Monthly Archives: August 2010

Go Ahead, Be Fat. It’s Not Me You’re Hurting.

I read somewhere recently that people should have the right to be fat. That they shouldn’t be expected to diet or exercise because that is the so-called current fashion. And that the rest of the world shouldn’t judge them for being fat because they have every bit as much right to be fat as anyone else has to be thin.

I don’t know that I necessarily agree with that sentiment. I don’t think that fat people feel that their way of life is threatened by the today’s health nazis. People are going to be fat if they want to be, neither you nor I can stop them. It’s that they don’t feel that they should be judged for it.

I’ve seen it over and over again. I’ve experienced it myself. Just looking at me, people don’t see someone who has changed her lifestyle, someone who eats healthy, someone who tries to workout at least five times a week. They see a fat girl and they make judgments based on what they see. And to me, that’s fine. I don’t particularly care what those people think of me -I’m doing whatever I do for me, for my health, not because society thinks women should be a size 6. Do I think that it’s right that people don’t see the thin girl inside me, they only see the fat girl? I don’t think it’s a matter of right or wrong – they’re going to see whatever they’re going to see. It’s up to me whether or not I let their perspectives and judgments define who I’m going to be.

But others seems to feel differently. Perhaps they are more sensitive? I don’t know – I personally believe in calling a spade a spade. My husband says my honestly straddles the line between being honest and being just plain rude, and I’m okay with that too. I’m fat. I acknowledge that. Being fat doesn’t define everything about me. It might define the shape of my physical body or affect my health, but it doesn’t tell you anything about who I am, at my essence. It doesn’t tell you whether or not I like animals, or whether I love my sisters. But others, they give the word more power than it deserves. They give it the power to hurt them, to make them feel inferior, to make them feel like less of a person.

Sure, people have the right to be fat, to wear pants, to wear their hair like Princess Leia or dress up like idiots at anime conventions. But that doesn’t mean I can’t judge them. That’s my right. That’s your right. I can think whatever I damn well please about another person, but that doesn’t make my thoughts right or wrong. It doesn’t make my thoughts anything other than mere thoughts. But when you let my thoughts affect the way you feel about yourself…well that’s not my issue, is it? That’s yours.

It’s not a question about whether people have the right to be fat. It’s not a question about whether or not I have the right to judge them for being fat. It’s about self-esteem and how you perceive yourself and maybe you’re not as okay with your body as you say you are. Maybe you aren’t as comfortable in your corporeal prison as you claim, but you know how hard it’s going to be to change, but you aren’t ready to accept the responsibility for staying fat, so you blame society and say that they don’t accept you fat, when really, it’s you who doesn’t accept you because you’re not happy being fat either.

Or maybe you really are okay with being fat. You’ve made peace with your body and the way you look and feel. In which case, you don’t care what I’m thinking about you when I see you ordering two Big Mac meals, both super-sized. Right?

You can’t have it both ways. It’s not a question about whether you have the right to be fat. I can’t stop you if you want to be fat. But don’t expect me to turn my mind off when I see you riding around in an electric scooter at the grocery store. I’m allowed to judge you – that’s my right. Just remember that whatever I’m thinking – that’s about me, not you. It has nothing to do with you. It doesn’t affect you. Unless you let it.

Eyes on the Prize

There are so many names for it, so many excuses, reasons I could give, justifications I could make. The bottom line? I’ve been slacking off – big time. Last week, I only got to the gym once and I canceled my session with my personal trainer. I’ve gotten lazy – instead of fixing myself good things to eat, I’ve been taking the easy way out. I had a mini-binge over the weekend – we made s’mores with Caramello bars and I ate three. On the one hand, I knew it wasn’t the end of the world and I refused to beat myself up over it. But on the other hand, I feel like this is indicative of the way I’ve been backsliding out of my good eating habits. I feel like, in the past week, I’ve gone from 90-95% diet compliance to maybe 80% compliance, and the number on the scale reflects that.

I feel like there are a couple of reasons that I’ve been eating the way I have. After finishing Women, Food, and God, I started to question whether I really needed to be following such a strict and restrictive diet. After all, according to the book, people on highly restrictive diets are more likely to fall off the wagon and binge because they feel deprived. Though I was doing well and not really experiencing any carb cravings, there were times I missed cakes, cookies and bread.

After this weekend, I’m not sure that I actually miss cakes, cookies and bread. I think that I miss the feelings I used to associate with eating them and making them. I miss baking chocolate chip cookies with my mother-in-law and little sister. I miss the bonding experience, the stories shared – I miss the process and the experience of making them. I think I’ll look into baking with almond flour so that I won’t have to give up that part of my life as the weather cools and my thoughts turn to baking.

And honestly, my diet hasn’t been that restrictive. The idea of living paleo/primal is more restrictive than the actual practice. I eat right most of the time, but I still treat myself. I don’t feel that I’ve denied myself anything – instead of eating out, I make a delicious dinner at home and invite people over. Instead of dessert at the restaurant, I make a batch of homemade creme brulee for the family. I still get the sweets that I love – I just get them in moderation. I usually allow myself one s’more when the family gets together – not three.

I also thought about how I’ve changed my diet – from eating cereal and bread to eating eggs, meat and vegetables. I think I’ve made the right decision. Ignore things like hormones, insulin and labels like paleo and just focus on the numbers for a moment. Fruit (especially berries) and vegetables pack more nutritional bang for the buck than grains or legumes. Yes, perhaps the paleo/primal lifestyle is an extreme version, when I look back at my old life and the utter lack of vegetables, I have to think that everyone would benefit from swapping out some of the grains and legumes they consume for veggies.

I just need to refocus my eyes on the prize and stop comparing my weight loss to that of others. I know my body. I know I’ll lose 2-3 lbs a week when I work out regularly and eat right. I know my weight loss will stall when I do not. I’m never going to be the kind of person who can lose 15 lbs in two weeks – I didn’t gain my weight like that and I don’t see myself losing it like that. And I need to remember that I’m in this for the long haul. This is a lifestyle change, not a temporary thing. A mini binge of three s’mores over the weekend does not a crisis make – nothing has been derailed, nothing is ruined.

Hey! Hey you! Eat well, work out, stop freaking out over things beyond your control and keep your eyes on the prize!

Review: Women, Food and God by Geneen Roth

After a recent conversation with a friend at the local book store, I decided to buy and finish Geneen Roth’s Women, Food, and God. I’d picked up a copy a month or so ago and read enough to find it intriguing but not necessarily purchase-worthy. The book has been all over as of late, not to mention that Ms. Roth was on Oprah promoting her book – which I should mention was not a ringing endorsement for me (I am generally not the demographic of Oprah’s book clubs). But that conversation, and seeing mentions of the book on several of the blogs I regularly read, made me decide to buy a copy to see if it would make a difference to my own weight loss journey.

I went in with an open mind, but I honestly didn’t expect to get much out of Women, Food & God. I have not been overweight for all of my life and I did not consider myself to be a compulsive eater. I wasn’t sure that the advice in this book would really pertain to me. Also, I am not only not religious, I am also not very spiritual. I believe in the beauty of something great and inexplicable – a vast mystery, if you will, but beyond that, there is no God in my life. Raised Punjabi Sikh, I have struggled with my lack of faith in the face of others’ faiths all of my life. But Geneen Roth’s version of spirituality is one that I can live with. Focusing on spirituality over religion, she delves into the great mystery of one’s self, tearing down walls and preconceptions until nothing remains but the natural wonder of seeing your first rainbow. But what, you may ask, does this have to do with food?

Ms. Roth posits that our relationship with food is, in its essence, a microcosm of our relationship with our lives. She points out that people lose and gain vast amounts of weight in hopes of achieving a version of their perfect self, only to fail over and over again. The problem is not knowing how to lose weight – the problem is deeper and lies withing why we eat. She speaks of dieting as an almost religious institution – one with suffering, penance and failure. It’s a vicious cycle and for most compulsive eaters, we need the constant cycle of dieting and failing our diets. She talks about two different kinds of diet – the Permitters and the Restricters and how we can fall into either or both categories. I, myself, am mostly a Restricter.

As children, we form necessary defenses against the world around us. As adults, we are strong enough to deal with whatever life throws at us, but most of us still retain those childhood defense mechanisms. We avoid dealing with whatever we see as unbearable, using food and other crutches to avoid dealing with the pain that we fear. By leaving behind these childhood defenses and shedding the identity forged for us by other (by parents, by teachers, by siblings and their manifestation as what she calls “the Voice”), we learn that the intolerable is not so intolerable after all, and that by dealing with these issues and moving forward with our new identities we can emerge as better, more whole people, who know longer need to use food for anything other than nourishment.

    I expected this book to be a bit “hippy-dippy” for my taste, but overall, I was pleasantly surprised to find lessons that I could relate to and use within my own life. One of her examples, in particular, really resonated with me – I, like so many, spend so much of my time waiting for my life to truly begin. My life will start: when I’m thin, when I’m successful, when I get the job I want, when I finally have enough money. My excuses are a dime a dozen and at the same time, the rest of my life is being frittered away. Instead of waiting to be what I want, Ms. Roth advises that we need to learn to enjoy where we are at right now instead of just tolerating it. We need to immerse ourselves in the small pleasures, in the small rituals, in the tastes and the smells of what’s happening right now. This mindfulness, in everything, is her key to success, not only in dieting, but in life, itself.

    Ms. Roth spends a great deal of time talking about the spirituality of life, of self, of food, but Iwished that she had talked more about the process. Yes, I found myself saying, I understand that I need to break down my perception of self based on the criticism of others. I need to treat myself with love and kindness. I need to learn to live in the moment, to eat in the moment, to tune into whatever my body is telling me. But how? I need to be told how to do these things, and in this, other than joining on of her many retreats, Ms. Roth is not as forthcoming. She does give her reader some very useful guidelines for mindful eating and spends some time talking about meditation and inquiry techniques, but beyond that, I was left stranded, needing more specific direction.

    Ms. Roth assures you that by eating whatever you want, you will lose weight. And you won’t eat hot fudge sundaes for every meal of the day because you’ll come to learn, that’s not what your body wants. But she doesn’t go into nutrition or exercise, and I feel that she neglects a whole realm of important issues for those wanting to get down to a healthy weight/existence. In fact, she doesn’t really talk about health at all. In all of the talk of spirituality, mindfulness and learning to love one’s self, there is little mention of physical health or strength. I’m supposed to believe that when I learn to listen to my body, it will tell me if it needs spinach for iron or milk for calcium.

    Overall, I would recommend this book to everyone – not just those trying to lose weight or struggling with eating. I think there are important lessons in this book that can be applied to many different areas of one’s life. But I would also caution that you take everything you read with a grain of salt. Yes, mindfulness is a wonderful thing and in the long run, it will help you get to where you want to be. But, in focusing on your spiritual self, don’t give up on everything else. I say, if counting calories works for you, count them – they will help you relearn portions and nutrition information. If you’re a gym rat, and you feel better after a mid-day workout, then do it – physical activity is good for your bones, for your heart. Like everything else in life, there are no hard and fast rules – that is why she sets forth food guidelines instead of food rules – take what you can from this book and use it, but don’t forget everything else that has also worked for you. It worked for you for a reason – don’t abandon it altogether just because Oprah endorsed “the next big thing” on her show.

    Disclaimer – yes, this is a review. But no one paid me for my opinion or anything else. I even bought the book myself at Sam’s Club.

    Why Do You Want To Lose Weight?

    I want to lose weight because:

    • I don’t want to die before it’s my time.
    • I want to look good on my husband’s arm at fancy dinner parties.
    • I’d like to be able to run a half-marathon, maybe even a full one.
    • I want to be able to bare my midriff and be comfortable with it.
    • I want to be on top during sex and not worry about how I look.
    • I want to be a healthy example to all of the children in my life.
    • I don’t want to be on high blood pressure medication for the rest of my life.
    • I’m sick of buying clothes with X in the size.
    • I don’t want to worry about breaking a chair when I sit down.
    • I want to love the way I look naked.
    • I want to be able to ride a roller coaster without being afraid of getting stuck in the seat.
    • I want to be able to wear short shorts.
    • Eddie Bauer charges more for plus size clothing.
    • I’m sick of my father making fun of my weight behind my back.
    • I’d like to be able to buy more than just beautiful shoes.
    • When I have a baby, I want to give it a healthy place to grow.
    • Right or not, society treats thin people better than fat people.
    • I don’t want to have long hair because I have to “balance out my body”.
    • I want to be able to buy a good bra for less than $75.
    • I want to have a waist again.
    • And I want jeans that actually fit my waist and hips.
    • Those little elevator pods that take you to the top of the St. Louis Arch are supposed to fit five people and they aren’t very big.
    • There are so many beautiful dresses that I want to wear.
    • I want to be able to wear pretty bras again.
    • I want to climb to the top of Monk’s Mound without being severely winded.
    • When the zombie apocalypse comes, they always eat the fat, slow people first.
    • I want to be able to ride 10 miles effortlessly whenever I want.
    • I want my husband to be able to physically pick me up if he wants to.
    • The next time we go to Gatlinburg, I want to walk to the top of Clingman’s Dome with everyone else.
    • I’m sick of keeping everyone awake with my loud snoring.
    • I don’t want to see abdominal fat on a corpse at Bodyworlds and think, ohmigosh that’s me.
    • I want to be able to sleep all the way through the night.
    • I don’t want a dowager’s hump anymore.
    • I don’t want to know what the term “chub rub” means anymore.
    • Because I’m fat and I no longer want to be.

    The Birthday Cupcake

    Birthdays have always been difficult for me. As a child, I quickly learned that my birthdays and other holidays weren’t like those of other children. My birthdays and other gift-receiving holidays have always been a source of disappointment for me – they set me up for expectations that could never be reached. My parents were funny about gift giving. Most of the time, presents were something you actually needed – like a winter coat. But I was forever being promised wonderful things that I wanted, and that I never would receive. A go-cart, a tree house – my father would promise me the world, but would never deliver.  As I grew up, I stopped looking forward to birthdays – they inevitably brought up arguments about money and spoiled children and how, no matter what I did, I would never be good enough to make them love me. Birthdays became like every other day, no, worse than every other day, because I still wanted to expect something wonderful.

    That carried over into my adult life. Every August, my inner child raises her hopes, dreaming of the best birthday she’s ever had. And I admit to coddling that inner child – I would give her anything to make her happy for just one fleeting moment, to make her forget 30 years of disappointment. This year, she wanted a cupcake.

    This coming Monday – the 23rd, which is also my 31st birthday, begins my fifth week of living Paleo. Since that thoroughly unsatisfying incident with that piece of cake, I haven’t eaten a single cupcake. I’ve been by that bakery dozens of times (it’s right next to the coop where I get my groceries), and I’ve even been inside once (I didn’t get anything), but I haven’t eaten a single cupcake. I used to love their cupcakes – they were the gold standard of cupcakes, the kind that every kid wants served at their birthday party.

    For my birthday, I decided that I would eat a cupcake – just one perfect iced cupcake from my favorite bakery. And so, tonight, at the family birthday party thrown for myself and three others, after a delicious dinner, I ate a cupcake. I deserved a cupcake – for my birthday, for my hard work, for my dedication to good health, for abstaining from all of those “bad” foods for four weeks, and for my weightloss success. All of those thoughts were swirling in my head as I ate that delicious cupcake. It was chocolate with blue and red swirled icing and it was delicious – no chemically bitter taste (though in retrospect, the cake itself was a bit dry). I was tempted to eat another, but I didn’t.

    And then I was violently ill. So sick to my stomach that I had to leave the party to return to the safety of my own home, so sick I almost couldn’t make it home before I threw up the contents of my stomach. Shivering and shuddering, drenched in a cold sweat – I knew it was that damn cupcake. And right then and there, I decided that that moment of sweetness on my tongue had not been worth it. That I didn’t need a cupcake to celebrate my weight loss, or to reward myself for abstaining from “bad” food. I didn’t need a cupcake to make myself feel loved on my birthday, and all that hard work was, in itself, it’s own reward and better than any stupid cupcake could ever be.

    I’m sorry that I can’t stop deceiving myself into thinking that a cupcake is something that it’s not. And I don’t know that even now, armed with the knowledge that a cupcake will make me sick, that will be enough to make me turn down the next cupcake that crosses my path. After I felt better, I went back to the party, and there, sitting on the counter, were the rest of the cupcakes. I didn’t eat one, but even knowing that it would probably make me violently ill, I still seriously thought about having another one. It’s hard to shake that feeling of “I deserve it” even when I know I actually deserve better than that. That cupcake doesn’t love me anymore than my parents did, and it won’t make up for all the love my inner child still seeks. I feel so “touchy-feely” putting in those terms, but in those words lies truth.

    I might always struggle with birthdays. They may turn out to be an extension of the myriad of other problems I have receiving and accepting affection that ties into my self-esteem problems. But that is a long term issue that I will no doubt have to tackle over and over again every time August rolls around. That cupcake, on the other hand, isn’t about my birthday, or how much everyone loves me, or how much I love myself. It’s just a cupcake. It’s icing and cake made with flour and other things that I no longer eat. And eating it will make me sick. And it’s not a special treat or something wonderful if it makes me sick, if it destroys my health and works against the goals I have set for myself. Easier said than done, I will no doubt eat several more cupcakes that result in several more trips to the bathroom before my body learns what my mind has already realized.

    Happy birthday to myself. This year, I give myself something better than a cupcake because I deserve better than a stupid cupcake. I give myself the realization that I deserve something better. The lesson will take time to take root, but then again, I’m only 31 on Monday. I’ve still got my entire life ahead of me. I give myself that realization too – I’ve got nothing but time to live the life I want. That I deserve. And that means no more cupcakes, for birthdays, or anything else.