onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “shame”

22 Mar 2026

Available for connection

Last night I went to a party with a dozen or so awesome ladies, about half new to me. And it was a delicious delight. (And I didn’t even eat the party food!)

There was so much laughter, candor, humor, insight, and love. There was a spirit of mutual respect and appreciation. There was the desire to support each other.

A few years ago I made the deliberate choice to cultivate my friendships. Especially with women. I felt like I had lost my connections to people who liked me, and whom I liked. Not for any other reason than grown up life doesn’t have a lot of built in structures for relationship that aren’t partner and kids. As an individual, one has to make it a priority. Or not as the case may be.

13 years ago, I moved away from my friends when I left New York City to be with my husband. And we were all already grownups. Navigating partnerships and parenting while we were in the same city was hard enough. From long distance, it takes even more. And I am inconsistent. And so are my long distance friends. This is not a judgement. It’s an observation. Life gets lifey fast and sudden.  

So when I noticed the lack of everyday friendships in my life, I took actions to change that. To reach out to old friends. To make new friends. To be an asset to communities. To find new people that I like, that like me back.

When I was heavy in my addiction and depression, I would isolate for long periods of time. I would hide away in my room and binge eat and avoid my friends. And then when I was better or lonely or ready to be back in the world, I would have to go mend the friendships I had harmed. And that made friendships feel like a kind of burden. And it made me feel bad about myself. And all of those feelings led me to want to isolate more, eat more, hate myself more. 

By keeping my food boundaries and bringing my own food to this party, I looked a little weird at first. But I got to be authentic and funny and fully present. And that is when I can be part of the community. That is where I can make a difference. Just by being there, available for connection. 

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15 Mar 2026

No Super For Me

I have been what I considered a little sick lately. But over a couple of doctor appointments these past couple of weeks, my doctors and I discussed the fact that I was much more sick than I thought, and also that I am not good at knowing when my lungs are constricted. I basically can’t tell when I can’t breathe.

Here is the deal. I am a person who pushes through. For as ashamed as I have been of my feelings of inadequacy and laziness, the honest-to-god truth is that if I decide to do something I will do it, even if I have to barrel down toward it at full speed.

I also come from a family of people who push through. I can think of at least one uncle who found out he had a heart attack months after the fact. The kind of people doctors say things to like “I can’t believe you walked in here in that much pain.”

But also also, I grew up fat in a fat family. 

When I was a kid I was bad at most kinds of exercise. But I was fat. So it was just assumed that I was out of shape. And I would continue to be bad at exercise my whole life, but in my 20s I pushed through as a form of bulimia to work off what I ate and be skinny. It did not make me skinny. And then in my mid 30s I started a perfectly reasonable workout routine. A slow 2 miles a day 5 days a week. But it was hard. And I eventually got better and faster. I pushed through. 

And then in my 40s, when I got adult onset asthma, I realized that I had had exercise induced asthma my whole life. That I may or may not have been out of shape. But I *couldn’t breathe* because I had asthma. And that could have been treated young if my fatness were not always a “concern.”

I taught myself how to ignore my body. I taught myself how to push through. And now I literally don’t know when I can’t breathe. 

And there is a part of me that doesn’t want to let that go! As if there is some sort of virtue in pushing through at the expense of my body and my life. Which I suppose I have been taught. If it can’t be beautiful at least it’s useful. As if I have to be either a superhero or a supermodel. Those are my only acceptable options. There is a part of me that says that it is that self-flagellation that is saving me.

From what? I don’t know.

I am not a superwoman. I do not want to be. I believe in knowing what and when to sacrifice. I believe there is a time to dig deep into myself to give more than I think I can. But that I don’t want my body to be the sacrificial lamb. I don’t want to view not respecting myself as a virtue. I want to give freely and authentically as a gift to others, not an abasement of myself.

As to the practical application of this, I guess I will find out as I go…?

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08 Mar 2026

I got the promoted phlebotomist blues

I hate blood tests. Hate is not a strong enough word. I have been traumatized by blood tests. And the only phlebotomist I have been willing to sit for in the past over 20 years has moved up in the world. I am overjoyed for her. I am sad for me. 

My asthma doctor, located in the town where my house is, asked if I could move up my appointment to this week, and I already owed my primary doc a fasting blood test for my appointment next week. And the particular phlebotomist that I always went to was in the same area. Perfect.

So at 6 in the morning I drove an hour and a half on an empty stomach, and uncaffeinated to the lab to find out 1) it is no longer a walk in lab and 2) my blood test savior no longer works there. 

I texted my primary doctor and said sorry, I can’t do it in time. I don’t feel bad about it. I will drive another hour and half next week for that doctor appointment without having had a blood test.

I get to decide what I regret.

I don’t regret anything to do with that experience. Not driving an hour and a half on an empty stomach. Not failing to get a blood test anyway. Not learning about the lab or phlebotomist. Not saying “no” to finding a walk-in clinic that would have me taking my chances on a random phlebotomist. 

When I am doing the best for myself, the true best for me, as I decide it, I am never sorry. It feels good. But to know what is best for me, requires knowing myself, my own mind, my own heart. And actually listening. 

By driving an hour and a half on an empty stomach I was telling MYSELF that I am willing to get a blood test. That in spite of a long history of medical industry aversion, I am willing to do all of the things that need to get done to take care of myself. But when I said no to going in blind to a new phlebotomist just so I could get a lab done, I also did *that* with my own best interests in mind. My comfort, my wellbeing. That is also best for me.

Some people would disagree.

I don’t care.

I now KNOW what it looks like to get my blood taken by someone who makes me feel safe, who cares whether or not they are hurting me or harming me. I know what it looks like when someone can do the job even when the job is difficult. I have difficult veins. If you are bad at a difficult job, that is my skin on the line. Literally. I do not regret caring about my own feelings and my own pain.

There was absolutely a time when I would have been FURIOUS about every aspect of the situation! Furious at who? At the lab? At God? At anyone unlucky enough to be near? And I would NOT have been happy for my phlebotomist. I would have only been angry at her for not being available to be of use to me. (Shout out, Lisa!!! You were integral in changing my medical industry experience and I am forever grateful! I wish you all the promotions!!!) 

But the real reason I would have been furious is because it could have given me a bunch of yucky feelings about myself. About not complying with my doctor. About sliding back to not being able to go to the doctor out of resentment and fear again after years of regular visits. Or worse, I would have felt like I MUST get that test because I put myself through all of that hassle to get there without eating breakfast and my doctor’s appointment is this coming week. And I would have gone and would have blamed everyone else for making me get a blood test that hurt me and bruised me and made me have a panic attack.

As if I didn’t have the option to just say no.

I am going to figure out what to do about future blood tests. I can probably do some research. Maybe? I found Lisa because after I refused to take the test 3 times, they brought me to her and said “this woman has a gift. You will be okay.” And SHE promised that if she didn’t get me with just one stick, she’d just take it out and I could go. She got me in just one stick that time, and every time every six months for a few years now.

She has a gift. I know she’s not the only one. I figure as long as I am willing to do what is best for me, I will figure out how to get my blood drawn.

But I don’t have to have feelings about it. I don’t have to be ashamed of failing my doctor. I don’t have to be angry I have to find a new person to draw my blood. I don’t have to be afraid of having a bunch of terrible blood test experiences. 

Also I literally went 20 years without going to the doctor. I think this 6 months without one blood test will be fine. 

I only know my own mind because I have two decades of the mental and emotional clarity that comes from putting my drug foods down. Every day I don’t eat compulsively is a little more of my authentic self uncovered. And it really isn’t who I thought I would be. 

It’s definitely better. 

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11 Jan 2026

A 20 year wish come true

I had my photo shoot for that magazine this week and one thing it reminded me of is how comfortable I am in my body. Just really IN it, as opposed to trying to see what others see and judge as I think they are judging. Which was my experience the first 28 years of my life.

The photographer sent me a pic for myself to keep that will not be used in the magazine, and you can see the outline of my belly in my clothes. Not my favorite, but not emotionally devastating.

But when I was posing, I was not thinking about my belly. Or my chins. Or my arms. I was not thinking about anything but following directions. Or maybe that I am pretty. And when it was done I sent that picture with the belly to a couple of people. Because I did not feel the need to hide it or hate it. (Ok I didn’t and wouldn’t send it to everyone…a girl still needs to know her audience and hold her boundaries.) But I did not hate my body for having a belly. And that is a miracle. 

When I got my eating under control, I had been volunteering in a self help seminar, and the leader asked me what I wanted to get out of the seminar. And I said “for my body to stop being an issue.” And literally 20 years later I live every day in a body that is not an issue.

The problem when I was eating compulsively was that I made my body my enemy for a long time. I didn’t give it what it needed and I expected it to give me what I wanted. And instead it gave me what I needed. And I was ungrateful. 

Food saved me when I needed it. I could not manage my feelings and emotions as a small child. I really thought they might kill me. That is not an exaggeration. I was terrified of not being capable of living with so much pain. And food got me through. Right up until it started to kill me. 

Now I give my body what it needs. Not as an ultimatum. Not like training an animal. Like nurturing a plant. Water and light. Exercise for strength and mobility. Good food for both energy and pleasure. Rest. Learning.

No where in there is anything about my weight. I am perfectly comfortable in this body. Happy to make it bigger with muscles. Not worried about making it bigger with fat. 

So I am grateful to have the shoot over and done. It was more thinking about my body than I like. But I am even more grateful that I got to experience myself just being, even when the focus *was* on my body.

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21 Dec 2025

The least interesting thing about the whole thing

I have been thinking about my body a lot lately. Because people are probably coming to take my photo for a magazine. It is to accompany an article about a book that talks about addictive eating. And I am an example of someone who successfully changed my eating lifestyle. 

Right around the time I had just turned 28, I was doing a self help seminar and the instructor asked me what I wanted to get out of it. And my answer was “for my body to stop being an issue.” 

By the end of that seminar I was no longer eating sugar and grains and I was weighing and measuring my food. My body didn’t stop being an issue at that very moment, but it was the first step in a long and continuing journey. And it worked. 

In getting my eating under control I started to think of my body as myself. I started to think of my body as a wonderful vessel that provided all of my abilities! I started to think of my body as sacred and undeserving of being judged. ESPECIALLY for its size and shape and “perceived beauty.” I started this blog to really start to dismantle all of the ways I lived small. And hating my body was one of my biggest obstacles.

The way I think about my body and my weight has slowly but entirely shifted in the past almost 20 years. But here is a situation where it is in someone else’s best interest to “show off” my body in a certain way. In a certain light.

And it’s making me feel insecure. What if I don’t look thin enough? What if I don’t impress everyone the way this magazine wants me to?

Which makes me a little mad at myself. And a little ashamed. Because I don’t want to feel insecure about my amazing body. And I don’t want to reduce getting my eating under control to “weight loss.” Because losing weight is the least important or interesting thing about getting control of my sugar addiction.

But I also know that I only started to get my eating under control because I wanted to stop hating my body. And what I hated at the time was being fat. And I don’t think I could have found myself all the way over here honoring all bodies and dismantling my anti-fatness if I hadn’t been desperate to stop being fat.

What I have been reminding myself is that I am not selling anything. And that I am not invested in having my picture in a magazine. But I am VERY invested in sharing the message that if you can’t stop eating and it’s making you miserable, there is a solution. 

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14 Dec 2025

An almost 20 year head start

I got my eating under control at 28. And that is a miracle. For me. But also, it’s not common. 

Most people (definitely not all) who come into food recovery are women. And most women come in about my age now. I’m 48. Essentially, when their hormones are changing. And when that need to please is greatly reduced.

I heard a woman say that society calls menopause “The Change” because that’s what it is for men. Their wives and mothers change. The women they relied on for everything are no longer as reliable, and some of the wives just LEAVE! (Can you imagine????) 

The older I get, and the less “reliable” my body gets, the MORE reliable my heart and soul and passion are. The more creative I am. The more proud I am of the time I spend learning and making and the product of my work. The more inspired and excited I am.

And I have all of this because in January of 2006 I decided that my sugar addiction had such a hold on me, that it would be better to give up all of my joy (I really thought that food was my only joy) than to live the rest of my life with the compulsion to eat and all of the shame that came with it.

A thing I hear a lot now is “I love your energy.” And they are right! I have great energy. I know I do because I WORK at it. And it’s a product of a lot of things that most people don’t actually like when it’s happening to them. 

You love my energy? I say NO to things that drain my energy. I limit my interactions with negativity and greed. I limit my interactions with drama. Even if I like you. Even if I love you. I say NO! I protect myself first, my family second, my friends third. 

And all of this is cumulative. I am just weeks shy of 20 years of taking care of my eating and letting that be the first step in taking care of the rest of my life. All of the rest of my life. So I have an almost 20 year head start of loving my body, of choosing my own peace and my own path, of living without resentment for the way I failed to measure up to someone else’s standards. An almost 20 year head start on so many women addicted to food, to sugar, to the idea of a perfect woman and the perfect body, or at least a “better body” that someone wants to sell us all. And I refuse to take that for granted. 

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26 Oct 2025

Being just to be with another being

One thing I have noticed since getting my kitten, Harlow, is that she pulls me back to the present all the time. Which alerts me to the fact that I am not in the present a lot of the time. 

There are some things that I have learned over the past 19+ years of having my eating under control that go against the modern conventional wisdom. Like that I should be eating to live not living to eat. If a food program is going to be sustainable for me, I am going to have to be obsessed with the food. Or that the goal in life is to be present all the time. I am an artist and a creative. I do my best work in my fantasy world. Literally. 

But there is something that I don’t get in my daydream world. And that is peace. And Harlow brings me peace. A new kind of peace that I don’t have a lot of experience with. Being just to be with another being. 

Sometimes it is too much peace. I have literally never in my life slept so much in the day by accident. And I am not a good napper. I just wake up tired and disoriented and then have to make dinner…

Don’t get me wrong. I have a lot of worries and anxiety about her. Doing accidental harm is my biggest personal fear. But the relationship is easy. And being in the moment with her is easy. And that brings me a lot of peace in my everyday.

The other thing I have to remind myself of is that she has been so easy that I expect her to be easy about everything. And that makes me nervous to do things she won’t like. But we are both still capable. For example, she hasn’t  taken to harness training the way she has to all of the other things, like car rides and exploring 2 houses. And I have to actually do the work like I would have to with a cat with a difficult personality. 

And honestly. The worst she does is give me the side eye! She doesn’t even cry! So I am just that spoiled! 

I have lived my life for myself. And I have zero shame or regrets. It kept me from taking on responsibilities I didn’t want. It means I have a life I love that I chose for myself. But there is something special that I have never had before BECAUSE I didn’t want responsibility for another life. That I am now so grateful to have. 

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21 Sep 2025

From out of my mind to into my own

As a sugar addict in recovery I have a person I call every day and tell her what I am going to eat for the day. I “commit my food” to her. And there are people who call me every day. And they commit their food to me. 

Well my friend is on a road trip and it’s hard to coordinate times so I’m committing to another friend in the program. And this friend and I had a miscommunication. 

As with all communities, there are little cliques and divisions within the group. Like orthodox vs reform. Because *for the most part* we all do all the same things. But some people do some things just a little bit differently. And within these little groups there is often a line between *how different* people can be comfortable with. 

Well I committed my food and she heard something different than what I meant. And it was a little too different for her to be comfortable taking my food commitment. 

But this is the point. She came to me so generously. She pointed out her issues. She even spoke to her friend in the community before she responded to me. And she asked that I either commit to her within her comfort zone, or find another person to temporarily commit to. And then, when I understood that there was as miscommunication, I apologized for my confusing language and asked if the communication was the issue. Or if she still needed me to make any changes or find another friend to commit to. And she was so happy to say that it was just a matter of phrasing that had confused her and that all was well. 

It was so loving. It was without drama. It was two people who genuinely like each other coming together authentically to solve a relationship issue. 

I got even the ability to do that from getting my eating under control. I have friends like that because we are all growing and shifting, some also specifically by not drugging ourselves with sugar. Building up our self respect so we can go into our relationships liking ourselves enough to be peaceful. Peaceful enough to be generous. 

I spent the first 28 years of my life terrified of being caught on the wrong side. Of anything. To be wrong felt shameful. And when I was ashamed I lashed out. I got angry first. I doubled down! I would go out of my mind doing mental gymnastics to spin a situation so that I was right. I was filled with more misplaced pride than properly placed honor. 

But in having put the sugar and simple carbs down and come into my own, truly my own peace and joy and contentment, I don’t have to cling to the things that don’t work for me. I don’t have to be right. I don’t have to be ashamed of being wrong. I don’t have to be anything. And that makes me want to keep my eating under control. 

Also, for those only here for the kitten updates, Harlow continues to be the sweetest baby in the whole entire world. She is full of piss and vinegar and when we play she loves to do all the weird stereotypical things black cats do. The arched back, the sideways walk, the twinkle toes. She’s perfect and hilarious. 

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27 Jul 2025

Maybe leave us out of it?

Sometimes I am really confronted with how much work I have done on my internalized fat phobia, and how much the default response of most people to fatness or things related to fatness, is disgust and judgement.

On Facebook the other day I saw a woman I used to go to school with posting about her daughter’s difficulties since being diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. That is not the thing that hit me. That sucks and I wish her and her daughter the best.

It’s how she went ON AND ON about how it was not her daughter’s fault. Because type 1 is not the one where it’s your fault. My issue being the idea that type 2 is your fault? She explained over and over about how she and her daughter are following a diet based on her doctor’s recommendations and watch her food and she’s a healthy eater and they are doing all the right things.

Here’s the deal. I understand that this is a woman who has only had to deal with fat phobia as it applies to every woman in the Western world, which is admittedly no small thing, but therefore has never had to dismantle the structures in it. And she is a societally attractive woman. So she has most certainly experienced privilege based on her beauty. Which is not a slight. Just a truth. I like her. She’s a nice lady.

But fuck did it hurt my feelings to hear her try to insist her daughter is one of the worthy ones, instead of inherently understanding that every one of us is worthy. Even if we have eating disorders. Even if our bodies are not the standard. Even if we are hugely fat! Yes! Even then!

Fatness is not always an addiction. I didn’t understand that until I had my eating under control. There are plenty of happy, healthy fat people. People who love their lives and their bodies and are simply fat.

I was not one of those people. I was an addict. I wanted to stop and I could not. And even though I did it to lose weight, I KEEP my eating under control because it makes my life better. But it doesn’t always keep me thin. I have been very thin but I have also been quite chubby.

It turns out thinness is not as predictable for me as common lore would have you believe. Calories in calories out is not actually the way it works. Not for me, anyway.

But even if it is clear that a person is fat, and an addict, and miserable, and not doing the “right things,” do they really deserve to suffer and die?

There are plenty who will say yes. And I think it’s quite possible I would have been one when I was in the food and miserable and a self-hating fat phobe. Because I used to believe one had to earn their place in the world. But now that is not true of me. 

I guess I will wrap it up with this thought. Sometimes the only way to change is to think you are worth it. And when you tell people they are not worth it, you are just slowing the process of the thing you think should happen. 

Also, maybe mind your own business. You can talk about Type 1 diabetes without bringing Type 2 into it…

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15 Jun 2025

Get in line

I saw a video on social media this week that I have been thinking about. It was about how to spot and stop manipulators. But the point was that the hardest person to manipulate is the one who is in alignment with themselves.

The person who knows what they want, what they stand for, what they want to achieve and create, and who they want to be in the world, isn’t going to be swayed by anything other than something even more in alignment with their heart and head. 

I spend a lot of time worrying I’m doing life wrong. And will probably never entirely grow out of it. But this was a nice little reminder for me. 

Because getting my eating under control is how I learned to listen to myself. I had so much noise in my head when I was eating compulsively. Most of it was about food and eating and craving, but it was also about shame. What I did wrong. What I failed to do. How I was lacking. How I was broken. How I was ugly and wrong.

When I was in the food, I could not see what I wanted. And if I thought I could, but the world didn’t agree, I assumed I was wrong, not the world. 

But here’s the thing. The world often doesn’t agree with me. I’m not particularly interested in its conventions. And once I made friends with that, it was easier to be authentic. After all, the world doesn’t really want me to quit sugar and grains. It upsets a whole group. People who have zero stake in my eating have had all sorts of opinions about it. Strangers! And there is a whole ultra specific group that thinks that what I do is not only useless but harmful. People on the internet insisting that sugar addiction isn’t a thing. That it is about food morality. That I am a fatphobe monster because I assert that I have a problem with sugar and that sugar can be addictive. 

Look. Just to clarify, I don’t think every fat person is an addict. I don’t care if a person is fat. I don’t think fat people need to lose weight. I don’t think that anyone owes anyone else any explanations of their food or their body.

But I was getting drunk on sugar from childhood and it was ruining my life. And want to help a compulsive eater and sugar addict who still suffers. (P.S. Not all sugar addicts are fat. I want to help them too.)

But that is part of how getting my eating under control helped me align myself and my principles and my past. It was only in putting boundaries around my eating that I could separate my fatness from my addiction. Come to love my body in all its iterations. To feed it nourishing foods. And not worry about health or weight. Just worry about not doing my drug foods. Just worry about not using. Take the morality *out* of food.

And every time I make a choice that makes people who are not me look at me funny, I remember who I am, what I want, what I want to create and what legacy I am leaving. And I have enough clarity of mind and purpose to actually know the answer. And all of that is the culmination of 19 1/2 years of keeping boundaries around my eating. 

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