onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “integrity”

26 Mar 2023

Rest and work

This week has been a bit of a whirlwind. We got told that my husband’s company is moving us back home. To my own fancy kitchen. And back yard.  In less than 2 weeks. In time for spring. I’m pretty happy. But it is going to be a lot of work I wasn’t expecting for another half year.

The first few days after we got the news left me a little stupid and distracted. I couldn’t focus on much. And I had a hard time getting things done.

But that is a thing I learned from getting my eating under control. That I don’t always have control over the ways I think or feel. And that those things can have an effect on the practical aspects of my day. And that it is totally normal to have days when I am less productive and effective.

I used to have a lot of judgement about what I was doing or what I was not doing. What I should have been doing or been able to do. I thought I should be like a machine. And usually all that pressure led me to break down, like a machine, and left me unable to do anything.

This week I had a lot of room for myself to be scatterbrained. And I spent the times I could get my head straight making a list of the things I am going to have to do this week to pack and clean and tie up all of our loose ends.

I never stop taking care of my food. It is my first priority every day. And thankfully, after 17 years, it is more ingrained as a habit than anything else in my life. And as long as I keep my eating under control, I have a chance of getting my head back in order and getting back to my normal, efficient self. 

When I first got my eating under control was when I first had people tell me to do less. To rest. To put on my bedroom slippers and make myself comfortable. That is was normal both to need a break and to take one. And being told it was OK to rest was how I learned how to work.

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19 Mar 2023

Change takes change

There is a sentiment that I have heard many times from women who are already married or in a relationship when they get their eating under control. Their spouses say things like “I just wanted you to lose weight. I didn’t want you to change.”

When I first got my eating under control I had a kind of revelation. That if I was going to change the way I ate, I was going to have to change the way I ate. But also it meant I had to change other things about how I went through my day. Because eating was a major part of my day-to-day life.

Before that, I had wanted to change my body. And I was only vaguely aware of the fact that it had something to do with my eating. (Sugar is a hell of a drug.) But I didn’t want to change anything significant. It didn’t occur to me that success in arresting my compulsive eating meant I had to change anything except to do the few very specific things it took to “keep to a diet.” And I somehow expected it to work. 

Except that I didn’t. I always knew, and always FELT deep in me, that whatever diet I was on would not work. Wouldn’t work for me, at any rate. 

And I was right. Because there was no endgame. I was eating to get thin enough that I could eat the way I wanted to without judgement. But I did not want to stop eating. I simply wanted to avoid the consequences of it. 

I certainly could not have put that into words until I got my eating under control, but ultimately that was what it was. Because what I did NOT want to do was give up sugar.

What I really learned early on in recovery was that in order to make a real and lasting change in my eating and my body, I had to make other lasting changes. And in many ways, the things I had to do to get my eating under control made that part easy. It meant I had to go to the grocery store. I had to schedule that into my week. I had to cook meals within my boundaries. I had to figure out how to do that and still get to work on time. And I had to figure out how to get to meetings and talk to other people recovering from their own food addiction. I had to make time and put in effort. All of those things changed the shape of my days. And changing my schedule was the perfect way to change my actions and my results.

To change my life and get something different from what I have had, I have always had to change my life in practice. To take new and different actions and approaches. To behave differently. And it has always been worth it.

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12 Mar 2023
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The thing that is killing me quickest

In the past 17 years since I got my sugar addiction and eating disorders under control I realized that a lot of people come to recovery wanting to change everything about their lives now. Right now! And I heard people with a lot of time in recovery say “for now, just quit the one thing that is killing you quickest.”


And that was amazing advice. I smoked for the first 6 or 7 years of having my eating under control. Because eating compulsively was definitely killing me quickest. (Physically? Who knows. But personally, emotionally, mentally and spiritually? Absolutely.)


I could only quit cigarettes because I had already gotten my eating taken care of to the point that I wasn’t afraid of the food anymore.


Well, this week I went to a doc-in-a-box because I was running out of the rescue inhaler I have been using for the last three months. And the very nice doctor (or nurse practitioner? Whatever) said that using a rescue inhaler every day is an issue. So she prescribed me a maintenance inhaler. And she told me that I need to get a primary doctor. That whatever I have is not something that she can diagnose. And that it is a big deal.


So apparently the thing that is killing me quickest currently is my fear of doctors.

I have trauma around doctors and medical professionals. You know that thing that Maya Angelou said? “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” The culture of doctors and healthcare providers has always made me feel shamed, unworthy, and unwelcome. And while I was stressing over whether or not a doctor would refill my rescue inhaler prescription, I realized that I am afraid that I have to “deserve” healthcare. By being a good girl. By taking care of myself perfectly. By being worthy of a doctor’s time and attention.


Because when I was fat, I was always made to feel that I *didn’t* deserve to be taken care of. Because if I really cared about myself I would not have been fat. And if I didn’t care enough to stop eating, I didn’t deserve care from others. This is the way it is for a lot of fat people. And many of them have not had the privilege I have of being relatively healthy. I have not needed a doctor in the past 25 years. But I am 45 now. And apparently have some sort of lung issues. And I have to take some actions to find a doctor to be *my* doctor.


Just the thought makes me very emotional. And very afraid. But I am not a fool. And I do know that this is the thing that is killing me quickest. So just like any other thing I know is not serving my needs, I will change it. Slowly I don’t doubt. And imperfectly I am sure. But I will change it. One day at a time. One step at a time.

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26 Feb 2023

Commitment and follow through >>>

One of the ways I have created a life I enjoy is through the liberal use of benchmarks and bare minimums. There are things that I do daily or weekly as means of self care, and I do them because I do them and not because I like to. Not even because I like the results. (Though I do like the results of my commitments.)

I never feel like exercising. Ok. That is not entirely true. About twice a year, I really look forward to it. That leaves another approximately 258 days a year in which I know I should work out, for my physical health, my mental state and my spiritual life, but still really really REALLY don’t want to. (Ok, that last REALLY is probably a little bit overboard, but just a little.)

This past week I had a hard time getting myself to exercise. I did it, but I started later than usual because I was unmotivated. My ass was draggin’, if you will. And it took days to realize that it’s because I’m a little sick. (I swear! I have been sick more in the past year than I have in the past 20.) Nothing crazy. Not covid. And not bad at all. The kind of sick that pre-2020, I would have easily gone into work with. The kind that barely phases a person. 

But it made me deflate at the idea of working out. And then *that* made me feel bad. It made me feel like I was wasting my time. That two weeks ago I was done before 9:30 in the morning and here it was, after 10 and I was still not moving.

So I started to remind myself this week, that it is a matter of my priorities. And that I don’t have to do things perfectly. 

My acts of self care are a priority. But I can be hard on myself for the way I feel about it. Or I can get caught up in the “right way” to do those things. Or I can be upset about not doing them as early or as quickly or as enthusiastically as I can, or did yesterday, or feel like I should. 

These kinds of feelings used to take me out. Exercise was an hour later than yesterday? Might as well not do it at all. I didn’t drink all my water before noon? Do I really care about drinking water? I didn’t do my writing meditation yet? Is it really doing anything for me anyway?

My life is made better by my “practices.” The things I do because I do them. Not because I’m looking for results. The irony, of course, is that doing things as a practice rather than with an eye towards results is the best way for me to get actual results.

I am remembering today to be kind to myself. That I do the things I do because the act doing makes my life better. Because the commitment and the follow through are creating results, whether or not the workout itself is.

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19 Feb 2023

Risky Business

I am a person who can, and does, eat the same thing every day. There are parts of my dinner that I have literally eaten every day for over a decade and a half.

For me, it is more important to know I am going to love my food than it is to have variety. 

But my husband…not so much. (Poor husband…) So we have been trying new dishes for dinner. And at least the roasted lemon chicken is a success. (We are giving the pork tacos another shot this coming week on Taco Tuesday!)

But it is a whole mental gymnastics routine for me to prepare for something new. Because I have a literal fear of a bad meal. Hell, I don’t even like it when my meal is mediocre! 

I spent my life before my eating boundaries worried that there would not be enough food. And in many ways, there wasn’t enough to satisfy me. I mostly ate sugar and carbs, which set up a craving for more of the same, so no matter how much I ate, I still wanted more.

So when I started weighing my food, knowing there would be a limited amount every day, I became much more devoted to making every bite as delicious as I could possibly make it. And that had served me well.

But when one of the most important things in my life became to eat delicious food inside my boundaries, I got rather risk averse. (Hence the whole eating the same thing every day schtick.)

But I set those worries aside and tried some new meals and they absolutely paid off. And the truth is, even if they hadn’t and one or more new recipe turned out to be a dud, there is always another meal coming. So if dinner was meh, I just have to make sure breakfast is spectacular!

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29 Jan 2023

Mad, but not at me or my integrity

Years and years ago, before I got my eating under control, I used to occasionally do “The Artist’s Way” which is a creativity workbook. I did not know it at the time but it is based on the 12 steps. And part of doing the “program” (for lack of a better term) is to write 3 pages of handwritten stream of consciousness every morning. The woman who created it called them “morning pages.” And they are based on the practice of prayer and meditation that is a big part of the 12 steps.

So when I was still eating compulsively, I was doing this workbook. And I hated morning pages. They made me frustrated and angry. And there were whole days in a row that I would literally just write “I don’t want to do this” over and over for 3 pages. 

I certainly didn’t understand it at the time, but I was angry because there were so many things on my conscience that I had shoved down so I didn’t have to look at them. And the writing was trying to bring them to the surface. To be healed. To be dealt with. To be put to rest. 

But putting them to rest meant I would have to acknowledge them. And my part in them. And the ways that I was behaving that left me ashamed. And while I was still in the food, I was never going to be able to deal with my shame.

For the last several years I have been struggling to pray and meditate. I have been angry at life. I have been so afraid for so long that it just sort of lives inside me now. My constant low level anxiety ramping up into a constant mid level anxiety. And the basis of my belief system, that Life is always right and always giving me exactly what I need, suddenly seemed untrue. Not just untrue. Like bullshit.

So I stopped praying and meditating. But that wasn’t really working for me either. I did try to get back to the happy, daily meditation I had been doing for years. And it never worked. That old routine was broken for me now and it was not going to get fixed.

But I did still want to get back into some sort of meditation practice. So I went back to “morning pages.” And it has been a great opportunity for me to clear my head. And get a good look at the things that are not clear while they are rattling around in my brain. 

But here is what I have noticed. There is no anger. There is no frustration. The past 17 years of having my eating under control, and looking at my life, and making amends for my mistakes, and owning the harm I have done, means that there is nothing in my head or heart that I can’t look at. There is nothing shoved down so I don’t have to deal with it. And if there is something that makes me uncomfortable or gives me that sense of dread, I know to look directly at it. To put it down on the page. To put the idea into words and deal with the reality of the situation.

I don’t remember what it was like to be filled with shameful secrets most of the time now. I don’t generally remember how it felt; all of the thick, slimy, suffocating feelings that went with being a person I could not like or respect. But when I do remember now, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my freedom from self hatred.

I may still be angry. And I may still be frustrated. And I am still very much afraid. But having those feelings project out, at an unfair and cruel world, is so much easier than having them project inward, at me and my own integrity.

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15 Jan 2023

Avoiding the pit of despair (and carbs)

First, for those of you who are dying to know, I did finish my character doll in time to gift it to the author. I didn’t get to give it to her directly, per either her own or the book store’s policy, but the doll turned out better than I expected and I was sorry to give her away. So sorry that all this week in my free time, I have been working on a smaller version for myself. (She’s a particular shade of blue -like the grey blue of hydrangeas – and I didn’t have enough yarn to make another one the same size.)

I am proud. Proud of the doll. Proud of my progress as a crafter and an artist. Proud of my accomplishments but also of my work, my willingness to work, and my willingness to undo the work that doesn’t work.

In getting my eating under control I had to learn to live my life differently, and to view my life from a different perspective. Because when I was eating compulsively, my life revolved around my feelings and my feelings were volatile and always leaned towards discontent. So when I wanted to make something – and I did. I was an artist from a young age – I was only interested in the completed work, not the process. And I was obsessed with time. Or at least I was obsessed with the time I had already spent. So if I spent time on something and it came out wrong, I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to spend even more time “fixing” what I “should have done right the first time.” So I either had a thing I didn’t like, or I gave up in frustration.

In getting my eating under control I leaned to deal with difficult feelings. First hunger. I learned to be hungry and not eat. I learned that hunger, at least the kind that I was experiencing, would not kill me. (I am not talking about real hunger. I am not talking about food insecurity. I am talking about having feelings that were uncomfortable and the desire to eat my drug foods to numb those feelings.) And then frustration. And then the shame of failure.

And what I learned by feeing these difficult feelings and not eating over them is that on the other side, if I don’t numb myself, there is a choice to be made. Do I leave the mistake or do I go back and fix it? Because suddenly there was a choice. And to make it, whatever I chose, made me understand how I controlled my own life.

Of course I had always controlled my own life. But I didn’t know that. And I didn’t have the capacity to figure it out. Because I was constantly shoving those feelings down and burying them under a belly full of chocolate cake.

When I put boundaries around my eating I gave myself the opportunity to learn and grow. I did not know that I was lacking it before. Because I was smart. I was capable. I was a quick learner. But none of these things were worth anything when a stumble landed me face first in a pit of despair and carbs.

Don’t worry. Tomorrow I will be dissatisfied with my doll making skills again. In fact, I already am. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I am still proud of the work I have done. I just want to be better. Whatever that takes.

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08 Jan 2023

The joy of integrity

This might surprise you, but I can be an over thinker. (I know. You’re shocked.) And when I want to make a thing, especially a doll, I can spend days, or in some cases even weeks, thinking about the technicalities of a project. The plan. The design. The math. The techniques.

Well today I am going with a good friend to meet an author we both love. She had a new book come out this past week. And I devoured it in less than 2 days. (It could have been one, but it turns out my husband sometimes needs me to interact with him.) And I became obsessed with the main character. And I decided I needed to make a doll of her. For the author. Who I would be seeing in less than a week. So there was no time to plan for weeks. I had to just dive in. I decided there was nothing to do except start and keep going.

And wouldn’t you know that I worked faster, more efficiently, and just plain better than I ever have before. Ok, I am going to have to finish her hair and crochet her a dress all in about 5 hours. Can I do that? Who knows! But even with all of my meals and the regular life I have had to live, including cooking and packing for this trip back to the suburbs of Chicago, I have still managed to create a really cool thing in 4 days.

I do understand that this point I am at is a culmination of all of the work I have done up until now. All that over thinking, and all the patterns I followed, and all of the failed attempts at making my own patterns. I could not have simply jumped in like this 2 years ago. I didn’t have the legs to stand on. And I only have the legs to stand now because I have my eating under control.

It gives me the head space to learn, to build on techniques, to grow as a crafter and an artist. And it gives me the practical tools I need to keep me doing the things I need to get done outside of my art. Like eating my portion controlled meals, keeping my kitchen clean, and the laundry done, and the groceries bought. Like writing this blog even though I just want to make the dress already!

So I am going to eat my breakfast and then get back to it. Because my eating boundaries are my first priority. But making something I love and am proud of is the joy that comes from my integrity.

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01 Jan 2023

Nothing To Resolve Today

It is January first. And I have nothing to resolve. 

One of my favorite things about having my eating under control is that I don’t have to wait for a certain day or date to change. 

Don’t get me wrong. I often do. I put boundaries around my eating on January 2nd. (Tomorrow will be 17 years!) And my first day as a non-smoker was my 35th birthday. (Ten years ago already.)

But the deal is that I don’t need to wait for a date or a circumstance or a sign to make a change. I just need to be fed up enough with my current reality to do something about it. And that really came from getting my eating under control. 

So I don’t have any resolutions for 2023 except the one I always have. Act in a way that makes me like myself more, not less. Have integrity. Do what I say I’m going to do. Be where I say I’m going to be. Tell the truth.

And all of these things became possible when l was telling the truth about food. When I was keeping my promises to eat only what I committed to a loving friend who would hold me accountable with love and without judgement.

This integrity opened me up to have more time, more energy, more creativity, more peace. So I have nothing to resolve. Except to keep growing. Which I can do any day. Not just the first day of the first month of a new year.

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25 Dec 2022

16 Christmas Miracles

Today is my 16th Christmas in a row with my eating under control. 

I put boundaries around my eating on January 2, 2006. (I’m not an “I’ll start tomorrow” kind of girl. I’m an “I’ll start next year” type.) And since then I have honored those boundaries. Every day. Every birthday, every Christmas, every disappointment, every personal victory, every mundane Tuesday. Just all the time. And for the most part, the regular old days are easy.

I’m not saying holidays are particularly hard. At least not now, 16 years, 11 months and 3 weeks in. But they are still a lot. Family and relationships and gatherings and emotions running high. Mine and everyone else’s. And for 16 Christmases I have not eaten compulsively. So I plan to get through today with my eating boundaries intact. I mean I have an actual plan. I have breakfast down, I have made arrangements for lunch at my mom’s house, and I know what is for dinner and it’s in the fridge. So by my count, that is 16 Christmas miracles.

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