The Fat Diaries: "My Rule Stopped Me Eating 40 Oreos In One Go"
Okay, for those who asked, here's the slightly painful chronicle of the various struggles and victories with my weight.
In September, 2004, I got married at 23 and elected to stay at home for a year to "further my art career." Unfortunately, what I ended up doing instead was eating. I was a new housewife with a lot of spare time, so I started cooking. I cooked cakes, pies, cookies, breads, scones, anything sweet and full of carbs. Then I ate it all in one sitting.
That very same year I was learning to shop for myself. Suddenly I didn't have anyone standing over me saying I couldn't have stuff! Reese’s Puffs cereal, BBQ Fritos, anything by Little Debbie, all candies, it all went into the cart. It was like some horrible restraint had been lifted. I was free to be the adult I envisioned in my head as a kid; the kid who said, “When I grow up, I'm going to eat Pop-Tarts all day!" The only one to say no was me, and I had no inclination to stop myself.
I was also bored. All of my friends were still at school or had gotten jobs. My husband, Joe, was working very hard at a 10-hour-a-day job. I had no life. I surfed the internet, I watched TV. When I felt like it, I did some artwork, but not a lot. I wasn't feeling very inspired and longing for something to do. I ate.
In one year, I put on 30 lbs. I was now at 250lbs and steadily climbing. Everything wore me out. Stairs were a nightmare. I was depressed and unhappy and disgusted with myself. There was one particular epiphany I had when I had bought a double boiler so I could chocolate-coat a box of Twinkies and eat them all. It hit me like the proverbial lighting bolt. This was going to kill me. I needed help.
One Sunday in the church flier Joe and I saw an ad for a nutritionist. After a brief discussion, we both decided I should schedule an appointment. Jen (Tumpty-thingummy. Can't remember her name) and I had a long discussion about my eating habits. I was dubious at first, I was expecting her to tell me the same stuff my mother told me about counting calories and that I need to be outside all day.
To my utter shock, she didn't. She started asking me about how I felt about food. When do I feel most hungry? What time of day? What's going through my head? Am I in front of the TV? What do I like best about food? She started to talk about not what I ate, but why I ate. I had never thought about that sort of reasoning. I always thought I ate because I was a human pig-girl with no sense of shame. It wasn't until she started talking about some of the psychological stuff behind the other (less fashionable) kind of eating disorder.
First of all, Jen didn't drag out that tired old chart (the bane of all big girls), the BMI index. She said plainly that it was bull. It was designed in the 1700s as a way to measure the weight of horse jockeys. That health insurance companies are using it as a gospel-truth about people's health is such a con. There are a lot more factors that determine whether a person is healthy. Heredity is one of them, and here was the thing: She said plainly that if my goal was to look like Heidi Klum (which, let’s face it, it was) then I was in for a rude awakening. Not a realistic goal.
First of all, as Jen explained, if your goal is not realistic then you're going to get discouraged very quickly. By setting a weight goal of 100 lbs I've set myself up for failure before I've even started and guaranteed that I'm going to either quit within the week or become very depressed. Given my genetic makeup, my ideal goal was a sturdy 175 lbs. Anything below 150 would be dangerous. I would never be a size 2. The sooner I accepted this, the sooner I'd be in the right mindframe. The point is to get healthy, not, "how can I get into America's Next Top Model auditions?" I needed a lot of time to wrap my head around this, and I'm still coping to accept the truth.
The first step (of many) was to ditch the fake food. Seriously folks. Made all the difference. Here was the tip. Before you buy anything, look at the ingredients list. If you see lots of things you can't pronounce like "hydrenalatedoxyhydroxitundinalfemons" Put it back on the shelf.
There was some leeway, I was allowed one or two chemicals, and they had to be at the very back of the list, but the key was real food. I also had to switch out starches with whole grains. This has been easier in the last few years since you can get almost everything with whole grains.
Another thing was to allow myself treats. If you go overboard and forbid any treats you will snap and you will go nuts. It started out with rationing cookies (I may have two cookies at 3 pm then two more at 8) but eventually I just had to stop buying them. This is not to say that I don't eat cookies, but I have rules.
1. Except for rare occasions, I do not buy cookies.
2. I am allowed to eat any cookies that I bake from scratch. (I almost never bake cookies, because it's such a hassle. I've never had a problem with this rule yet.)
3. I may eat cookies at parties or other events when other people bring them/bake them.
Just these 3 steps have prevented me from sitting on the couch and eating 40 Oreo cookies in one go. Because I could have cookies, I didn’t need cookies. A major step for me. There were lots more things. I had to keep a diary, I had to use a hunger scale; it was a major lifestyle overhaul and I could not have done it by myself.
It wasn't a picnic (heh-heh unintentional pun!). My body reacted badly to the food at first and I felt sick a lot as I’d stopped consuming the chemicals my stomach had been used to. The weight did not drop off either. I was pregnant or nursing for about 2 years straight during this time so the weight stayed put. But six months after I had my second kid I started to notice the scales dropping.
At first I thought it was just because I hated the hospital food I'd been eating for 7 weeks (I had some complications with kid no. 2) but then the weight kept slipping. It was a steady slip, about 2-3 pounds a week until I actually got below the 200 lb mark, something I hadn't done since high school! Also as the fat started to go, I found myself able to do more activities. I could chase after my son for more than two minutes. I could climb up the three-stories to my apartment without collapsing on the floor gasping for breath.
I'm still not near my goal weight (I seem to be hovering around 185lbs,) but it's a darn sight nearer than I ever thought I would get, back in 2005, when I topped the scales at 265. It's helped me be a better parent, wife, writer, artist, and anything else that required energy and deep breaths. It's still hard. It's a bit like being a recovering alcoholic in that you're never entirely cured. You have to stay on your toes and be able to recognize when you're slipping into old habits. I've gone nuts and pigged out more than once, but as L.M. Montgomery wrote, "Tomorrow's always fresh, with no mistakes in it." You get back on the horse.
NOTE: I am not a nutritionist or qualified in any way to give advice on this subject. The preceding should be looked at as a journal entry not a treatment plan. If you or someone you love is having serious problems, don't go it alone. Get help. See a nutritionist or join a program. That way you're not blindly groping in the darkness. There's a guide with a light in front of you.
Monica Marier’s “Fat Diaries” will appear on FrumForum each Friday.