onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “eating boundaries”

02 Jun 2024

Obsessed is not in love

Over the past 2 years, I have not been trying to lose weight, but I have. I don’t weigh my body anymore, because of my body dysmorphia. But I am in size Small linen and workout pants and I believe I am a US size 6 right now. Which I was in my early 30s and is right around the smallest I have ever been since I was 12 years old. But also, I have not actually tried on a pair of size 6 hard pants, so I don’t really know.

And I don’t want to know right now. 

Managing my body is simple, if not easy. I sleep 8 hours a night, I drink water and keep my eating boundaries and workout and now I even go to the doctor and do my health maintenance. 

But managing my *thoughts* about my body is regularly a shitshow. 

I named this blog Onceafatgirl because once a fat girl, always a fat girl. Because the society and the culture made its mark on me because I was fat. And it’s a scar. 

I know it’s societal. I know that all women and even plenty of men are subjected to this same scrutiny and many  unrealistic expectations. But those of us who are or have been fat, know that it is not just about our looks. It’s a condemnation of our characters. And has a whiff of the Predestination of our Puritanical roots.

And even though I have spent many years now actively trying to dismantle my internalized fat phobia, my knee-jerk first thought of being physically smaller is a little shot of dopamine. A little happiness. As a treat.

So I am not going to go try on clothes. I am not going to stand in front of the mirror looking for minute changes. At least not right now. Not while I am obsessive. Because what comes after that is…insane….It’s wondering how many fewer calories I can eat (even though I don’t count calories.) How much more exercise I can do. It’s researching online how to burn more fat, and thinking about actually doing some of the weird or stupid stuff I see recommended. It’s just general craziness. 

And it makes me like myself less, not more. 

So I am just trying my best not to think about my body. Because being obsessed with it isn’t love. Love is accepting something or someone exactly as they are.

But I will close by saying that one of the best ways I keep my body dysmorphia at bay is to do those things I mentioned at the beginning. Sleep and water and exercise and general self nurturing. As long as I do my daily routine of self care, I don’t need to hyper focus on my body anyway.

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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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12 May 2024

Ready for a nice time on a nice day

In 45 minutes, I need to be out the door for Mother’s Day. We have to pick up the beef sandwich set ups and the appetizer tray, and the chicken tenders. And my brother-in-law is bringing the sodas and the snacks and dessert. 

And none of it is for me. I have a lunch packed. I will bring my diet soft drinks because I’m the only one who drinks them. I even bring my own silverware and a mini spatula so I don’t lick my plate or bowl in front of everyone. Because I would. And in a pinch I still will. Hence the bringing of the spatula. 

I leave nothing about my food to chance. And I love that for me. I know I can count on myself to do my best and care. 

I don’t miss Chicago Italian beef sandwiches, though they have been off the list for over 18 years. Are they spectacular? Of course. Are they worth picking up the drug that makes me hate myself? Absolutely not. 

A lot of people say just have one. As if it were an obvious answer. 

If I could just have one, my friend, I would not do this. Why would I choose all this work if I were capable of moderation?

I am happy to provide fun party foods to others. I am happy to go to a family event with people who have never known me any way but bringing my own food to every event. It’s a nice day and I’m ready to have a nice time. 

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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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07 Apr 2024

Keepin’ it clean

This week I made all of my maintenance style doctor appointments. It’s a thing I hate that I literally avoided for over 20 years. But I have a philosophy that I learned when I got my eating under control. I quit the thing that is killing me quickest. 

First it was simple sugars and carbohydrates. Then cigarettes. And eventually it was my staunch refusal to go to a doctor. 

I’m 46. I will turn 47 in June. I am not young. And I am not stupid. I know people live longer because we have preventative measures as well as improved drugs and technology. So I put on my big girl panties and I scheduled my exams and check ups. 

But as a person who grew up fat, I want to say that the medical system traumatized me. And the only reason it does not continue to do so is that I have spectacular boundaries. And I put them in place vigorously and shamelessly. 

When I was single and dating, I remember having a date coming up, and I was eating my dinner in a coffee shop before hand and dropped some on the floor. I was not going to eat it. And frankly, it was so little that under different circumstances, I would not have thought about it. But I was going on a date. So I called someone who does what I do with food to “turn it over.” Just tell someone the truth about it because part of being an addict for me is being a liar about food. I told her that when it comes to dating, I want to be “clean.” I didn’t want anything to muddle my thinking. 

And I am so glad I did. Because the date was terrible. He was mean to me. When I told him that, he tried to make out with me. Which, obviously hell no! And then he got mad when I would not let him drive me home because he had been drinking. 

Now all of this might sound like an obvious progression of no on my part. But if it does, you have never been a woman out on a date who was trying to deescalate an uncomfortable situation. I almost let this drunk man drive me home because he was pressing me in an upsetting way. 

But I didn’t. I was clean. I knew my worth. I knew that I did not want what was on offer. And I knew that I had the right to say no however I needed to.

Well I am looking into finding some voice work and voice acting as a job soon. I love to act and do improv. I am naturally clever and I have enough experience to know that being quick is a muscle you can build. 

So this feels like that meal before that date. I want to be clean! I want to keep this vessel healthy. It is my instrument. And I want to signal to Life and the Universe that I am ready to take whatever comes. To take it seriously. To take it with grace and humor. And to make something out of it.

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31 Mar 2024

The Trust that comes with Peace

It occurred to me today that as the weather gets nicer, I am going to have more plans and engagements. And already I can feel myself panic little. About the future thought of future weekend commitments. Just in general.

Getting practical about time was just plain necessary when I got my eating under control. I had made a series of commitments to myself about my eating. But I had never had that kind of loyalty to myself before. And now, I had to have all of these things. The foods I needed in the quantities I needed them in.!A scale for weighing my food. The time to prepare it. The time to eat it and then wait at least 4 hours before the next meal. 

There was no grabbing something for now. There was no slice of pizza in a pinch. Every bite that went into my mouth was (still is) done with clarity and purpose. And that meant setting aside time to do the shopping, the prepping, the cooking, the portioning, the packing. And that made me get practical about time.

What I would like to get practical about now, is Trust. Trusting myself to get my priorities taken care of. Trusting the universe to provide a viable solution to my problems. Trusting that Life is right and giving me the best opportunity to be joyful and fulfilled.

A little story about  what I mean.  I am going to my friend’s birthday party in CT in a couple of weeks. But I didn’t buy my tickets because I had not heard back from people about places to stay and when to schedule my flight back home. So I didn’t do anything. Even though my husband was very anxious about it. 

If I had had to guess how it would have gone and just bought my plane tickets, I would have gotten it all wrong. I would have flown into the wrong city, I would have stayed a day longer than my host would have wanted. And then I would have had to deal with the consequences of those actions. Lots of work to do more work.

But instead I waited until it felt right to reach back out to people again. And all at once I got all of the information I needed to get everything done efficiently and perfectly and to everyone’s satisfaction. 

It felt amazing to just trust Life. It felt so good to let things be what they are without that need to bend them to my will. As if I could. As if that would give me anything better than what Life has planned for me. 

So in this year of joyful, peaceful, purposeful production, I am grateful for this opportunity to practice the trust that comes with Peace. (Remind me of how grateful I am when it gets real hard, please…)

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17 Mar 2024

More brain space for all this *gestures vaguely*

Yet another week of too much to think about, too little to say.

I suppose in most contexts that would be a good thing. In blog writing, not so much.

What I have to say is that I am not thinking about how to get thinner. I am not thinking about how other people are looking at my body. I am not obsessing about food. I am not worrying about what I am going to eat next or when. Or how I am going to get it. Or who will see me eat it and what they will think about it.

And that has been true as long as I have had boundaries around my eating. My weight has fluctuated greatly over the past 18 years of food boundaries. For me, the peace is not in the weight but in the eating. Or rather, in the ability to stop eating constantly and compulsively.

So that’s a lot of free space in my brain now because I keep boundaries around my eating and avoid my drug foods. 

I firmly and fully believe that I only get to have the awful, cathartic, painful, wonderful, exhilarating, worthwhile experience of growing into my most authentic and content self by keeping my eating under control.

So I keep doing it. And now maybe I have a chance to be even better than I thought I could be.

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10 Mar 2024

Life is hard. Eating is a delight.

I have started and scrapped so many posts today. I am going through one of my “cascade” moments of learning. Where many things over many areas of my life, physically, emotionally, spiritually, seem to fall quickly into place and change my entire perspective on things. So there is so much to say. Too much with not enough information. From the universe to me, I mean.

So I guess what I want to say is that while terrifying, these growth spurts are always a blessing, no matter how painful. And they are only possible because I have my eating under control.

I am a sugar addict. I am an alcoholic with sugar. And I mean that literally. 

There is a saying among the people who do what I do with food. “My body is a still.” If human ingenuity can make it into alcohol, my body can probably do it faster. 

I spent a lot of time drunk on sugar growing up. And I acted like it. I passed out like an alcoholic. I lied, cheated, and stole like an alcoholic. I was unreliable. I was irritable. I hated myself like an alcoholic. But I was a drunk on French fries and candy bars.

So here I am, in the midst of a spiritual awakening – one of many so far – that is uncomfortable but also exciting, and it’s all because 18 years ago I chose to give up what I thought was the only joy in my life.

But instead I got a life beyond my wildest dreams. And then I got to understand that there was even something better than that. And I got that too. And I got to understand that I will keep getting to keep going.

I will admit that sometimes I get to a place in my life, and I wonder if this is where I will get stuck. Because I can’t imagine what could be on the other side. But there has always been another side. And it has always been better than the last.

What I really am is so grateful for the routine of my food boundaries. And for the belief that the best way to fight my sugar addiction is to eat abundantly of foods that I love that don’t get me drunk. So I can love my food. Find refuge and solace and joy in it.

Life is hard. Eating is a delight.

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03 Mar 2024

Stay where it’s warm

I have had a really intense week of spiritual awakening. It was around some inner child healing work. And it was made clear to me that around the time I was 12 or 13 was when I really shut down. Buttoned myself up. 

If you know me, you may think that this me who is “buttoned up” is still pretty wild. I think that is probably true. There have always been things about me that have been intense for the people around me.

For example, I cry. I have always been a crier. And to basically everyone’s chagrin, I never learned how to get control over it. So when I say that the crying I have been doing this week is “different” than usual, there is, indeed, a “usual” and this is not it.

The tears this week have been big. And hot. These are kid tears. These are the kinds of tears I saw on children when I was nanny when they didn’t have the words to express themselves, or the power to change things without an adult. They are tears of fear and powerlessness, and have probably been buried in my heart for 40 years. 

Over the past couple of years, I have come to understand that the people around me didn’t feel about me the way one might expect them to feel about a kid in the family. They ways they didn’t like me. The ways they didn’t want to deal with me. The ways they did deal with me which were often mean. But it was the water I was swimming in. A fish doesn’t know what water is until they end up out of it. Except fish die out of water. And once I got out, I thrived.

One of the things that happened to me when I went to college, and then even more when I moved away to New York City at 21, was that I ended up spending time with people who actually did like me. Who thought I was fun and funny and nice. Who thought I was worth time and energy and effort. People who didn’t think I was a know-it-all. People who didn’t roll their eyes at me or make me the punchline of a joke because I was sensitive and it was fun to make me cry. People who actually sought me out. 

All of a sudden it was warm.

I’m not saying that all of the adults in my childhood were awful to me. But there were plenty. Plural. And nobody to tell me it wasn’t me. It was them. No one to tell me that as a child, I could not really have deserved the kinds of bullying and just mean-spiritedness I received. I am saying that I was a grown up before I had any sense of myself being likable or worth liking. 

“Stop being so sensitive. If you didn’t cry so easily, you wouldn’t be such an easy target.”

So I tried to make myself small enough to fly under the radar. I’m not saying I was good at it. Just that it was what I had to work with. 

The idea that I am supposed to let that little girl out and tell her she is allowed to be as big and weird and fun and stupid and overly confident and creative and daring as she wanted to be before 12 is terrifying. One bitten twice shy is a whole different world when it feels like you were the sacrificial meal for years.  

When I got my eating under control, I wanted to be done. To be cooked. To be complete. But instead it has been a long process of uncovering my most authentic self more deeply every day. And 18+ years into it, the lessons and gifts are deeper and more profound, not less. 

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