onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “food addiction”

Get you a partner who grows!

There are all sorts of big changes going on over here. My plumbing works like a dream, and my patio, which had to be dug up to replace some clay pipe, has been reinstalled, but with a handy-dandy new access point so we won’t have to dig it up again. The shrubberies in front of our house have been removed. Plus, new siding has been ordered, and hopefully that and the porch will be replaced by the end of the month.

But even bigger than that, my husband and I have started a new morning routine working out together. And it’s pretty amazing. 

The truth is it’s nothing crazy. He has a rowing machine and I have a mini stepper. We wake up at around 4 in the morning and do half an hour of cardio. I do some floor exercises and stretching while he showers. I see him off to work and go about the rest of my day. By 7am I have drunk my water, worked out, showered, done my writing, meditation, and written my gratitudes, and had a big, delicious breakfast. 

I love that my husband has made this choice for himself. I did not ask him to, I did not need him to, I did not think he “should.” He told me he was thinking about it. I asked him if he would like me to join him if he did. He said he would. 

But phew if it isn’t sexy as hell. It’s not about bodies or attractiveness. (I sent him a screenshot of an ad with one of those fitness couples and captioned it, “It’s us!” And boy did we laugh. Friends, it will never be us…) It’s about having a partner who wants to grow. It’s about having a marriage that is so good we both want to be around for it longer. It’s about being a better version of myself so I can be a better wife. And having a husband who sees that and thinks “ok. Bet.” 

I’m still in limbo in terms of what comes next for me in my work and money life. But I have a good feeling about this new routine. Fingers crossed that this new way of life shakes something loose for me.

No time to need to know

I can’t find my car keys. I have *a* set of keys to my car, but not *my* set. 

I ran errands on Wednesday. I didn’t do anything Thursday that required leaving my house. And then on Friday, the plumbers called to say that they were on their way to dig up and replace my pipes, so I needed to move my car. But I couldn’t find my keys.

After a very long time looking, I finally decided to just use the spare set to move my car. And then I used the spare set to run more errands.

But once I got home, I was back to looking for the keys. I would partially do some task, thinking about where my keys could be, and then stop what I was doing to go check some really ridiculous place. At one point on Friday, I was literally wearing one sock with my hair half braided because twice I felt compelled to stop getting ready for my workout to go look in my underwear drawer or my laundry hamper or under the bed.

I didn’t want to keep looking. I knew that it didn’t matter. I had the spare set. Surely the keys would turn up eventually. But I could only wonder if I put them in the fridge when I put the groceries away on Wednesday. Did I go upstairs to get yarn at some point? Did I leave the keys in my yarn closet?

My brain is obsessive. I already know that. And there was a time when I could, and sometimes did, lose whole days to looking for something I lost. But when I got my eating under control I *had to* eat my meals three times a day. That meant stopping what I was doing. It meant making and eating my portion-controlled, sugar-free meal, no matter what obsessive thoughts I might have. It meant getting the distinction of “priorities.”

When I got my eating under control, I was told I had to call someone every day and tell them what I was going to eat the next day. Over 17 years later, I still do that. Every single day. (Ok, occasionally I text or leave a voicemail. But still every day.) It taught me that there is power in telling another person my intentions. 

Finally I called my best friend and I told her “I need to tell someone that I am going to let this go because I am obsessed with needing to know what happened to them. And I don’t have time to need to know!!! I have to workout and eat lunch! I have shit to do!” 

My bestie said that it was clear that I was not done looking. (She was right.) And that that was ok. But that now was not the time. It was time to workout and eat lunch. (Right again!) Did I already know that? Yes! Could I get there on my own? No!

Days later and I still don’t know what happened to the keys. And I still take a moment occasionally to look in ridiculous places. (The box where we store the outdoor cushions? The countertop behind the microwave?) But the truth is, missing the set is barely even an inconvenience. And I expect the keys will turn up eventually. And even if they don’t, if it becomes a problem in the future, I will deal with it then. But I was probably on track to lose a whole day. When all I needed was a little help to reset my brain.

Getting through. Grace optional.

It has been a broken shoelace kind of week. When I first got my eating under control 17+ years ago, people would talk about “broken shoelaces.” The little annoying things that happened that were not life altering, but were frustrating. And how they used to eat over this stuff. But in getting our eating under control, we learned to deal with our annoying problems, instead of eating them.

On Monday, my mini stepper broke. Right at the beginning of my workout the bolt holding the pulley in place just sheered right off. I am fine. And It was a cheap piece of equipment. So my husband told me to immediately order another one since he knows how much I love it. And then he said to get 2 so I have a backup in case this happens again. (They came that night! And they were on sale!) Then we can get me an expensive one that is better made for Christmas.

On Tuesday my niece came over before she went away to college. That was wonderful! But it also meant extra cooking and cleaning for me.

Then Wednesday, I was plunging my clogged drain and the drain basket pulled away from my kitchen sink and water started pouring into my under-sink cabinet. And when the plumber came, he found a forest of tree roots in my kitchen pipes. And another closer to my bathroom pipes. So now we are going to have to pull up part of our patio and have them dig out some clay pipe and replace it with more up-to-date materials so the roots can’t get in.

This has meant scheduling multiple days of my life and meals and workouts around getting things taken care of.

But I can. I have the mental capacity to do it because I am not high on sugar. I have the emotional capacity because I can take stock and take action instead of eating myself into a coma and sitting on the couch. I have the energy because my food is nourishing. And I have the spiritual capacity because I trust that Life is always giving me exactly what I need. (We are about to have new siding installed on our house. So maybe this is happening now so we don’t have to dig the pipes up in a year and destroy the siding.)

I don’t eat over stuff anymore. Or if I do, it’s during meal times. And it’s weighed out and sugar free. But for the most part I don’t have to. I can take what comes. I can get through it. Hopefully with grace. But let’s be honest. It’s the getting through that matters. Grace optional.

Can’t get my body out of my head

For all of 2022 I was either sick or injured. And so far, for all of 2023 my body has been shifting and changing.

I started walking stairs for exercise late last year because it was a workout I could do even when I was having trouble breathing. I would go slower for longer than if I were jogging, but I was still getting my heart rate up and sweating.

And then I got my breathing taken care of. And it turns out that a high energy workout on stairs will build your butt muscles. Quickly. And since then, I have been absolutely loving my workout. I am not miserable and gasping for air. I am loving the way my body is changing, and the shape my exercises are creating. And I naturally get faster the more weight I lose and lighter I am, which increases the number of steps I can take in my 30 minute workout, which again increases my muscle.

But the other thing is that currently I am just this side of obsessed with my body. And I don’t love that. It’s great to love my body. But I am an addict. And my love can go real bad, real quick.

In April, when I got my mini-stepper, I got weird about results. One day I could see them, the next they were all in my head. (They were never all in my head. My head is just a weird funhouse.) And in going about my day, I was stopping what I was doing to go look at my butt in the mirror. A lot.

Then I had a thought. That I should do one of those “picture a day” things, to track my progress.

Friends, I want to be less obsessed with my body, not more. And I realized that I do not want to do that to myself. Take a bajillion pictures of my butt to scrutinize and analyze and evaluate and judge. Not because I don’t adore my new butt. I do! I am absolutely in love with it in a way that I never could have been if I didn’t really work for it. But because I don’t want to “romance” my body obsession.

When people first start to do what I do with food, they have to change their language, in their minds and in their mouths. We have to stop saying chocolate is our “favorite” and start remembering that it is poison to us. And when the people I am responsible for mentoring start thinking longingly about sugar and carb “drug foods,” I tell them they have to learn to “change the channel.” To stop thinking what they are thinking and think something else. To stop “romancing” the food in their heads. Because it’s not a love affair. At the very least it’s an abusive relationship.


When I “romance” my body obsession, I start to think of all of the ways I could possibly get myself a “better” body. By which I mean a “thinner” body. Because when I obsess I am not obsessing about my health. Or my stamina. Or my flexibility. Or my strength. I am obsessing about my weight.

I am still very much in my head about my body. And I think that for as long as the changes continue to be noticeable in the mirror, I will continue to be more focused on my body than is comfortable. 

But I know from experience that this is temporary. That eventually things change. They even out or calm down or become irrelevant. And I know that I have been obsessed with my body before, many times for many reasons. Weight gain. Weight loss. The shape of some part or another. I am, after all, a sugar addict with eating and body image disorders. So I trust that this will pass. And I can have some room for my body obsession. And some room for my body to be its very lovely 46-year-old self.

Up Next: More Authenticity

I keep thinking lately about what comes next in my life. What I want to create for myself. How to do that.

Getting my eating under control was the first step in becoming the most authentic version of myself I could be. It began with complete honesty around my food and my eating. But that branched out into complete honesty about other things. Things like what I wanted as opposed to what I thought I should want. Things that made me happy and peaceful as opposed to the things that made the other people around me happy and peaceful.

When Sinead O’Connor died last month someone posted an interview with her, where she said that people spent a lot of time telling her that when she ripped up a picture of the Pope on TV she ruined her career. But she said that that was not true. There were some record producers who thought her music was going to buy them their vacation homes. She ruined *their* careers.

I want to remember that for myself. I didn’t throw away a job in construction. I chose to leave a job that was killing me, and would have killed me if I had let it.

I am ready to be of service. I am ready to embark on the next phase of my life. I am ready to find a new purpose and a new chapter. But I also know now that it has to be something that aligns with my heart and soul. And sometimes that is just as simple as not allowing myself to be overworked and underpaid.

I will close by saying that since I got my eating under control, I always get better than I thought I wanted. So I don’t know what comes next but I am very clear that whatever it is, it will be in line with the life I want to live and my dreams for my future.

I’ll think I was cute in ten years

The hardest part of this blog is that there are only so many things to say and only so many ways to say the same thing when it’s such a specific topic. Sugar addiction and the associated eating and body image disorders. I struggle, often, to find something to say that I don’t think is repetitive. I have even considered retiring this blog. But then I remember that I don’t write this blog to be read. I write it to say the truth I need to hear. For me. With the additional hope that it can help another addict.

So with that in mind, I have learned to honor that they won’t all be great posts. I try to remember that making great great art is contingent on one’s willingness to make bad art. So I just keep writing them. I keep committing to the practice. 

Recently I noticed someone reading through the archives of this blog. (Hi person! Thanks for reading!) I certainly don’t remember all of my posts. (It’s 52 a year for over 10 years.) So I went through and read the ones my new reader was reading , and I was happily surprised to find that I thought they were good. Interesting. Thought provoking. Funny! (I’m a lot less funny in this blog than I have been in years past. Part of it may be that I am comfortable enough in the writing that I spend less time trying to impress my readers. I feel like I should work on that.)

Certainly I noticed that there were sometimes points that I failed to make coherently. Plenty of punctuation and grammar errors. (I should probably have an editor. I mean I probably won’t, but I probably should.) But in general, I am proud of this body of work. It’s good work. Some of it is even great. 

In having my eating under control, I don’t have to have doubts about that pride. I don’t have to be falsely humble. I don’t have to ask you if you think it’s good work. I absolutely hope you do! I hope you love it and find it helpful! But I don’t need to know. I don’t need to ask. It’s really none of my business. And I don’t make it my concern.

You know that thing that happens, where someone takes a picture of you, and you think you look terrible at the time, but then you look at it years later and you realize that you looked good, you looked like yourself, not at all the weird troll you thought you looked like 5 minutes after the photo was taken? That is what it has felt like to look back at my words for the past decade. Oh! I was clever. I was wise. 

But it is also really special see the sparks of a change in thinking that would affect the trajectory of my life. All before I knew I was doing those things, thinking those thoughts, changing those patterns. All a record of the process of me becoming the most authentic person I can be. 

And I suppose it reminded me that I feel like I am in the middle of a change now that I don’t fully grasp. That it will only be in retrospect that I will understand what is going on right now with my body and my work life and my health. So perhaps in another ten years, I will look back at this period of time, and see the whole picture. And realize how cute I really was.

Coming around again (as long as I am not dead yet)

In my life, both before and after I got my eating under control, my weight has fluctuated. I have lost a significant amount of weight a few times. And a thing that happens every time is I have to figure out what to do about clothes. 

Over the past 4 months I have been losing a lot of weight relatively quickly. Right now, the only things that really fit me are some workout clothes and a pair of linen pants that I bought recently, and a handful of dresses I already had with elastic waist and/or top bands.

I don’t want to buy more clothes right now. I don’t want to spend the money until my body and I find some equilibrium and I can be relatively sure that they will fit me for more than a couple of weeks.

But also, it’s not fun to get dressed in clothes that don’t fit anymore. Even if they don’t fit because I am getting smaller. 

I loved my body in a U.S. size 14. I felt beautiful. I felt sexy and womanly and wonderful. I wasn’t self-conscious or embarrassed. I loved my food,  and my eating was under control. And I love clothes. So I had a lot of clothes that I loved that fit me. 

This weight loss was not planned and it is not really important to me. But it does have these very real consequences. And they can take up a ridiculous amount of space in my head. I can worry about the money and the timing. About whether I should get rid of my size 14s, or keep them in case I need them again in the future. About where to shop and what I want. About how to teach my Amazon account that I am no longer the size it thinks I am, so it can stop recommending everything too big. All while knowing that I am not even going to do anything about it for now anyway.

When I was eating compulsively, whether I was fat or not, I was constantly thinking about my body. CONSTANTLY! It was a program running in the background all the time. But since I got my eating under control, when my weight is stable, I don’t think about my body almost at all. All of my “body crazy“ goes dormant and I just sort of float through life content to be in my vessel. 

But when my body is changing it is on my mind almost as much as before. It’s not as traumatic, and not as dramatic, but it’s there and it’s intense. 

In my life I have a handful of recurring lessons. Things that I have to tackle and retackle, growing a little at a time. And one of them is learning to have a loving relationship with my body. So this too shall pass. And then come around again. And I suppose as long as I am not dead yet, around yet again.

The slow crawl to spectacular

I saw a pulmonologist this week and it could not have gone better.

A little over 2 months ago, I got sent for a lung function test. Afterwards, a doctor called me and told me that my lungs were fine and to stop taking the medication I had been taking. And I was upset. Because my lungs were very clearly not fine.

It was more of the same thing that I had always felt about doctors growing up. That nobody was listening to me. That the relationship was about power and submission. And that I was always the small one expected to submit. They were the doctors. They knew everything. I knew nothing.

But I was feeling panicked and crazy and scared. And I called a friend crying and she told me that she had to learn to advocate for herself with doctors. That it was a skill. And that I should figure out what I want for myself. Which is so not how I have ever thought about doctors.

So first, I took the doctor’s advice, knowing I already had a pulmonologist appointment, and I stopped taking the medication. And then I started taking notes on my lung function every day in my journal. And how often I had to take a different medication (fast acting instead of long lasting.) And then I psyched myself up to duke it out with this pulmonologist to get back on the medication that had been helping. Because no matter what that test said, there was something wrong!

But I walked in and he looked at my test results – the same ones from months ago when they told me my lungs were great – and he said I have a very specific kind of asthma. That the tests look great because I seem to be at the highest level of lung function, but that it’s misleading because actually, there is too much air in my lungs. I am getting air trapped in there and then breathing more air on top of it. And then he asked me how I felt being on the original medication and I told him “spectacular.” So he put me back on it. I didn’t even have to make the request. 

But wait. There’s more! He then told me that this particular kind of asthma often goes away on its own and that we will revisit it in 6 months, but there is a good chance that this too shall pass. 

Then he said I could take a blood test and they could see if I had certain markers for asthma. But I told him that I have a really hard time with blood tests and that if it was necessary I would but I would rather not. And he told me that it was not necessary at this point. So we wouldn’t do it.

Before I got my eating under control, life happened to me all the time. I was powerless. I was just dragged along. And I didn’t even realize that there was another way.

When I put boundaries around my eating, I got clarity. I got responsibility. I got the ability to ask for help. To learn a new way to do things. 

But also, I just want to note that it took 16 years of having my eating under control plus a health condition to actually go to the doctor. And the help and guidance of loved ones to begin to understand how to navigate that world. So I’m not saying it’s quick, I’m just saying it’s a slow crawl to “spectacular.”

Less bacon…but still a life beyond my wildest dreams

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

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

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

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

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

Ready to be of service

I have been reminded this week that if nothing changes then nothing changes. It’s a saying I heard a lot when I first got my eating under control. If I don’t do anything different, I won’t get different results or a different life. 

I spent much of my young life wishing things were different than they were, especially my body. I wanted to be thin and I was not. But also, I wanted to be thin, while I simultaneously wanted to eat whatever I wanted. And I wanted both of those things to be true at the same time. And any time I did lose weight, I was eating smaller quantities of the same foods, until I was thin enough, or just not invested enough anymore, to go back to eating the way I wanted to. Which led to me being fat and hating my body again.

But this was true for lots of aspects of my life. I used to be late a lot. If it should take me 20 minutes to get to work, I would leave the house 20 minutes before work. And I would only make it on time about 2/3 of the time. And even if I said I would try to be better, I didn’t really *do* anything different. I just got angrier at traffic or the subway or my job. Like the “trying” was just wishing harder to be on time.

But I eventually got my eating under control because I changed the way I ate. I stopped eating simple sugars and carbohydrates. I started weighing my food. I only ate 3 meals a day with nothing in between. And I only changed because other people had gone before me and told me that if I did what they did, I could have what they had. A body and a life that were different in their joy and freedom than I had ever experienced before. And they were right. I ate differently, I thought differently, I lived differently and I got a different life.

And lately I’ve been changing again because, again, I have been making changes. I have been going to the doctor after 20 years of avoiding it, and I am taking care of my health. I have changed my workout, so my body is changing. And I signed up for The Craft Yarn Council’s Certified Instructors Program to get certified to teach crochet. So I’m acquiring new skills and techniques and learning how to make my passion for making into a shareable product. 

And all of these changes, that already feel pretty big on their own, are combining to make me feel like maybe I am on the precipice of something even bigger. Perhaps something new and exciting that I haven’t even considered before. 

I don’t know what happens next. But I am kind of thrilled. I am ready to be surprised! I am ready to be tickled! But maybe most importantly I am ready to be of service.

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