never made an honest mistake. I have made a few. But I never crossed a boundary willfully or purposely.

I got love because I put boundaries around my food. And I kept them. And I continue to keep them. I got love because 3 meals a day, for over seven years, no matter what has gone on in my life, I have practiced deep self-love. Nourishing my body with real food, and nourishing my soul with boundaries around that food.

How can putting boundaries around my eating make my life get better? What does eating have to do with anything?
Everything. I don’t know how it works. Or why. I just know it has made me available for love. And miracles. I just know that I kept my boundaries and my life got better. I just know that I am incredibly grateful that I didn’t quit 5 minutes before the miracle.

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