Weighty Matters

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When Eating Runs Amok

on April 3, 2015

I feel a great need to apologize for not posting in quite some time.  It’s been a whirlwind around here, including a five day visit by friends who stayed with me, followed immediately by a business trip.  It’s a busy holiday season in the Keys right now, so I no sooner got home from the trip before I launched into the fray.  Sorry about that, everyone.  I hope you’re all doing well.

Time for some brutal, denial-busting honesty.  I’ve been eating off of my food plan like crazy.  While I’m not in binge mode, I’m definitely eating wayyyy too many carbs and too much sugar, not adhering to my planned meal/snack times, and grabbing food compulsively just because it’s around.  This is full out disease eating.  Not only is it affecting me physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.  I am trying not to freak out, but I’m growing increasingly fearful that I can’t rein myself in, that I’ll gain all of my weight back, that I’m a bariatric surgery failure.  In short, that I suck and am badbadbadbad.

Yes, I know that’s the disease talking, but when my eating runs amok, so do my feelings.

Have I mentioned at any time that I really, really hate having an eating disorder?

Can you fathom how much I resent watching friends and colleagues eat full meals and not gain weight when it sometimes feels like all I have to do is look at a portion of something and the pounds adhere to my body like someone stuck them there with glue.

While maintaining my bright, smiling, positive personality on the outside, inside I am a whining, scared, pissed-off-at-myself, beyotch.  To top it all off, on my trip I wore heels more than I do at home.  They aren’t stilettos or skyscraper height by any means, but even a two-inch wedge puts my knees and hips at a different angle.  I have unaccustomed, random, phantom heel pain – in my left foot, i.e. the opposite of my bad right knee.  Of course pain couldn’t cooperate by at least being on the same side, right?  So, my body also aches and my joints hurt, which makes it that much harder to exercise.

Have I mentioned at any time, that I really, really hate it when I whine?

So, I’m doing what I can do.  I still walk the dogs twice a day.  I am committed to doing my Tai Chi daily, which truly helps by loosening up tightness, keeping my circulation and joint fluid moving, and providing some Zen-like stress relief.

The food?  Well, the food is a different challenge.  At a time like this, a broken jaw could be useful because with it wired I’d be limited to liquids and the occasional mushy meal.

I need to act like a true addict fighting for recovery and Just. Say. No.  No to the candy and other sweets.  No to grabbing extra food that wasn’t planned for.  No to giving up and giving into the disease.

I am not a failure and I refuse to be.  I will not give up the physical recovery I have worked to hard to attain.  I. Will. Not.

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One response to “When Eating Runs Amok

  1. lynnviehl says:

    You can’t learn anything from constant success. You have to fail, lose, mess up and fall down on your face — a lot — to grow and improve. The fact that you’re holding yourself accountable and using it to strengthen your resolve proves that.

    The past weekend I had a really nice day planned: guests for dinner, the family together for Easter, a spectacular meal, etc. Much more than I generally do for Bunny Day, but I wanted to welcome spring. And spring came right to the door — with pitchforks and torches.

    My entree didn’t want to cook properly, the phone ringing all day with calls about another family drama that brought worse news, then people started calling to bail on dinner. I was so stressed out I couldn’t focus, and as a result the beautiful dessert I planned came out of the oven half-burned. I am a great baker, I never burn baking, but there it was: extra-crispy coconut jelly roll. I was ready to toss it all in the trash and go sit on the beach by myself for the rest of the day.

    I got angry but channeled it into getting through the rest. I stopped answering the phone, trimmed off the burned part of the dessert, scaled down the rest of the food I was making, cooked the entree an extra hour, and finally got dinner on the table. It wasn’t spectacular, but it was okay. I didn’t even get angry at the guest who showed up late; I warmed up the food for them. Then I went for a long walk and reflected on my expectations in a world that prides itself on smashing them to smithereens.

    I always want the TV commercial holiday where a loving family gathers with joy and laughs and has a wonderful time. I don’t know who these people are, but they’re not related to me. I have to stop pretending they are. I know better than to get sucked into other people’s dramas, and I have to resist the urge to try to fix everyone. Having a father who was a gifted chef has always put pressure on me to be a great cook when the truth is that (other than baking most of the time) I’m simply never going to be able to cook the way he did.

    Next Easter I think I’ll have the family take me out to dinner. I’ve earned it. 🙂

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