onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “sugar addiction”

Non-traditional day of gratitude

We did not end up going anywhere for Thanksgiving! I was all ready to go on Wednesday when my husband came home from work sick. 

He was going to drive me home in his company truck and then lay in bed except for diving me to and from my mom’s so I could have Thanksgiving with her. Because we haven’t seen her in a while. 

And honestly that is just dumb. I can drive myself. I have my own car. So I considered just driving myself to my mom’s and back on Thursday. But then I would be leaving my husband sick at home. (I don’t think he would care that it was Thanksgiving.) 

Plus, my mom and my stepdad have a trip planned for Antarctica in a couple of weeks. (That’s not a typo.) So my husband was also wary about one of us getting one of them sick.

Anyway I don’t care about traditional turkey dinner. (I was always in it for the lasagna at my Italian grandma’s house.) I don’t particularly like the meat. I don’t eat carbs so no stuffing or potatoes or candied anything. (No lasagna even if Gram were alive, sadly…) plus I don’t eat food in my food like in casseroles. I would be going to see my family. 

But then on Friday my husband was feeling a little better and we made a carb-free meatloaf (crushed pork rinds instead of breadcrumbs, and sugar-free ketchup) and I made sautéed green beans and he made himself mashed potatoes, and we made it together. 

And that really felt like Thanksgiving to me.

I’m sorry we didn’t get to see people this weekend. But we will see family for Christmas. (Not my mom and her husband. They will be in Antarctica. That is still not a typo.) Or in January for makeup holiday. 

And I got to be just as grateful in my own nontraditional way.

Wait, it’s the Holidays again?

I started my holiday season early this year. And didn’t even realize it.

I just got back to my husband and kitten after my second fun friend weekend in a row. (Yay me!) And next weekend is Thanksgiving, and we are actually going this year since we are less than a two hour drive from home. (We don’t usually do Thanksgiving because I don’t eat professionally anymore and neither of us care about turkey or the traditional foods.)

I’m not a consistently social person. I am the life of the party, certainly. But getting me to the party isn’t as easy as it used to be…But right now I want to be showing up for the people in my life. For my communities. Being a part of them. Being of service. Being available. Really, just being present. 

And through all of it I am probably going to bring my own food to most places. Or eat before or after. And not feel bad about it. Not bad about it for not eating the hosts’ food. Not bad about it that I don’t get to eat party food. Not bad about it that I am eating differently than everyone else in front of other people. Or not eating at all.

This will be my 19th holiday season of having my eating under control. And after all this time, it has never been easier. But even 19 years ago, when it was not easy, it was so much better than being obsessed and ashamed. 

The agony of a silly mistake with minimal consequences

I made a mistake this week. A really simple silly mistake with minimal consequences. And I got really upset.

Obviously.

I thought that a ladies night painting party I was attending was on Friday night. So I packed up the food I needed for one day and drove 2 hours to my other house on Friday and realized the party was Saturday. 

I texted my husband to let him know. And then I cried. Because I felt stupid. Because I was humiliated. Because I told my husband I would be back to take care of the cat on Saturday morning and now I would not be there until Sunday morning. (Yes, of course he is a fully capable man who was happy to take care of our cat.) Because I missed my cat. Oh and my husband.

And then I remembered that I trust that Life is giving me exactly the right things and that includes my own mistakes. And that I don’t even need to know how or why. I can just accept it and be exactly where I am without feeling like I should be anywhere else. 

Instead of being unhappy I caught up with the family at the house. And I ran some errands including getting enough food for the next day too. 

So when I went to the party I was not feeling stupid. Or like a bad cat mom. Or humiliated. I was fully present. I met the coolest new women. I made an abstract painting of my cat. I had a blast and I am back home with my husband and my cat.

Creative problem solving at its finest

Last week I wrote about how I know I am a food addict because I freaked out when I realized I only fed my entirely fine kitten 3 meals instead of 4 one day last week. How my brain is not rational around food. Well I got another reminder this week from a different quarter. 

In the morning I often pack my husband’s lunch box for work. And he likes a snack of an apple dipped in yogurt and crushed peanuts. It’s a quarter cup of peanuts. I measure it out. Not like I would for me. (I actually don’t eat most legumes, including peanuts. They trigger sugar cravings for a lot of sugar addicts.) It’s heaping instead of flat. If a few don’t fit and fall out of the cup I give them to him anyway. 

But I can tell how hungry I am by how big or small that bag of peanuts looks to me. 

A lot of times people are incredulous that after 19 years and 10 months I can’t just eyeball my food by now. Like how do I not know what 4 ounces looks like after almost two entire decades? How could I still need to weigh it? Every time?

But I know that I am still very much not normal around food because I cannot even eyeball someone else’s peanuts that have zero effect on my life. Some days in the same week that bag looks so abundant I think “wow! That is a lot of peanuts!” And alternatively “Ugh. What a pittance!” Sometimes on consecutive days! 

One thing I learned to do by accepting my sugar addiction was meet myself where I am at. I cannot eat sugar like a normal eater. And I love to eat and cannot get myself to stop. So I gave up sugar, and made sure that all of my food is always delicious. Creative problem solving at its finest.

And it still works 19 years and 10 months in.

My cat is not a food addict

This week I got a look at how not in touch with reality I am to food. From my cat.

So my kitten gets fed 4 times a day. A mix of dry and wet food, and she doesn’t finish the food most meals most days. 

Well the other day I realized I only fed her TWICE that day as I was putting down her last meal for the night for a grand total of 3 meals. 

I was terrified! I was so upset with myself. Should I leave out more food? Will it go bad? What if she wakes up hungry in the night?!?! What if she’s been waiting for this food, and is starving!

She had not been crying and begging for food. She did not fall upon it ravenously. She did not even seem to notice that she “missed” a meal. She ate it much as she does every other meal. With the same intensity.

But *I* was worried. Literally actually worried that I had left her hungry enough to make her unwell. Because she can’t talk. And all I have is routine. Because I don’t think about food normally. 

Obviously it didn’t take me too long to get rational and recognize that she is not only fully nourished but also healthy and well cared for in every way. That one meal one time for a cat that eats FOUR TIMES A DAY is fine. That if she didn’t complain she probably didn’t care. There are not a lot of martyr kittens. 

Having my eating under control is how I, personally, know what to eat. Because I don’t ever feel done. I don’t ever FEEL like I have had enough. I weight out food on a scale. I eat the same amount every day. That is how I know I have had enough. My body is not good at that on its own.

So when I feed my cat 4 measured out meals, that makes sense to me. Because I do the same for me, only mine is only 3 meals and they are way more food. And way more delicious…(you can’t give cats spices…)

And when I fail to give my cat one of those meals, I get as upset as I would if I forgot one of MY meals. 

The good news is, I was more upset about it than my cat who is apparently not a food addict. 

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. 

Getting over any it

Before I got my eating under control in my late 20s, it always felt like nothing would ever change. All of the bad things seemed to stick around. All of my problems seemed linked to my “being.” When people said this too shall pass, I often felt like no. Not *this*! This is set in stone. 

And there is a saying. What you resist persists. Which I believe. Resistance is an acknowledgment of something. Acknowledgment is a form of power. And of course a big part of the persistence is perspective. There only ever seemed like one, impossible way to solve any problem. 

By quitting simple sugar and carbohydrates I changed myself. First I changed my perspective on what I was capable of. Like the ability to not eat compulsively. The ability to keep my word and my commitments. And then, slowly but surely I became a person I had once believed I was not and could not be. 

I believed I was not meant to be one of those people who watches what they eat and works out. I was terrified and traumatized by doctors, so I never sought medical help if I could at all avoid it. I had a lot of excuses that felt REAL! They felt true. And I had so much evidence. 

And then after choosing to get control of my eating I became a person who takes care of herself. After the food, moderating my caffeine lead to getting better sleep. I became a person who wanted to use her body. Working out lead to loving my body at any size. Going to the doctor lead to learning I have exercise induced asthma, and making my workouts actually easy and enjoyable. And getting an antidepressant that changed my entire outlook on life. 

I don’t usually think about it this way but I needed to get over some idea about myself. Or the world. Or myself in the world. 

It is only after getting my eating under control that I had the mental and emotional space to deal with all of the fears and worries I was living with. At 48, troubles I had at 25 that I could not imagine a solution to, aren’t even a blip on my radar. Fears for my future that used to paralyze me are gone, non-issues. I am the most content I have ever been with myself and my life. 

I just had to get over it first. Any it.

Tips on how to eat more

I’m hungry and tired lately. Maybe it’s the change of seasons. Maybe it’s the switch from over a pound of melon every morning for breakfast to a big (14 ish oz) apple, that is delicious, but does not weigh over a pound. Or maybe it’s spending my days with a not quite 4 month old kitten. But I’m rarely fully rested and satisfied lately. 

I like to feel stuffed. I like to feel a little overfull. I prefer that to any kind of hunger. And once that was a source of deep shame because I was fat I was supposed to eat less. I was not allowed to feel satisfied!

And of course, nobody was really allowed to. There was a new strategy to eat less in each women’s magazine, every single month.

Drink water instead of eating because you might just be thirsty! Ask for lemon in the water and suck on a lemon wedge. Only ever eat 3/4 of what is on your plate. Drink a full glass of water before you eat so you are already a little full. Eat slowly and then wait for 20 minutes to see if you are still hungry. Use a smaller plate to trick your brain into thinking there is more food. 

All of these are things normal women did and do on a regular basis to eat less. Just so that they could take up less space in the world.

I don’t have a “done” button. It’s a part of my addiction. I don’t know when I have had enough. I could literally eat a whole other meal after every single meal. Even after 19+ years of having my eating under control. I’m telling you sometimes I eat POUNDS OF FOOD, and *could* literally do the whole thing again. Which is why I have a food program to this day. 

But I do have the capacity to feel happily stuffed and I love that I no longer feel beholden to the idea that I should always eat less if I can. I eat more. I eat the biggest and the best. I eat to be satisfied. And to not be satisfied is the exception and not the rule.

I always wanted to eat more and I was ashamed of it. Now I am unashamedly joyful to eat the biggest fruit. The fattiest protein. The yogurt with 10% milk fat. The most filling and satisfying meal I can think of with no drug foods in it.

Getting my eating under control meant guilt free eating. And more importantly, guilt free satisfaction. 

I know this too shall pass. I bet if I go back through my blogs there is a lot of “hunger” in the months I switch from melons to apples. But forgetting stuff like that is also part of my addiction.

A particularly freeing choice

Last week we went to the house we own in the Chicago suburbs, and while I was there I dropped off most of my summer clothes picked up some fall clothes. 

And I noticed a few things. That some clothes still technically fit but were unflattering because I bought them for the me with a smaller butt. And that the clothes that I do have and still wear are a huge range of sizes. Size 8 pants. Size 14 pants. Size medium pants.  Size Large pants. Size XL pants. 

The thing is clothing companies clearly *want* us to have a reaction to sizes. And different people have different reactions. Some women want to see a smaller number so some companies size everything bigger. Some companies size everything smaller. In fact some women shop at places that don’t carry more than a few small sizes because they want the exclusivity of fitting into a limited skinny size range. 

Sizes are not actually helpful because they are not standardized. They are a kind of psychological warfare. Because thinness is considered a virtue in the Western world, and women are expected to strive for it. And I spent most of my life trying to strive for it and failing. Or striving and then failing.

About 3 years ago I started doing exercises to build my butt muscles. And I have entirely changed the shape of my lower body. And that was the first time in my life that the goal was “bigger.” Previously, the goal had only ever been smaller. 

The goal of bigger meant that the number/letters on the clothing tags had less impact. The truth is my size did go down at first as I lost fat and built muscle. But when they started to go back up I was happy, not freaked out. When what was filling out the pants was butt and not belly, I had the experience of loving bigger! I had the option of thinking about drape and fit with bigger sizes because I was not obsessed with the smallest possible numbers!

I quit smoking cigarettes about 13 years ago, and I gained weight uncontrollably. Even though I was still weighing and measuring all of my food. And it was making me crazy so I stopped weighing my body. The number on the scale would mess with my head. It didn’t matter if I thought I looked great in the mirror. 

Because there are numbers that are good and numbers that are bad. Numbers we should be. Single digit sizes. S M L. And numbers we should not be. Anything with Xs on the tag. Double digits. And we, as girls, learn this. From our family members, from our peers, from random ass women on the street making their judgements known.

I guarantee every girl and woman has a number she should be and a number she is. And almost all of the time, the number she should be is smaller than the number she is. 

And the goalposts move.

I didn’t even know how much this impacted me until it stopped happening to me. I did sort of know. You can’t not know growing up a woman in the U.S. But I had no idea how deep rooted it was until it changed in my head. Because I chose muscle. I didn’t even know I was choosing muscle over skinny when it started. I was just enjoying having a butt for the first time in my life as a grown woman! 

But it turned out I was making a choice. And it was a particularly freeing one. 

The gifts of being a slow learner

I have my first pet at 48 years old. A little black kitten named Harlow Gold. And if she has taught me anything, it’s that I have not eradicated that part of my brain that does not trust me.

Growing up addicted to sugar and carbohydrates I never trusted myself. I shut down emotionally when things went wrong. I second guessed every decision. I blamed Life and circumstance and other people for every failure. And I saw failure as a state of existence rather than a momentary experience in a longer process. So ultimately, I was, indeed, untrustworthy. 

When I got my eating under control 19+ years ago I learned to trust myself. I was being more and more authentic. Doing things because I wanted to do them, not to obtain a specific reaction from a person or persons. And I began to honor my word. Have my very basic understanding of integrity. Doing what you saying you are going to do when you say you’re going to do it and telling the truth. Things I was not good at before. 

So I began to like and respect myself. By not eating drug foods. By mending relationships. By being accountable for my own actions and their repercussions. 

And all of that made me feel like I really trusted myself. Until I got a little life to take care of. And now I can hear all of my second guessing in my head. 

This is a thing I have a lot of feelings about. That I might harm others. I have theories about why I have these feelings/fears but regardless, I do have them. And now that I have this kitten, that I am already in love with, I am constantly wondering if I am doing the wrong things. Now with a life in the balance. 

I could never have done this if I were in the food. Because I could not manage my emotions.

The truth is that I am a responsible, grown, disciplined woman. I was a nanny for newborns and children. I am a good care taker and nurturer. I have always been able to do this. But could I *handle* it? For me? Aw hell no.

I am a slow learner. I used to think I was a fast learner. And then,  when I realized I was not fast, I was ashamed of being slow. But honoring that I am a slow learner means that I can be 28 years old and quit sugar, 38 years old and learn how to drive, 48 years old and have my first pet. And they can be done with more joy than fear. With more love than punishment. 

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