onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “sugar addict”

Is this growth? (Probably not but it is different.)

I have been rationing Sweet n Low since yesterday when I realized that I didn’t have any more in the house than what was on my counter (unheard of, frankly) and I didn’t want to leave the house to go get more. In fact I don’t want to leave the house until tomorrow. So I divided it up and I have been using it wisely. 

I need you to know that when I was in the food I absolutely would have left the house in the middle of a blizzard on foot to get ice cream. And maybe even have eaten all or most of it on the way home. So I probably got a lot more than just ice cream.

But now I keep my eating boundaries the way I chased sugar. So if I think I need some artificial sweetener or I don’t know what I am going to do, you’re damn right I am going to get me some artificial sweetener. 

But today, 19 years into having my eating under control, I can just ration out my artificial sweetener. I don’t need to go out in a blizzard, or even just when I don’t want to, to get my pacifier. I can manage.

If you think I am going to be ashamed or embarrassed by my “pacifier,” please think again. I do whatever it takes to keep my sugar addiction under control. And almost 2 decades of being in control doesn’t make me less of an addict, it just makes it harder to remember how desperate I was at 28, not being able to stop eating, and doing all sorts of awful things to my body to try to keep my weight down. 

But it feels kind of good to not NEED to leave the house. And honestly, I have not felt deprived using less. Perhaps I planted a seed for myself. To cut down (someday), or even let it go (eventually.) 

But not today.

Trusting Life to be exactly what I need

I’m feeling creative again. I’ve been trying new makes. And I made a short instructional video on “reading your knitting” for someone on social media. Lots of ideas and thoughts swishing around with no idea what I will settle on. Some trials and errors. Mostly imaginings and daydreams with a few shots at different fibers and sizes.

For a few weeks I was out of ideas. Not in a bad way. I was just creatively exhausted. I did some mindless knitting. Listened to my audiobooks. Went for a walk. Watched some videos on crochet and embroidery techniques. 

Having my eating under control let me create a life for myself where I don’t have to worry about if I am doing enough. Because all I have to do is keep my sugar addiction and compulsive eating under control. If I can do that then it was a successful day. And as long as I am not craving drug foods, I have a shot at doing something meaningful to me tomorrow. Or the next day. 

Keeping my eating under control is me taking the very best care of myself. Everything on top of that is a blessing. And the longer I keep my addiction under wraps, the more I am able to do big, beautiful things above and beyond keeping my eating boundaries.

I used to always wonder if I was doing enough. And the answer was always that unless I was working myself to death, I was not.

So I didn’t really do anything. I worried about what needed to get done. I froze up. I freaked out. And I felt really bad about it. And I drugged myself with sugars and carbohydrates to feel better.

Now I know how to do things with the time and energy and love that I have in the moment. And as an artist I don’t feel compelled to be making all the time. I don’t need to be creating and putting out art to feel like an artist. Plus I have never rushed myself into something spectacular. 

Having my eating under control has taught me that the most important learning is learning to be still and listen to my life and my heart. And the best thing for me to grasp was that it all takes much more TIME than I thought it would and assumed it should. That care and attention take time. That fully grasping something new takes time. That when it comes to creating my most authentic self, everything worth anything takes time.

So I didn’t have to worry about not creating for a while. And I don’t have to work in a frenzy to complete a project before the “magic” runs out. And I don’t have to distrust myself or my discipline or my work ethic. I could, and can, trust myself. And trust that the more authentically I live, the more I can trust my Life to be exactly what I need.

I just hope both teams have fun.

I didn’t remember the Super Bowl was today. I don’t particularly care about sports in general or football specifically. I am interested in the cultural aspects like the commercials and the half time show, but I always feel just as good being in bed in real time and catching up the next day. 

My husband and I are on the road away from family and friends but even when we happen to be at home, we don’t really do Super Bowl parties. And I have to say that I believe a big part of this is that he doesn’t really care about food and I don’t eat the food anymore.

For the past 19 years I have avoided food focused media. Social, print, video, the whole thing. My husband will often tease me by saying I lack awareness of my surroundings. But it’s generally just a fast food joint. Like he asked if I went to the grocery store with a Burger King in the parking lot. And I told him I had no idea. But then I told him there was an Ace Hardware there, and we agreed it was the same place.

I don’t see fast food places. They literally do not register. But an Ace Hardware might have bendable wire to make a crochet doll’s limbs movable. You can see I simply have my own priorities.

My point is that I don’t see fast food restaurants because they have zero use in my life. (Ok, potentially a bathroom…)

20 years ago I really may have cared about the Super Bowl for taco dip and football shaped cookies. Because I was always thinking about food. And a party like that is centered around food. And the kind of food where it’s all laid out and people can come and go as they please. 

The truth is I would almost certainly have looked forward to the food, and then been filled with shame and guilt and anxiety over it once I was there in front of it. Because I hated my body. And I hated people seeing me eat in my “unworthy” body. And I hated that I could not control my eating. Really my weight. I loved eating. I just hated being fat and everyone seeing it. 

I am grateful that today I don’t have to eat. That I both stopped hating fatness and started to love freedom from my sugar addiction. I love my food! I love that when I do not eat compulsively, all of it is guilt free. I am grateful I don’t feel like I am missing out. I just hope both teams and all my friends have fun!

The Other F Word

A particular thing that has come up for me several times this week is the word fat, and how I feel about it and how the rest of society feels about it.

I use it as a neutral descriptor. But I forget that that is after well over a DECADE of dismantling my internalized fat phobia. 

See I *hate* the euphemisms. Every fat person has the ones they can tolerate and the ones they despise. But you sure as hell are not going to get any kind of consensus. And the truth is, we use the euphemisms because we have made the word fat an insult all the time.

Even after I have taken all of the sting of the word away for myself, there continue to be people who will hear me describe my young self as fat and insist that I was not fat! That I was pretty. (Spoiler alert: I was both!!!) For so many people fat is never ok. It has connotations of laziness, incompetence, dirtiness, and general lack of self control.

My husband does not like to use the word. And I have to say he regularly makes me cringe with his euphemisms of choice. 

I watched an American woman on social media talk about plus size stores in Japan and how they all have “fat” in the store name. And that it was clearly an insult. (The truth is, it probably is? But that is Japan.) We’re here in the USA and she was only willing to say “plus sized.” And made it very clear that in her world, the word fat is a rude slight. 

And then in a conversation with a friend on social media about the woman who was denied a Lyft ride, he very specifically chose not to use the word fat. And said so when I did use it. Because of the connotations. Because he was trying to keep it neutral.

The United States has a problem with fatness. We hate it as a culture. And the truth is, the refusal to use the word makes all of the euphemisms just reinforce the fact that we are being “delicate” about a thing we find shameful. When someone tells us we’re not fat we’re pretty, they are making sure we know we’re “one of the good ones.”

Once I made the choice to accept my body as the holy vessel it is, I do not judge bodies. And if I say that I was, or someone else is fat, it only means that their beautiful and unique vessel is bigger and has more fat than other beautiful unique vessels. Not that I have a judgement on their beauty or heart or their humanity.

Not the same person anymore anyway

I recently started doing my meditation practice as a walking meditation with a mantra. The mantra is Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.

I made the change because I felt like my mind was wandering during sitting meditation. It has definitely been a good experience so far. My mind doesn’t wander nearly as much. Plus I am getting an interesting look at how many “programs” I have running at the same time in my head.

I don’t know if changing my meditation will change anything else, but my experience is that small changes *can* cause huge unexpected transformations. 

When I got sick in early 2022 I got adult onset asthma. But I didn’t know because I hated doctors. And I am deeply stubborn.

I couldn’t breathe to jog, but I had a commitment to workout 5 days a week. A COMMITMENT! I take that shit seriously. So for as long as I could I still jogged. And it was brutal. I was making myself sick and dizzy regularly. And then like NINE MONTHS LATER I started walking stairs instead of jogging. 

Stairs changed so many things for me. First by butt. I started to have a butt. Which changed my entire outlook on skinny. Because I *wanted* a butt. I was actively trying to get bigger not smaller for the first time in my life. For anyone who was ever a fat girl, you know this is monumental. And my daily cardio is still stairs, though now on a fancy stepper where I regularly step a 10 minute mile which both makes me deeply proud and keeps my butt getting bigger!

And somewhere in there, yes also with the desperate pleas of my husband who likes me very much it would seem, I even waded my way through first using urgent care, then getting myself a doctor and actually taking care of my asthma and the rest of my health. Like blood work and mammograms and the whole nine. Decades of terror and trauma dealt with in less than a year. 

How??? I don’t know. But I wasn’t the same person anymore anyway. 

I don’t know if walking meditation will change anything. But I can’t say that it won’t. The truth is I am ready for change. And I’m telling Life by making some changes of my own in my time. 

Worth every boring moment

I made another very cool pouch! A Taco Pouch, with a zipper and a taco fabric lining. It’s amazing! I love it!

But on Wednesday this past week I did not love where I was. All of the creative part was done. All that was left to do was assembly. So lots of detail work. 

My husband is a kind of construction worker, and he runs jobs where they build and install machines. And we sometimes talk about “show steel” which is the part of the job that looks impressive. Like if yesterday there was nothing but an empty space there and now there’s a bunch of machine standing up all over the factory. But for the next few days, the work will be detail work. It will be tightening bolts and putting up handrail, etc. Which still needs to be done, but doesn’t look like anything. And it doesn’t impress anyone.

So all I had left on Wednesday was detail work. And I had a great new idea for a cheeseburger pouch! So I didn’t *want* to iron fabric and make and cut out patterns on graph paper, and impale myself on straight pins while trying to cut and sew. 

But I did. Because crafting is not only about the creative part. For me it’s about details. About my own fastidiousness. About craft. About my understanding that a job worth my time and energy is worth utmost care and attention.

And I’m so glad I did. Because it’s a real masterpiece. I am so proud of it!

And then about 1/3 of the way through the cheeseburger, I needed a break. I had exhausted my creativity. 

So for the past few days I have been not creating. I’ve been cleaning. Doing mindless knitting that is all hands and rhythm and no brain.

I think if I had not finished Taco Pouch, I would not be able to. It would have been lost in the creative void with the pieces of a bunny and the head and body of a discarded character doll and a handful of other projects.

But I did complete it. And now when I am filled up again creatively and ready to make again, I can get back to my cheeseburger. And know that I have a history of completing these pouches, even when I am at the boring part. 

There is pride in knowing I will do what it takes to make something to completion. It doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s something I have had to cultivate. And it’s worth every boring needle pricked moment.

Making bad art. And also great art. As one does.

I finished my lined zipper pouch. It was (is) absolutely hideous. And kind of hilarious. But I love it and am proud of it. And people on social media told me it looked kind of like a baked potato. 

So I modified the pattern, and changed the colors, and made a freaking adorable baked potato zipper pouch. With a fabric lining and crocheted butter pats and chives on top. I’m still considering how to crochet a dollop of sour cream for a little zipper accessory.

One of the most important lessons I learned about art is that you have to be willing to make bad art to make great art. And that not all your art is going to be great, even if you are a great artist. 

That was a lesson I heard, but did not *get* until I had my eating under control and I was no longer drugging myself with sugar. 

When I was eating sugar and drug foods compulsively, it really felt like I would never eat again if I didn’t eat that thing (cake, cookie, piece of pizza) right now. Like that was the last one on Earth and it needed to be mine.

I crafted in a similar manner when I was still eating sugar. Obsessed. Obsessive. Frantic. Inspiration was fleeting. And without the discipline of keeping my eating under control, I didn’t even understand discipline. You want me to STOP and then START AGAIN?????

Addiction felt like I would literally die if I  didn’t get my drug (sugar.) And similarly I felt like I would literally die if I stopped working on that project.

And because of that the art I made was often rushed and half assed. I didn’t want to do the mundane parts. I didn’t care about the details. I just needed to get it done!

When I gave up sugar and put boundaries around my eating, I learned that there was always another meal coming. Not just was told, but understood! And that let me be calm enough to focus on other things.

Now, when I make art, it is a vehicle for the details. I even IRONED the fabric lining for sewing and just general neatness. Who even am I???

I have some more ideas. More things I want to make. And perhaps some of them will be hideous. But it feels good to make some creative leaps early in 2025. 

I didn’t even want to be here

Honestly, I don’t even want to be here. There is a super ambitious (for me) project I’m working on. I’m cloth lining a crochet pouch and adding a zipper.

My first cloth lining. My first adding a zipper. I made my own pattern on graph paper. The piece, currently in progress, has gross imperfections that I will have to come up with better techniques for to make more in the future. But I always have a kind of deep knowing that I am good at making. And that I love it. That even the dissatisfaction is its own kind of satisfaction.

But I have the life I have because I take self care seriously and treat it methodically. 

I write this blog every week because I am committed to writing about my life as a recovering sugar addict. It’s self care like journaling, meditation, and exercise. Once I got my eating under control I could see that commitment was life changing. And that talking openly regularly about sugar addiction was a way I wanted to change my life. And it worked.

So here I am writing when I would rather be accidentally stabbing myself with needles and pins…(ok, I do actually hate that part. But I want to get back to it nonetheless.)

I could burn myself out on making. I want to. The addict in me absolutely wants to. I want to binge it the way I used to binge chocolate. Forget about my commitments. Just zone out.

And I used to make that way. Crazy up all night sugar fueled binges of compulsive creating. Too emotional to have the time or patience to actually care about craft. 

Being forced to stop to take care of my commitments, like eating my 3 meals, doing each of my weekly workouts, sleeping 8 hours a night, has made it possible for me to make more patiently. To take care of the details. There is no rush. 

It often felt like inspiration would go away if I didn’t finish. And sometimes it did go away. And sometimes it still does. 

But in the end, when I stop even when I don’t want to, to do things I know I need to, I get further, I learn more, and I make better. 

Now that this commitment is done I can make a little more. 

Until lunch.

The sanity, but also really, the vanity.

This week a young person mistook me for a fellow young person. (Cue that Steve Buscemi gif.) And when she asked for my skin care routine, I told her. (Cosrx hyaluronic acid serum and moisturizer. Sunscreen every day.) But I also really felt the need to say that it *really* is the no sugar no alcohol. 

When people come to do what I do with food, almost all of them come to get skinny. They come for intentional weight loss. It’s why I came in January of 2006.

But it’s kind of a trap. A nice, gentle trap. Because I have not been skinny the whole time I have had my eating under control. But I have always been peaceful. A kind of peace I have never had before quitting sugar and putting boundaries around my eating. 

We call it “coming for the vanity and staying for the sanity.”

But here is the other thing. We are GORGEOUS! We are stunners all the way into our 60s, 70s and 80s!!!! I’m talking about women I know personally. Women who lived fast and wild in their youth! Women who ate themselves into wheelchairs before quitting sugar and becoming beautiful. Giving up sugar and alcohol is a kind of fountain of youth. 

I don’t miss sugar. I don’t miss alcohol. I don’t miss worrying about becoming diabetic because I can’t stop eating. And I don’t miss worrying about and hating my looks!

I spent the first 28 years of my life constantly simultaneously hating myself and worrying about what other people were thinking about my body. And now I don’t think about my looks except to assume that everyone thinks I am beautiful. It’s never on my mind. That’s so much extra room to do things that make me happy!

It’s a miracle. It’s the vanity and the sanity. 

No void to fill this Christmas

I am in Chicago for a few days for some pre-holiday celebrating. But not actual holiday. We are headed back to our apartment in SLC on Christmas Eve, and we will celebrate Christmas by not really doing much of anything. Yay!

‘Cause I don’t really care about Christmas.

Here’s part of it: I love my life every day. I’m not anxiously anticipating a special day. I like my regular days. And in fact, these special days are often exhausting if you do the bells and whistles. 

So I don’t do the bells and whistles. And I don’t want to. And I thankfully married a man who doesn’t want to either. 

Having my eating under control makes it possible to be unapologetically myself. I don’t feel pressured to do things to please others. Or to meet other’s’ expectations. (And the truth is half the time I was just meeting what I assumed others’ expectations would be.) But instead now I already like myself. I don’t need to try to make everyone happy to fill that void. 

So this year we are keeping holidays low key. Seeing family. Spending time. Enjoying company. And then leaving and enjoying peace and quiet.

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