Are You Talking To Me?

For anyone who has ever been to New York City, you’ll understand that pedestrians flood the streets and sidewalks and can be expected to be seen everywhere- all of the time. So imagine my surprise when I’m crossing a busy intersection (26th St and 6th Ave), perfectly within my appropriate time to cross a street, and a car comes blindly whizzing around a left turn. For those of you who don’t actually know me, I’m not easily shaken by moron drivers. I’ve had cabbies try to intimidate me, busses honk at me… but when it’s my turn to walk, I know it and I take it. Nevertheless, the speed at which this guy was flying towards me, made even my pedestrian nerves of steel hesitate in my tracks. Without much thought I threw my hands in the air and cried out ‘Seriously?!’… And wouldn’t you know it, the driver (in his early twenties) rolled his eyes at his friend in the passenger seat and then called out ‘Move that Fat Ass, Sugar’.

While he is clearly a novice at slinging cowardly insults from his car window, I was still enraged by the standard I’ve observed for criticizing someone of a specific gender. When I see people criticizing men, they hurl insults that reflect that person’s intelligence. I’m sure we can all think of times we’ve seen an upset woman calling a man a fool, stupid, or useless. Men are attacked on their competence, their ability to contribute to society. I suppose this is how we establish and judge their worth.

However, women are attacked on their appearance. Perhaps that is still what we gauge a woman’s value to be determined by. Women are called fat and ugly when under siege. Whether they be politicians, pop artists or that annoying coworker two cubicles down, it’s the go-to smear. Today was a perfect example, I insinuated the driver was an idiot, he jumped straight to a derogatory comment about my butt. Tragically typical.

Sadly this isn’t my first experience with this type of response. Last year I was at a concert, and I was trying to get to the aisle. On my way out, the couple I passed groaned a bit. When I returned, and politely said ‘Excuse Me’ the man put his hands up and said ‘WHOA, YOU CAN’T FIT THROUGH HERE’ and proceeded to puff out his cheeks making it clear that he meant I couldn’t fit because I was simply- too fat. I pushed through as he made obnoxious sound effects and I tried desperately to hide the tears when I got back to my seat.

Now, let’s be clear about something. Yes, I do have personal battles with my weight which I find to be fairly typical among women. However, I still have an ‘average’ sized body. I don’t need to shop in stores of extended sizes, I fit very comfortably in airplanes and movie theatre seats. To my knowledge when someone describes me to their friends they never use words like ‘She was the fat one with brown hair’. Yet on multiple occasions, perfect strangers have slung hateful slams against my appearance and weight.

Why is it such an obvious condemnation against a woman? If someone were to call me stupid I would laugh in their face and wouldn’t think twice about it. The comment strikes no nerve with me, I would give it the same significance as someone saying ‘Hey, you’re purple!’ It is that ridiculous of a notion. But someone saying, ‘Damn, get your fat ass out of the way… Don’t try fitting through here, Tubb-o… What did you say? I don’t speak cow…’ That is enough to make a strong, confident woman like me crumble into a mass of teary self-loathing. Can someone please tell me how this has come to be? Because really, I'm stumped.

Inch by Inch

Today will be my first attempt at measuring myself. In an effort to not be attached to the number on the scale, I have bought a flexible tape measure to have black and white results. I relate the scale to food, but I relate measurements to body. I also have ideals about a ‘dream weight’ that aren’t based on any sort of facts, it’s just a number that sounds really good to me (ahem, 120 lbs). However, I have no real preconceived notion about what my body measurements should be. Of course there’s the thought of having a 28” inch waist… but I have jean sizes for me to know I’m nowhere close to that. However, when it comes to thighs, hips, biceps, etc… the number I find when I measure will just be what it is… and won’t be relative to some ideal that I may never be.

I read that you are not supposed to take measurements more often than monthly as it may take six to eight weeks to notice any change. Apparently people shouldn't expect to see progress more quickly than that and taking measurements more often can be discouraging. This will be hard for me. At first I thought I would take them weekly, but I don’t need any more discouragement than I already have. Why can’t it come off as quickly as it comes on?

My 'A-Ha!' Moment

About a year ago I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to count calories for the rest of my life. I determined I’m one of those people who must keep a log of what I’m eating in order to ever be successful at weight loss and eliminating binges. Honestly, when I am stringent in my food/calorie logging, I do see legitimate results. I also see myself getting resentful of the fact that I have to do such a practice. However, after a frustrating year of counting, and then getting so resentful of needing to count (which inevitably leads to a binge) and so on and so forth, the cycle made me think that maybe there is more to it than originally met the eye.

Then I had an “a-ha” moment. Epiphanies are rare for me, so when one comes along it entirely consumes my mind. I suppose that’s a part of my all or nothing thought process. Every day when I make myself count calories, and log food, and be aware of every single thing I put in my mouth, it leads to a day where I think about food constantly. It’s a never ending thought pattern of what I have had… and what I can still have… but if I have this then I can’t have that.

It leads me to situations where I have to bring my own food, so I’m thinking about food before I go to bed. What do I have time to prepare in the morning before work? How many cups of food fit in this Tupperware? It leads to inner monologues along the lines of: “If I have this for a snack, then I can’t have that for lunch… but if I want to go out for dinner I have to choose the restaurant so that I can look up the nutritional values for each option in advance and then plan out where I can go and what I can have before we get there. What if the person I’m meeting wants to share an appetizer? How do I say no without going into a diatribe about why I have to count calories. They’re naturally thin, they won’t understand. Oh, if they want to share a bottle of wine, I might get drunk which would lead to more eating, and when I’m tipsy my math skills aren’t so sharp and I might not add everything up correctly. And there's all those empty calories in alcohol that I'll never be able to burn off. I’ll say I’m on antibiotics. Crap, I said that last time. Will they remember? But even antibiotics won’t get me out of sharing a dessert… Will I remember everything I ate so that I can write it down? Did I weigh myself this morning? I can’t weigh myself when I get home because that will be inconsistent. Maybe I just won’t go out for dinner. Maybe I can say I have to work late, and then when I go home I’ll just eat something with a label on it so I know for sure. Ice cream has a label on it… I hate this.”

Losing weight has a very simple, specific and proven formula. Burn more calories than you consume. If I don’t log everything, and just make healthier choices, will that help? If I free myself from logging will I be able to not think about food every second and rediscover what it feels like when hunger makes me think of food as opposed to always having food in the back of my mind?

My first attempt at logging what I ate was when I was ten years old. It was a New Year resolution. I distinctly remember being pleased by how reasonable the calories were in minute white rice, and with barely any calories in soy sauce. That lasted about six weeks. Keep in mind, I started doing the Jane Fonda workout when I was four. I would lay a towel on the floor and use that as my exercise mat. My whole life when I would see family that I hadn’t seen in a while the first thing they would do was hug me, and then look at me up and down and tell me whether I had lost or gained weight. I wish that one day, I will live a life where this isn’t at the forefront of my self-image and worth.

Not Now, I'm Eating

I had the privilege of spending the weekend with someone who had lost- and kept off- 100 lbs. She spoke a lot about the compulsion to eat and how it's similar to all of the other compulsive, destructive behaviors that she sees in her family. She referenced substance abuse, band fanaticism, and workaholic behaviors. She was so inspiring and specifically mentioned how important it is to dig deep and discover WHY we eat.

I spent the weekend doing a lot of soul exploration when it comes to my relationship with food. I knew some things already, that I eat when I'm bored, or to celebrate, or when I'm feel defeated or guilty. The thing that surprised me most is that I eat to procrastinate. In my family, eating has been considered sacred time. After extremely long hours, my mom would decompress over a late dinner. It was always important in our family culture that you not upset or stress someone while they were eating. We regularly heard 'Let them eat in peace'. I realized when there are things I don't want to do I procrastinate by preparing, eating and digesting food. I use this tactic for everything from dishes, to the gym. I even had to fight the urge to go prepare myself a hot dog so that I didn't have to get right to blogging!

Seriously?

So now that I know this about myself, what am I going to do about it? My initial plan of attack is to do things the second I think about them. When the dryer buzzes, I will immediately fold the clean laundry. When the thought of going to the gym first occurs to me, I will get dressed and go rather than eating something and then rationalizing that it's dangerous to work out on a full stomach and that's why I 'should' wait. Just do it. A little dated, but appropriate. Wish me luck, I'll let you know how it goes.

What About Him?

I was listening to a conversation on my commute home. A man was talking to a female friend about his wife who has been struggling to lose weight. He was saying that he didn't know how to support her through her lows, which usually included depression. The woman clarified that the wife wanted to lose weight for herself, and not because of something he had said. She went on to explain how personal weight loss is for women. It's a struggle, frequently filled with wavering self worth. Having him ask his wife simple questions like 'Are you going to the gym today?' can feel like a personal attack to her. If he says he doesn't want to get involved that could lead to her feeling abandoned. If he talks to her the way he talks to his buddies on the golf course, she would completely shut down to that mocking, tough guy, coach approach.

As she was explaining all of this, I couldn't believe my ears. As an outsider it sounded so ridiculous that this husband seemed to be in a lose-lose situation. But at the same time I completely understood everything she was saying about the wife's perspective. I felt it rang true to my own life. When I get all amped up and start going to the gym every day for about three weeks straight, my boyfriend will say he's proud of me. And honestly, I get so frustrated by it! I feel like, I don't want him to be proud of me for working out because I know that I always eventually stop working out and then I feel like I'm disappointing him. What's worse is he will occasionally congratulate me on my progress by taking me to a lovely meal, which just reinforces my issues with food as a reward.

So what are guys to do? There are really good guys out there who love us no matter what, and yet somehow we put them in these impossible situations. I know it's not intentional. But that doesn't make it any easier on them. Considering how hard it is for us to deal with the daily battle, I don't know if we have the bandwith to consider his feelings about it as well.

Oops, I Did It Again

So... today didn't go so well. I don't know what my problem is. I love having alone time, but I use it so irresponsibly! It's like I cram down three bowls of food in a race to finish before my boyfriend gets home from work, then when he arrives I act like I am magically full after munching on two triscuits. And I know my thighs are getting thicker. No bueno.

Oh, and yesterday I drank a can of soda, just cause it was there and I wasn't really thinking about it. So my whole 'No liquid calories for a week' goal didn't exactly happen.

I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. But when you are your own judge and jury, how hard is appropriate? I don't want to entirely hinder any chance of success by dismissing it entirely- but at the same time I also don't want to be so hard on myself that the disappointment serves as another 'trigger'. Maybe I set the wrong goal. Maybe I need to set goals that require being more consciously present. Maybe I just need to tie a string around my finger. Maybe I have no idea why I do what I do or how to change it. Yeah, today definitely wasn't a good day.

Decisions, Decisions

Yesterday was okay, and today wasn’t bad. It’s constant decision making. I have to decide not to get that iced soy chai latte from Starbucks in order to stick with this week’s goal of no liquid calories. However, on the level beyond that, I have to constantly decide that I’m not going to binge. When I was alone in my room last night I thought I would be okay simply resolving to not do it for the rest of the day. But then I realized even that was a bit much for me. I had to decide not to do it by the hour, by the half hour, then by the minute. I would set goals like ‘I’m not going to go get a snack until commercial break’. Then, when commercials came ‘I’m not going to go get a snack until the end of the show’. And once the show ended ‘I’m not going to go eat something until I win a game of solitaire on my phone’.

Why is it so hard?

Why isn’t it enough to resolve to not going to get something to eat simply because I’m not hungry?

I did fairly well, after having a balanced, tasty and satisfying dinner, I only snacked on a tortilla and then a granola bar. But even then I wondered to myself why that was? Even though it's a small amount compared to what I've been know to inhale during a binge, there was no need for it. I wasn’t bored, I wasn’t emotional, and most importantly I wasn’t hungry.

I once heard a recovering alcoholic speak on the day he received his 12 year chip. He was saying that even after 12 years he has to resist the urge to pick up the Jack Daniels. I understand the difference between addiction and compulsions. I am not going to downplay the seriousness of addictions such as alcoholism and other substance abuses. I’ve seen the effects of that ravage families and do irreparable damage to relationships. But I also think compulsive disorders should not be dismissed. In some unique ways there are challenges to compulsive disorders specifically because they are things we cannot live without. I often think that if it weren't necessary to eat I would be able to get in the habit of not eating at all. Of course I wouldn’t do that because it is unhealthy to exchange one disorder for another that is equally deteriorating to your health. But at the same time I think I have an innate ‘all or nothing’ mentality that leads to binging. I refuse to blame my mother for teaching me to clean my plate. But surely, there has to be something out there that can recondition my brain to feeling like I accomplished the task of eating when I’m simply satisfied. The search continues.

One Day at a Time

I have a feeling I’m like a lot of people out there. Every new year… and birthday… and vacation booking… I swear up and down that this will be the time I eat healthy and make a true lifestyle change. I feel like I’ve tried it all. I’ve counted calories, points, and carbs. I’ve turned to yoga, marathon training, dance classes. It always seems to go great for a while. So great, as a matter of fact, that I start proselytizing the method of the moment to whoever will listen. I’ve been known to say things like ‘now THIS actually works! Everyone should do this. If it works for me it can work for anybody.’

Yet time and time again, I fall off of the proverbial wagon. This happens because one of two things inevitably occur:

1. I reach my goal! I’m so damned proud, I celebrate with something that I’ve been depriving myself of. Usually a double western bacon cheeseburger and a quart of peanut butter cookie dough ice cream.
2. I start gung ho with an incredibly restrictive cold turkey plan. Without fail it’s such a huge transition that by day three I realize there is no way I can possibly succeed. I prove that success is impossible by classically sabotaging the new healthy me with a double western bacon cheeseburger and a quart of peanut butter cookie dough ice cream.
   

I’ll casually mention this success-fail routine to my friends, and they say things like ‘Everybody does that, it doesn’t sound like a problem to me’.

And that’s why I came to this blog- it feels like a problem.

When I fall off the wagon, it’s in family size servings. I have been known to eat an entire pot of spaghetti, or three bowls of cereal and a half of a watermelon. I’ve eaten a tray of brownies, washed it down with a 2 liter of soda. When I’ve been home alone, I’ve eaten until it hurt. I’ve had food hangovers. Weekends are the hardest where I don’t have the distraction of work and being around my colleagues to keep me self-controlled.

I had such an episode this last weekend.

I want to give it another try, and hopefully this time will stick. I’m going to try and take it slow. I’m not going to follow a fad. I’m not going to torture myself as if I’m the only one that has ever felt this way or had this type of struggle.

Sometimes it’s hard to get any sort of support for what I feel is disordered eating. Because I’m not starving myself or forcing myself to vomit, it doesn’t seem to be classified as a ‘cry for help’. Also, because I’m not obese, I think my community underestimates the destructive consequences of my actions.

I’ve set my goal this week: Eliminating Liquid Calories. I drink soda if it’s around me even though I don’t like it very much, and I’m a self-described starbucks-aholic. If I can stick to iced tea with Splenda or straight water for a week, I think it will be a good step in the right direction.