One Way or Another

One way or another a problem with food was going to pry it's way into my life.
Over the last few days I've been trying to figure out when my obsession with the things I put in my body began.  If you've been reading for awhile, you know the first time I realized I was bigger than the other girls in my neighborhood was in 3rd grade.  My friends and I were running through the sprinklers when I noticed my thighs were bigger than my friends' legs.  As a little 8-year-old I didn't think 'oh I'm too big, I need to eat less,' in fact, at that point, I didn't even tie food and the size-of-thighs together.

No, no - my obsession with calories, fat grams, and exercise didn't begin until my Freshman year in high school.  I was in dance - I had to wear tight jazz pants and a spaghetti strap t-shirt next to my stick-thin co-dancers (these were flawless girls - one of them was even Miss Texas last year).  Plus the whole "fat incident" which I wrote about here.

That year I only ate things under 5 grams of fat - slim fast bar for breakfast and for lunch, then low-fat frozen dinner.  I didn't eat chocolate, sugar, pork, cheese - and the list went on.  When I got home from school I would walk five miles - then I would spend two hours dancing.

Two years later I tried Atkins.  That's when my bad relationship with food went to the other end of the spectrum - my binging began.  The rest is history.

My relationship with food is deeper than just 'I love it and can't stop eating.'  In fact, that's probably the case for most of us.  I've realized a food disorder is not confined to anorexia or bulimia.  It seems the world is not as quick to accept binge eating/overeating/compulsive eating as a disorder.  At least for me, there is something in my mind that will not allow me to just be friends with food.  Instead, I've been in a constant battle with food for over ten years - first it was undereating, now it's overeating.  One way or another this food disorder, bad relationship with food, obsession with food - whatever you want to call it - was going to run my life.  Now, it's time I fix it.

Opinions?  Do you qualify your overeating as a disorder?  If not, why?  Which end of the spectrum are you on - anorexia or binging?  Have you ever switched sides?  Any advice on how you are fixing your relationship with food - I need all the help I can get!

 Living Life Moment

Now it's time for the moment I really took life in and enjoyed it.  Believe it or not, it actually happened at work.  I had a great day at work and thoroughly enjoyed writing my show today. I had great stories and great teases!  I was very proud, my anchors even gave me a pat on the back after the show.

Uncomfortable, Comfort Zone

On Monday I weighed in at 154.8.  I cannot express how excited I was to see a 4 after that 15.  I haven't seen that number since I was a senior in high school (and even then it was short-lived, I was on Atkins and as many of us know - that's a disaster!).

154.8.  Just .2 pounds under my wedding weight.  That number 154 is my new best friend - at least, I thought.  So apparently because I've lost the 10 pounds that I am really good at losing I've decided to stop all efforts to lose weight and be healthy.  What is wrong with me?!!

Every single time I've reached 155 (or less!) I lose my mind.  Eating well and exercising are the first to go.  Then I start adding bad foods back to my diet.  Why do I do this?  Am I afraid of being skinny?  Am I sick of dieting?

This is what I'm thinking - I'm the fat girl.  I'm always the fat girl - just a little bit chubbier than all my friends, I wear the biggest size pants, I have the biggest chest, and I am the only one that can't share clothes.  Obviously that's not where I want to be.  Obviously I want to borrow my friend's dress for the wedding I'm going to this weekend.  Obviously I want to go shopping without hiding the number on the pants.  But somehow I can't convince my brain, my heart - something inside me, that being skinny will be good.

I am just so attached to this 'fat girl' persona.  I don't know who I will be without being the fat girl.  What will my place in my groups of friends be?  What if I fail when I try to get a new job?  How can I still be funny without being the funny fat girl.  Everything about me, since I was in 3rd grade, has revolved around the fact that I'm fat.  How can I survive without that?  That's like dying my hair blonde or going gothic.  Right?

I need to throw out my fear.  Somehow I need to move on, be proud, and strong because afterall, being in this "fat girl" comfort zone, is not all that comfortable.

Are any of you afraid to leave your chubbier self behind?  What do you do to remind yourself living a healthy lifestyle is okay?  HELP - before my scale crawls all the way back up to where I started!

The Pie: Part 2

I just wanted to follow up and say I have not eaten any pie. I keep telling myself that I can have pie anytime I want so it's not vital that I have it at this moment! So far it's working, and I'm not adding hundreds of calories in one sitting (but I will, at another time)!

By the way, here's the pie:

The Pie.

I'm about a dozen feet away from the most delicious pie I've ever tasted. There are four slices left, an estimated 2,760 calories. And guess who's guilty of putting the pie in the fridge? Me! I did it.

For the last week or so my husband has been bugging me to make a Marie Callender's pie from a copycat recipe my friend found online. Last week I decided I would make the pie on Monday to celebrate his 6 months clean (yay!).

All week long I've been prepping myself for the temptation. I decided I would eat one slice and let the leftovers sit in my fridge untouched! Yesterday was the day I had prepared myself for. I made the pie without licking the spoon or the bowel. I let the pie sit in the fridge for a full 4 hours before helping myself. I cut the pie into 6 even slices and slowly enjoyed every bite. Now, the hardest part - avoiding the temptation to eat the remaining four slices. So far, so good.

The slice I had last night was sinfully delicious and well worth it - now I'm trying to teach my body that it was enough. I didn't feel guilty when I ate the piece of pie last night. It's okay to eat a slice of pie, it's not okay to eat an entire pie. I want to know that anytime I want a single slice of pie I can have it. I just need to figure out how to only want pie (and other goodies) just once in awhile.

Now, I need to tell you about this pie. My husband and I discovered it at Marie Callender's two weeks ago. In a matter of four days we ate two full pies. I didn't think much of our pie binge until I told my friend about the delicious dessert. She found the aforementioned recipe and made her own.

This is the really crazy part - the day after our conversation she told me she made the pie. I immediately asked her if it was good. She told me she hadn't tasted it yet! What?! She seriously let an entire chocolate pie with Oreo crust sit in her fridge for more than one hour. She explained that it had to be refrigerated for 4 hours, but still, I have been known to eat things way before they're done cooling.

Now this story gets even more bizarre. The next day she brought more than half of the pie into work. She gave the leftover pieces to our co-workers. My jaw dropped. This pie sat in her fridge for more than 48 hours and she managed to eat less than half. I remembered asking myself, Why can't that be me? Why can't I do that?

Well, I want to do that. I want to be unaffected by food. I want to know something's delicious, but not feel like I must have it immediately. This is a great step - I went a week without making it, then I only ate one slice, and now I'm not even feeling like grabbing a slice. I hope this will help me mend my relationship with food. Stupid pie.

One Week Down, 7 To Go

This week seemed like the longest of my life. Work was crazy, my personal life was crazy and I didn't get anything done! How can I be constantly on the move, but still not finish my checklist?

I'm pretty excited about my first week of the Summer Challenge!

Here's my goal report:
1. Lose 2 pounds a day - check!
I actually almost doubled that - losing 3.8 pounds. I now weigh 157! It's a little premature to get excited about this because this is the bottom of my yo-yoing range. This week I really need to prove to myself that I can keep eating healthy and working out.
2. Work out a minimum of 4 times a week - FAILED!
I only worked out twice last week. Less than half of my goal. This week I really need to make it happen and not let myself make excuses.
3. Keep a 100% accurate list of my calorie intake - ALMOST!
I kept track of everything I ate between Monday and Friday. My work schedule on the weekend is overnights and it's hard for me to stay on top of everything. That's hardly an excuse though, and I'll specifically focus on that this week. Even though I didn't write everything down, I'm about 90% positive I stayed within my calories.
4. Only weigh myself on Mondays - FAILED!
Okay, I'm lame. Maybe I should be giving myself grades because an F is harsh. This would be around a C. I weighed myself twice this week.
5. Be able to run 5 miles - SUCCESS!
I ran one mile this week, well on the way running 5 by the end of the week!

Overall I'm pretty proud of myself - I skipped a lot, and I mean a lot, of snacking opportunities. That probably played a huge role in my weight loss.

This Week:
I need to follow through! I'm happy about my weight loss, but I want to prove to myself that I can keep promises I make to myself. This week I will specifically be focused on goal 3 - writing down everything I eat!

My Marriage is Making Me Fat

Since starting this summer challenge (and every time I start any challenge/weight loss plan/diet) my husband seems to have a hankering for junk food.  In just two days he's enticed me with cake, Marie Callender's pie, popcorn, and Ben & Jerry's (twice).  I kid you not.  I said no to everything.  He only ended up buying Ben & Jerry's and popcorn - I watched him eat both. Does he want me to stay fat forever?

When my husband went into rehab for a pain pill addiction the people at the facility advised me to go to my own meetings.  They're meetings for co-dependent spouses and family members called Nar-Anon.  Basically their definition of a co-dependent person is anyone who enables an addict and anyone who will deal with their spouse's addiction just so things don't change.  I threw a fit about not being co-dependent and didn't go to the Nar-Anon meetings (I did go to the intensive outpatient to support my husband, just so you know I am supportive!)

I know my husband loves me and wants me to succeed, but at the same time I think he doesn't want me to change.  That includes changing the way I look.  I think he's worried --at least subconsciously -- that part of my personality will change, maybe I won't love him as much, or will leave him or something.  We've known each other since high school and I've always been yo-yoing around this weight.  In his eyes my weight is tied to who I am, and he doesn't want me to lose that (literally).

For almost all the years I've known my husband he's been addicted to pills unbeknownst to me.  When I found out, I was truly terrified that he would change into a different person without them.  I remember thinking what if the person I married isn't who he really is?  But that wasn't enough for me to risk him dying (see I'm not co-dependent) and I dropped him off at rehab.  I took a chance, and he's about 10X better clean!! 

I guess I'll just have to be "clean" and prove to him I'm the same person.  But seriously, I don't down a pint of lortabs in front of him!

Let the Binging Begin..

Today I was trying to remember where my binge-eating began. It started way after I developed an unhealthy relationship with food.

There are a handful of minor binges, before the real problem began. My first binge happened freshman year of high school. I wouldn't even really call it binge eating because it doesn't even come close to what I did later. My first intentional binge came before weighing in at my first Weight Watchers meeting. I scarfed down two drumstick ice cream cones... but just wait.

It wasn't until two summers later that I began a spiral that would last another six years. That summer I started the Atkins diet. It was such a success - the first week I lost several pounds. I made it to 145 pounds before my senior year of high school started.

If you're reading this you've probably tried every diet imaginable like myself - so you know how Atkins works. Basically, you have to get to ketosis, the stage where your body burns fat for fuel. It takes about two to three days of eating nothing but proteins to get there.

A couple months into my senior year I discovered I could eat a carb here and there and rebound with a quick trip to Ketosis. But then - came one of the worst habit-forming discoveries yet. On Friday nights, after cheering for our football team I could eat anything I saw and gain about 5 pounds. The next day I could continue eating everything, to gain a total of 10 pounds. When Sunday rolled around, I would re-start Atkins, get into Ketosis by Tuesday or Wednesday and lose the 10 pounds by Friday (the next time I had to get into my cheerleading outfit).

I don't think I've ever admitted this - to anyone. I'm still not really admitting it on this anonymous blog - but I did that every. single. week. Ten pounds up, ten pounds down.

Eventually the eating got out of control. When the weekend rolled around I went to the grocery store and blew up to $50 on junk food, food I planned to eat the moment I made it to my car. When I drove out of the grocery store parking lot I even stopped by the Wendy's to grab an order of fries.

Of the several days I did this - I remember one in particular. I stopped by a park on my way home. There I sat in my car and began unloading my grocery bag:

-French Bread
-Donuts
-Fried Chicken
-Potato Wedges
-Doritos
-Pre-made Cookie Dough
-Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Ice Cream
-Wendy's french fries

I sat in my car eating, eating, and eating. Sometimes when I did this I would cry, but not this time. I just ate. I didn't think about how each thing tasted. In fact, I don't even like donuts. I just stuffed it down my mouth like I was the garbage disposal in my kitchen. I just sat there, eating, void of emotion. There was nothing wrong. I was just eating.

I finished with everything I could possibly stuff down my throat and threw the evidence leftovers away. That's when it hit me I had eaten thousands of calories, thousands. But the best part - I had something new to worry about, not what was going on in my life - but the calories I had just consumed.

I've always been outspoken about alcoholism... and have always found it easy to criticize people who "drink their sorrows away" and people who "run away from their problems by drinking." Now I realize, I was doing that -- just without the alcohol. I was doing that with food.

It's been quite some time since I've had a binge like that one. Now they're smaller - they usually consist of a bag of Dove chocolates and another bag of Reese's Peanut Butter cups. Does the fact that it's smaller make it okay? Absolutely not. I'm working on it. I think admitting I have a problem specifically with binging is the first step.

First step - check.

It's Just a Kiss

Just days after my last post (which, by the way I promise to be better about posting) I had started a new diet. It was going to be the time that I quit eating chocolate (among other things.)

On day 2 of my new diet, I was walking from the morning meeting at work when a co-worker offered me a chocolate kiss. I turned the offer down. That's when one of my good friends said, "It's just a kiss." Hmm -- yeah, but...

I am so addicted to food... for me "just a kiss" is like just a drink or just a hit.

One of the people I met in IOP - intensive outpatient - told the group she couldn't imagine not drinking ever again. She said her main goal was to stop drinking as a form of therapy, instead to only drink during social events.

I feel like that, except for with chocolate. How am I ever supposed to give chocolate up? I know in theory I should be able to eat just a kiss and move on with my day. For some reason I can't. For some reason if I eat just a kiss I need a bag of kisses, then I need chips, then I need a cake.

I have no control - and until I gain control I need to quit kisses.