Last week I wrote about an eating regimen I’ve been on since early August. Believe me, showing my “before” photo was no fun. My shame, or rather my shame about my shame, had me keeping the amount of my weight gain, 50 pounds, a secret from everyone including my husband. Shame about shame shuts us up and lets whatever we are ashamed about get septic.
Exposing the truth in my newsletter I popped the boil, so to speak, and gunk spilled out. I feel better, but I’m breathing through feeling the way I did in eighth grade when most of my friends needed bras and I was a “slow developer.” (Over-share?) I just have to trust that this pealing back and revealing is helping someone besides me.
Anyway, this week I’m sharing some of the insights I’ve gained in this process. It’s what I do. Here is the list:
1. Losing weight could get addictive.
I know people with eating disorders and a warped body image. They think they need to lose weight when they are already too thin. I also know about addictions having been raised in an alcoholic home. Thankfully, I’ve never succumbed to bulimia or anorexia, but after being on an eating regimen for 3 1/2 months, I have a deeper understanding of how this could happen to someone.
It’s about control. I like control. I like losing an average of 2 pounds a week. I like buying smaller sizes. I like identifying with my slender self rather than feeling dowdy. I could get hooked on this. I feel the delicious Siren of Control beckoning to me. “Vicki,” it whispers to me, “you could get as skinny as you want. You weighed 118 pounds when you graduated from high school. You can keep on this program until you weigh what you did when you were seventeen years old.”
I have more empathy now for people with eating disorders. I feel more compassionate. That is always a good thing.
2. Trusting numbers vs. what I really look and feel like.
I’m finding it interesting that buying a pair of size 8 jeans excited me so much. Size 8 is only a number, and I hear they’ve been changing the sizes anyway, so who knows what the size really means. My weight right now is 144 pounds. I look like I weigh less, probably because my percentage of body fat is less as I’m a fat burning machine now. But still that number, 144 pounds, feels more real to me than how I look or how I feel. I’ve been brainwashed and I’m still giving away my power to an external authority – a number, a number someone else made up.
3. I’m lighter in many ways.
Physically I feel lighter, obviously. Losing 30 pounds makes a big difference. But I’m also feeling lighter of spirit, more hopeful. I feel more lighthearted, a delicious lightness of being. This feeling of lightness motivates me to keep going even in those moments when I’m tempted to scarf down a warm piece of cheese pizza.
4. I was more discouraged than I realized.
Because I’m such an upbeat, optimistic person, I hadn’t realized how discouraged I really was. When reading a book and a character would be described as “fifty-something, slender,” I felt terrible. “That’s not me,” I’d think to myself. “I look more like the woman being described as dowdy or matronly.” Now, I felt unattractive not because I was too skinny, as happened in eighth grade, but because I was too fat. I don’t belief in self hate. I don’t believe in “”fatophobia”, yet I was having trouble loving and accepting myself just as I am.
Let’s not kid around, though. Being overweight is not good for joints, hearts, and it exacerbates all kinds of physical problems. But self hate is not a motivator. Self hate invites more self destructive behavior, which is why most diets don’t work and even backfire.
I worked on my attitude, but I didn’t realize how much I was working on it, and how unsuccessful I was at loving myself 50 pounds overweight.
5. Mindful eating leads to mindful living.
Many people have commented over the years about how fast I eat. I use to almost inhale my food. I was always moving on to the next activity, and eating, though I would enjoy the taste of my food, was something I did fairly mechanically.
In this program, we are encouraged to take at least 15 minutes to eat our meal. This means I’m paying attention to every bite, leaving space in between bites. I recognize this mindfulness because this is a habit I was forced to develop when I lost my vision. I had to start paying attention to each foot step, one step at a time. I had to pay attention to where I put my glasses, where my pens were, where I put my purse. This mindfulness because of my low vision has been a great gift.
Mindful eating has been a great gift as well, and I fully intend to eat this way for the rest of my life.
6. Other people’s responses to my eating regimen have been very interesting.
Some people keep trying to get me to take bites of their food or sips of their alcoholic drinks, even when I am quite content and not longing for anything. This reminds me of what happens for addicts in recovery. Unless the people around them get some treatment too, they will invariably invite the addict back into behaviors they may have been complaining about for years.
Addicts in early recovery are often accused of being boring or no more fun anymore. “I liked you better when you were drinking” is a statement that is unfortunately not rare.
My guess is that people are feeling guilty about their own eating habits, their own weight, or they liked it better when they were thinner than I was. These are very human reactions, and I’ve been guilty of all of them myself.
It’s important to remember that whenever we make a change, a healthy change in our lives, we are going to be rocking the boat. A little rocking never hurt anybody, but it’s a good idea to be ready to steady yourself when someone you had counted on for support turns out to be a crab dragging you back into the pot instead of letting you climb free.
7. Making one choice to be on an eating regimen is much easier than making dozens of choices all day. Or … I do not miss standing in front of the refrigerator.
Since I don’t drive, shop for food, or cook, I’ve often found myself standing in front of the refrigerator, trying to figure out what I can eat. I usually settle for something that’s quick, though not necessarily healthy or low calorie.
With this program I make one decision to be on the program, and then I’m just choosing what kind of packaged meal I want to eat, and which vegetables and lean meat to have for my one Lean and Green meal per day. It’s much, much simpler, and it works very well with my kind of brain and personality.
8. Since I haven’t been drinking or going out to dinner as much, the program hasn’t cost me that much more than I was spending before on food and drink, maybe even less.
Other people are having a harder time with my not drinking than I am. Yes, I miss having a glass of red wine every now and then, but it’s no big deal compared to the joy of pounds melting away. And, since my husband fixes the delicious meals here at home, we don’t eat out very often anymore. I haven’t figured it out exactly, but I’m pretty close to breaking even with this program. How cool is that?
9. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
A friend of mine shared this statement with me, and I found it very useful to say this to myself when I get a hankering for cheese stuffed manicotti.
10. Slow and steady; there is no race.
This may be my most profound lesson. You probably heard Aesop’s fable of the Tortoise and Hare. The moral is slow and steady wins the race. But what I’ve learned in this program is that as long as I believe there’s a race, I’m tempted to start pushing. Whatever is happening is not enough. Instead of enjoying the ride, I’m fretting that I’m not going faster.
Most weeks I lose weight, but some weeks I gained weight. How could anybody gain weight on 1000 calories a day? Answer: our bodies are mysterious. There is a metabolic recalibration going on, and water retention varies.
So even though every week I don’t get reinforced, I’ve learned the power and value of slow and steady. I am gratefully appreciating the peace of mind I receive every time I take myself off the hook and out of the race. The race is a story in my mind and it does not serve me. Believing and trusting in “slow and steady; there is no race” does serve me well.
That’s enough for now. As always, I love comments and I’d love to hear what you’re thinking about what I’m writing.