Eating Buddies

Tomorrow my husband and I celebrate our 3rd anniversary. Neither of us has been as big as we are right now. We are eating buddies. I really realized that after last weekend. I won't catalog the M&M's, Famous Dave's, etc., etc., etc.

Nevertheless I paid a price at the scale today. 8/10 of a pound or 12.5 ounces. At least it wasn't the other way. And it was the result of the weekend. Not just the weekend only, but I fear the nature of our relationship. Ironically, the lesson at WW was about not letting the scale determine our mood. The leader said that she had one woman who would say over and over, "I love myself no matter what. I love myself no matter what."

Well, I need some kind of mantra. I'm not lovin' myself no matter what these days. Sadly, my weight is a reflection of my struggles since we've been married. It has not been a walk in the park, for either me or my husband.

But the thing I didn't expect is the danger of living with an eating buddy. Today we went to the mall to buy him an anniversary present. We walked in through the food court. There we passed Rocky Mountain Chocolates, Panda Express, Sbarro, etc., etc., etc. Into the mall where we saw Godiva Chocolates, V Chocolates, and didn't head all the way down to See's Candy. Oh my. My husband settled on 2 cookies from Mrs. Fields. On the way in, I had spyed TCBY and expressed a longing. My husband, always eager to please, steered me into the ice cream shop where a lone worker tried to ply her wares. But I held steady. I really didn't need TCBY, so in spite of my husband's urging; we left the shop.

But how do you keep will power at a high level when your eating buddy is with you day in day out?

I came home and exercised for 15 minutes, which was better than nothing, to a Biggest Loser Workout. Most discouraging to see how bad my fitness level is right now.

So now I am hungry and want to eat when I was full from a healthy dinner only 3 hours ago. Why, oh why, can't full last?

Back in the Saddle

I went to WW today. They are starting a push "Lose For Good." For the next 7 weeks, WW will match weight loss and give food to the poor. According to the reader, 1.5 billion are overweight on this planet Earth and 300,000 million are underfed. I can't swear by the statistics, since I'm no good at numbers. But I do remember that underfed are less than overfed. When did this happen?

I have been listening to a book on tape that says that we have all been trained like Pavlov's dogs to respond to sugary/fatty foods. Our brain neurons have actually been rewired to crave and respond to the things that are not good for us. When did this happen?

Our young women brought Niel over cookies to thank him for his service at church. The cookies were as big as both of my hands put together. Cookies used to be small enough to be held in Lil' Pete's hand. When did this happen?

I used to be a wisp of a willow girl and now I'm shaped like my Mom. When did this happen?

Wish me luck. I plan to journal 5/7 days this week and exercise 4/7. I hope to have some weight loss that can feed some person in a poorer part of the planet than I.

Last Supper

Okay. I have a date in mind to climb back in the saddle and back on track. It is a week from now. And the oddest thing happens when you are anticipating controlling your eating. I've heard it referred to the "Last Supper" syndrome. It is where you find yourself eating uncontrollably because tomorrow "We diet!"

Well, that's not exactly what's happening here, but the past few weeks have been as food filled for me as the holiday season. My son's wedding complete with wedding cake (it was wonderful, by the way), a trip out of town (where they served 2 warm chocolate chip cookies on each flight and I had a total of 4 flights due to connections), celebrating birthdays (two friends in one day).

And right now I feel so full I feel as if I could never eat again. Now why can't I keep that feeling? Wouldn't it be wonderful?

Tomorrow, thankfully, looks like it will be a normal, no celebration, day. It's about time.

You've Never Failed If You Haven't Given Up

I keep hearing these advertisements about quitting smoking and how many people try and fail many times before they get it right.

The mantra that has seen me through these many years is that you've never failed if you haven't given up. And you can quote me on that.

So it's back in the saddle again; hopefully taking what I've learned from my past failures and adding wisdom so that I can ultimately make it to my success.

I only know that the last few months I have never found enough time for me. The few times in my life where I've successfully lost weight and kept it off were always about finding time for me. Go figure.

There's something about giving and giving until you have nothing left that leaves me particularly vulnerable to overeating. It's as if the indulgence of taking something in becomes as necessary as air to breath or water to drink. Unfortunately, taking in carrots and strawberries doesn't quite do the same thing. Again, it's back to that full, immobile feeling that comes from starches, fats, and sugars.

I'll keep you posted!

Shopping in the Women's Department

My friend asked me the other day what I expected to be different in my life if I got to and stayed at my goal weight. I don't think that I'll get a better job; I happen to like the one I have already. I don't think it will change my love life, my friends, or my family. I don't expect a Cinderella ending to life just because I become thin. But there are some things that will change. And one of those changes is that I will never again shop in the Women's Department.

The creator of the first Women's Department had a cruel sense of humor indeed. What is the rationale behind make women who are struggling with their weight, a little or even a lot heavier than the average, have to walk all over a department store to find clothes in their size? Are they trying to force exercise on us?? Because it is the rare store that actually has the Women's Department adjoining the Misses Department. I'm not even going to go into why THAT is a stupid name for a clothing department. But would it be so wrong to have them interspersed? Do they need to be kept separate because thin women are afraid they will catch being fat? Or are fat women so disgusting that they should be consigned to shop in outer Mongolia?

It feels as if being fat were akin to being a leper in biblical times. Let me lay out the scenario for you. I enter those magical glass doors into a huge, welcoming department store, full of possibilities. The first floor is brim with beautiful things to temp the eye, as well as the pocketbook. The floor itself is a beautiful marble that reflects the overhead lighting and makes everything appear happy and bright. As I travel the first floor of the store, I begin in cosmetics and perfume. Everywhere are lovely, thin, well-manicured sales women busily selling expensive perfumes and lipsticks. They are all occupied helping women who are richer and thinner than I. Next up is the accessories department. Leather belts, purses, and costume jewelry; everything designed to be the icing on the cake of a well thrown together outfit. Shoes follow that. It's true that shoe size stays somewhat constant and it is never quite as discouraging trying on shoes as it is the Terrible Threesome (jeans, bras and swimsuits). Nevertheless, it is possible to find shoes that make your feet look fat. Who would have thought it to be true; but it is. And forget stilettos. When I am ** pounds overweight, those cankles just cannot support all that fat on top of two little sticks. There will be no sexy sashaying about for me. So, yes, even the shoe department holds some disappointments. I leave the first floor with barely a glance at the men's department. However, I have to wonder if Men's Wear is placed on the first floor because the designers believe that men are too uninterested to keep shopping if they have to go up a floor to find dress socks and ties.

I take the escalator to the second floor, noticing the mirrors that run the length of the escalator. All I can think is, "I really need to drop this weight." There is no marble on this floor, but lush carpet that soothes the shopping weary feet. Ah, department after department of clothing designed for thin women. Yes, there is a corner devoted to children. But the remaining floor is filled with bras topping out at 36C, dresses, suits, active wear, jeans, outfits for work, sweaters, swimsuits, and everything else to delight a feminine heart; row after row of beautiful fabrics, daring and fun designs, endless possibilities, as far as the eye can see. Thin, well-put together women are happily shopping, arms full of clothing to gladden the soul. I search and search the floor looking for my size. Why is it that a 16 can be found in the Misses Department (although they get snatched up rather quickly) and an 18 is "Persona non Grata?" Quietly, I ask a busy sales woman, "Where is your Women's Department?" She acts as if she doesn't hear me. I ask again, a little louder this time, "Excuse me, Ma'am, where is your Women's Department?" This time she sniffs and says as disdainfully as she says loudly, "Our Women's Department??? Third floor." She brushes me off and brusquely hurries off to help the first thin woman she can find.

Escalator to the third floor. As I step off, I see housewares, linen and towels. Where, oh where, is that blasted Women's Department? After walking the floor twice, I see it in a distant corner of the store. The carpet is the lowest commercial grade, the lighting less elegant, and even the racks don't appear as nice.

And then I have the limited possibilities... There is soooo much less to chose from. The colors are so dowdy; not-so-rich grays, blah navy, dirty-earthy brown, and; of course, the inevitable black. What color and patterns there are look like something only a great-grandmother would wear. There are no saucy skirts, flowing dresses, or well-cut suits. Clothing here is designed to cover and nothing more. And yet, it is still so hard to get a fit. When I am thin, I can try on many things that look cute and make me feel feminine and fun. When I am fat, I am looking for clothing that minimizes the bad. Does it cover a roll here, some flab there? Looking in the three-way mirror, I'm amazed that my butt really is that big. Finally I find it; the single item I was looking for. It's not a color I would have chosen and it's too loose here and too tight there. But, it'll do. The words that snuff out the last remaining joy of shopping. It'll do. There, I am done.

I had the opportunity to go to a black tie event not too long ago. I don't live in the circles where such an event comes around often. I did find a department store that had a dress that made me feel reasonably attractive; good luck that. But how much more fun would it have been shopping for a dress with sparkle and pizazz.

I hope there is a special place in hell for dress designers who only cater to thin women. I hope that they spend eternity having to cut out dowdy tent dresses in size 22; no make that size 26.

Advantages of Dieting

The book that I am reading assigns you to make a list of the advantages of dieting (vs. pigging out). I read them twice a day to impress upon my mind the reasons I want to learn to eat well. The theory is that the advantages will come back to you when you want to give up.

I want to share some of the reasons I listed, but will only do it one at a time so I can explore them in depth.

One of the reasons is that I will spend less time on my relationship with food when I learn how to think of it in a healthy way. First off, time is very important to me. I've pondered a lot about what a gift it is and what a precious commodity. We choose to spend our time on those things that are important to us, whatever that may be; loved ones, service, self-indulgence, whatever.

Well, I can't believe the amount of time I have spent during my life on food. I don't mean, shopping, planning and preparing. I don't consider that a waste of time, especially when it blesses my family and brings us together for mealtimes.

I'm talking about the time spent on my addiction to food. I remember particularly one time driving and feeling a craving for a muffin. The gas station I went to had these big, luscious cream cheese filled muffins that were about 900 calories each. They were cakey and greasy and gave that full up feeling that I loved. Well, the gas station was out! Obviously, others loved experiencing the muffin high as much as I did. So I drove to another station and another and another. They were all out. I remember settling for a lesser indulgence, but this was the first time I had felt that driven to act out on a craving. I wish I could say that I learned my lesson, that no craving was worth such a waste of time (and gas!). But it was the first of many such frantic, determined conquests.

I wonder how much of my life has been spent in such bad use of my time. I probably really don't want to know. Even in the midst, my conscious self knows that the thing I seek will not satisfy, but deep inside I have this twisted notion that if I can only eat the one perfect, satiating, food I will never be hungry again. And so the search has gone on.

I'm ready for that search to end. I'm ready to admit, as I heard someone say once, "That which you do not need can never satisfy." I have no need of a grease soaked muffin, white icing filled chocolate cookie, cakey chocolate donut. They will never satisfy and should not be eaten for that purpose. They should be seen for what they are; an indulgence. I believe that I can get to the point where I enjoy the rare indulgence and no longer let it drive me.

Hunger

It is interesting that after the last blog, the next chapter in the book I'm reading is about hunger and learning to tell the difference between hunger, desire, and cravings.

Hunger is something that I very seldom feel because I am afraid to get there. Perhaps the last blog helps me to understand a little bit why that might be. But people who have dieted a lot tend to start to feel a fear of feeling hungry. Yup. I'm there.

Right now I am feeling hungry. I ate about 5 hours ago, so my body may be ready for something more. I feel a little afraid, perhaps apprehensive about going to bed hungry. Both of those words seem too strong. I'll have to think of a better one. But I do know I have started to really dislike the discomfort that comes with being hungry. The dislike has gotten stronger in the past few years. I worry, less than worry really, but something akin to it. It's more subconscious than worry. The thoughts are below the surface....If I go to bed without eating, will I sleep well? Will it keep me up? What can I eat?

I think this real fear of hunger has become worse in the last year. I wonder what has triggered it. I only know that I make sure and pack a lot of food to take to work because I am worried about being hungry while I am there. I look to feel more than satiated, full really; sometimes overly full. I know that contributes to my overeating. I need to learn that to be hungry is okay. I can handle discomfort.

For a time I went through a phase (I have been through many, many food phases) where I would stop at a gas station before work for a "steamed milk." Steamed cream is more like it. The name sounds innocuous enough, but I bet there's plenty of calories, fat, and sugar to sink the best of diet intentions. The thing is that there was a unique comfort in the full, warm feeling that it left me with. There is also a unique stupor that results from the mixture of fat and warm milk when it fills your stomach.

Now why would that be a feeling that I would want? What does that do for me? I suppose it replaces the apprehensive feeling I have about my life sometimes. Do other people worry and fret the way I do about just getting through? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, that full/comatose feeling is something I need to learn to let go of.

A Little History, A Lot of Pain

I'm reading a book. It's called "The Beck Diet Solution" by Judith Beck. It is designed to help you change the way you think about food using Cognitive Therapy Skills. I am more than hopeful that it can help me change the negative patterns in my food life.

To begin with, even though I was thin as a youth; I'm not sure that I ever really thought about food in a healthy way.

My mother struggled with depression. She may have, perhaps, even been bi-polar. Nobody diagnosed those things in those days. It just wasn't talked about and there certainly was not medication to make life easier. She spent days sleeping on end, locking my sister and I out of the house during the long summer days so we wouldn't wake her up. The neighbors were all aware, but it was only years later that I understood that they were dealing with their own problems. This was the 60's and you just didn't stick your nose in other people's business; even when you saw their children being neglected.

At any rate, there was either too much food around or too little. One quickly learned that if it was there, you had better eat it because it wouldn't be there tomorrow. When I was quite young, five or six, she would often cook dinner. However, this ritual became less and less frequent as I grew older and older. When she did cook, she did it well. The food we ate was often exotic compared to what my friends ate in their homes. No green jello or stewed tomatoes for us. When she cooked, we would eat chicken cacciatore or sweet and sour pork. My friends had to subsist on meatloaf or gravy with roast.

Holidays were especially centered around food. Birthdays were a day long feast of homemade pizza with fresh mozzarella, pepperoni, and Italian sausage. She would triple the recipe and we would start at around 4:00 p.m. and she would cook pizza after pizza. Finally we would finish with birthday cake purchased from a bakery, slathered with that rich, sugary frosting made with tons of shortening. That is still my ultimate favorite food, in part I am sure, for the good memories it brings.

Then there was Thanksgiving. My mother truly outdid herself. She wasn't a fan of potatoes and gravy. Homemade rolls were not an important part of the feast. Instead, she would make turkey with rice and pecan stuffing, dips made of blue cheese and crab, candied acorn squash, homemade cranberry sauce and spumoni for dessert. No pies for us; just not exotic enough. There was enough food to last for days. However; it rarely did since my mother was a closet eater who could put away a lot during the long night. Those were the good food days.

On the bad food days, we would often be sent to the local hamburger stand where they sold the cheapest, little burgers 5 for $1. That would be dinner for my four sisters and me. We would barely sit at the table, wolf down our little burger, and be off to play with hunger pains barely assuaged.

I remember being hungry. I would forage for food. Since my mom didn't shop regularly, there just wasn't a lot to eat. I remember trying to eat toothpaste to stop my hunger pains. It didn't work. I would eat raw spaghetti. I ate raw onions once and they made me very sick. If we had apples, I would eat every part, even down to the core; spitting out the seeds. I remember eating oranges, eating the flesh, then the pith and finally the peels. The acid would leave my mouth tingling.

And then she would go to the store. There was an in store bakery that carried "Alligator Jaws." They were triangle shaped, deep fried donuts, filled with whipped cream, glazed with chocolate, then topped off with more whipped cream to form eyes. Frankly, I thought they were disgustingly sweet. But my mom would buy five, six or seven of them. We would each be given our own. I would eat one or two bites, wrap it up and set it aside for later; only to find it gone when I went to eat it.

My mother would frequently eat late at night, while we were sleeping. She never seemed to eat in front of us, and often didn't sit down to dinner with us. But sometimes when I woke up in the middle of the night, I would head for the kitchen for a drink of water. When I got to the open door, I would see my mother, sitting in the dark, stuffing her mouth as full of food as she could. I would tip toe back to my room, so as not to disturb her.

She led a very sad life.

The lesson learned was to eat food while it was there. My father worked for a frozen food distributing plant and was sometimes allowed to bring home cases of food that had some damage. That was jackpot time. We would eat frozen boil 'n bags of chipped beef, TV dinners, and Sara Lee cheesecake. My sister and I could put away an entire cheesecake in the course of a day, eating sliver by sliver. And I don't think Sara Lee cheesecakes were as small back then as they are today! I loved the full feeling it gave me. My metabolism was such that I could burn it off and it never showed up on hips or thighs. Surprisingly, I had a cast-iron stomach and never ended up with a belly ache.

A part of me longs for that time when I could eat what I wanted and never feel the effects. But when I think about it, I never really could eat what I wanted when I wanted....until I became an adult. And then the fat came on.

Joey, Joey, Joey

Joey, Joey, Joey
Joey, Joey, Joey, Joe

You've been too long
In one place
And it's time to go
Time to go.

Joey, Joey, Joey

Joey, travel on.
You've been too long
In one town
And the harvest time's
Come and gone.

That's what the wind
Sings to you
When the bunk you've been bunkin' in
Gets to feelin' too soft and cozy.

I sing, Joey
Joey, Joey
Joey, Joey, Joe

You've been too long,
In one place,
And it's time to go.
Time to go.

Joey, Joey, Joe

My mother used to sing that song to me when I was a child. I think that she was like me in that one word will set off the memory of a song and it keeps playing in your mind until you have to let it out. Since she heard my name often, the song probably played pretty regularly in her head. I thought she'd made the song up until I was twelve and one of my friends mother's sang it when she heard my name for the first time. Catchy tune.

But the song fits. I've been in one place too long.

As a child, I was the skinniest little thing you ever saw. My dad used to joke that I had to jump around in the shower to get wet. I was always wafer thin until my early twenties, garnering comments from friends, family, and even strangers; usually "You need to eat more."

And then something happened. I'm not quite sure what. But the 30 years since have been marked by dieting, losing weight, being thin, gaining weight, being fat, and then starting all over again. And it all began with wanting to lose five pounds!

I am weary with the cycle. What are the metaphors that fit? Merry-go-round, roller coaster, treadmill, battle. Whatever the metaphors, living the life has been unrelenting.

I have often said that my relationship with food is the most complex relationship of my life. Food is the friend. Food is the foe. I spend way too much time and way too much energy on this relationship. Often this relationship is the priority. Sometimes other relationships have suffered because of it. This is the relationship that drains me.

However, it's not food that is the problem. It's not my body that is the obstacle. It's how I think about food that is the tether. It's my thoughts that hold my body prisoner.

So here I am to chronicle the journey as I redefine my relationship with food, my relationship with my body, and; ultimately, as I redefine Joey. This is my travelog.

I'm going to learn how to let go of the fat girl who has lived in my head for way too long. And you, dear reader, are invited to come along on my journey.

Come on. It's time to go.