Today’s guest post is written by Heather, who is one my dearest friends. Heather is a Public Affairs Officer with the federal government. She lives in a far out suburb of DC with her husband, two sons, and two cats.
I figure that I have probably gained and lost the same 30 pounds at least four times by now. You’d think that I’d be used to the cycle of denial and deception by now, both in gaining and losing. I certainly can recite my justifications by heart: “I WANT the waffle! I am going to EAT the waffle and don’t you DARE deny me,” my four-year-old alter ego tells me as she sits on my shoulder, arms crossed. Then there’s the policewoman who stands ramrod straight on my other shoulder, billy-club in hand, sternly reminding me that “every bite counts,” and chastising me for my weakness. “If you weren’t so LAZY and did what you should, you’d be skinny by now,” she huffs in exasperation. The two have been at it more now as my ‘fat pants’ are getting too tight and I keep getting asked when my baby is due (he’s two, thankyouverymuch). I try to pretend that it doesn’t bother me but it does, and as I struggle to begin the same self-depriving, self-depricating routine again I realize that something’s gotta change. So that’s why I ignored the eyeball-rolls of my husband and took myself to a nutritional counselor last week. I know that I need to figure out what’s going on between my ears that sends me to food for comfort so that I can be at a healthy weight once and for all. So, with a deep breath and a prayer that my non-reimbursable expense would be worth it, I walked into Dr. D’s office. I had an hour.
Part therapist, part dietician, all doctor, she led me through my thinking. She told me that only two percent of people who go on diets manage to keep the weight off. Two. One, two. Wow.
Okay then. I don’t feel so bad now. But I also have a much greater challenge in front of me than I thought I had. As we continued our conversation I told the doc about the dynamic duo of message-givers and she nodded sagely. Then, she said something enlightening.
It’s just food.
It’s neither good nor bad but (to borrow from Shakespeare) thinking makes it so. Interesting. I also went through my family food history; how my father thought that being fat was about the worst thing you could be; that my brothers called me ‘lady lardbottom’ at dinner with encouragement from my mother when I went for seconds. Funny thing was that I wasn’t struggling with my weight then–I was at my normal healthy weight. I guess these messages were more of a time bomb than a grenade in terms of their impact.
Now, I’m not going to blame them–I make the decisions on what goes into my mouth. But now I have to try to understand why. Doc told me to instruct the cop to be quiet if she can’t be positive and to acknowledge the toddler’s wants with a ‘yes, I hear you’ so that when I make decisions about food I hear silence, and to eat mindfully. I’ve started keeping an ‘after’ journal: “after I go to the gym I feel“ … and then write it. I do the same thing for my fatty-goodness breakfast at work of the bacon, egg and cheese on a croissant: “After I eat a fatty breakfast I feel…” and so on. I am noticing that, for all of my complaining and excuses, I always feel better after I go to the gym, and I always feel worse when I eat something I know won’t be in my best interests. I’m coming to realize that my weight loss will be more than just cutting calories and exercising more, it’s going to be about depersonalizing food and removing it from my options when I am in any kind of elevated mood. I’m going to miss the cupcakes when I‘m stressed; I’m not gonna lie. But I *will* have one when I decide I would like one, and I will remember that it’s just food. Or at least, I will try. I’m still at the foot of this mountain and so far all I’ve done is put on two pounds since I told the cop to be quiet, but at least I’m starting to change. I’m probably not going to get to my pre-baby figure, and that’s okay. But I am going towards a healthier mind in a healthier body and that itself is worth the journey, no matter how long it takes.
It is a struggle. It’s late at night when I start to stuff myself with junk food. I need to stop that and get to the gym!