Food, Inc.

Watching Food, Inc. reminded me of things that I’ve learned in the process of losing weight but don’t always think about so much anymore. The primary one being that it’s expensive to eat well, particularly to eat the sorts of foods recommended for weight loss.

When I graduated college, I swore that I wasn’t going to eat any more fast food – a promise I’ve largely kept except for once in an airport where the only option was McDonald’s. (Although considering how I felt after eating it, I wondered if going hungry might have been the better option, and it’s part of the reason why I now carry ridiculous amounts of food with me when flying.) At the time, I didn’t make this decision out of any ethical or moral beliefs. It was simply that I was sick of eating it, since many times in college I had no choice but to eat fast food.

Instead, I reverted to how I ate when growing up, which involved cooking my own meals. Additionally, as part of my efforts to lose weight, I bought more fresh fruits and vegetables. And I watched with astonishment as my food bill shot up. Even now, I’m rather shocked at how much I spend on food, considering I’m just one person. Given the way our food system works, though, it’s not actually that surprising. As they pointed out in the movie, you can buy a hamburger at some fast food places for $1, but you can’t buy a head of broccoli for that. You’d be lucky to get a single decent-sized apple for that price. Of course if you go the canned/frozen route, you’re in better shape, but from a calorie/cost perspective, you definitely get a better bargain at the fast food places.

Or at least, you do if you don’t factor in all the hidden costs, and realize all the subsidies that farmers get for growing corn and soy, but not other vegetables. They’ve also been put into a position where many need to use pesticides and artificial fertilizers, all of which has a hidden cost in the amount of fuel needed to transport it and the impact on the human body.

It’s not just the produce, though. I’ve also made a decision, this time for ethical reasons, not to eat commercially-raised meat. But buying meat that’s been raised locally, where the animals are treated well, costs so much more up front than buying commercial meats. It’s one of the reasons that I don’t eat much meat these days, but even so, I was shocked to learn that the average American consumes 200 pounds of meat every year. That essentially assumes that you’re eating a 3 oz. portion of meat with every meal of the day. (And most people eat much more than the serving size of 3 oz.)

What angers me about this is that many people are put into a position where they believe they simply cannot afford to eat well. Partly it’s the cost, but it’s also a matter of time. Many of the people directly impacted work multiple jobs, may get home late, or not be home much at all, and don’t feel they have the time or the energy to make something nutritious but inexpensive, such as beans and rice, or a big pot of soup or stew.

The irony is that if they ate more healthily, they might actually have more energy to be able to eat healthily. Getting out of that catch-22 is the hard part, particularly given the nature of the food industry. They don’t want people to be like me, to have gotten to the point where they crave fruits and vegetables as much or more than they do sweets and fats.

I am therefore grateful, yet again, that my upbringing was such that I had knowledge of and interest in cooking, and that I make enough money on my single income to be able to afford eating in ways that support my ethics. I’m encouraged that more people are thinking this way these days, and I hope that someday things will be different, but I suspect it will be a long road.

A Litany of Food

Following up on my earlier post, I thought it might be fun to provide a list of the foods I've given and received for the holidays.

Given (and kept a little for myself, of course):

- little pumpkin breads/muffins

- caramels

- peanut butter fudge (made from my grandmother's recipe)

- ginger crinkles

- sugar cookies

- hot chocolate mix

Received:

- Wilbur's Chocolate Bits and Pieces

- hot chocolate mix

- homemade granola (from Alton Brown's recipe on the Food Network)

- cranberry bread

- chocolate chip cookies (from two sets of people)

- ginger molasses cookies

- butter cookies

- pretzels and nuts coated with chocolate and sugar

- raspberry squares

- two types of jam

- bread and butter pickles

- homemade mix for M&M cookies

- more to come from a friend on Tuesday

- I might get some of the yummy snickerdoodles my brother made

Plus, I brought home some of yesterday's dessert because at the time I was too stuffed to eat it, after the ham, rolls, roasted potatoes, salad, and green beans:

- mini Italian pastries

- needhams

- sugar cookies

- peanut butter kisses

- no-bake cookies

- Chex mix

I think between all of this, if I limit myself to one sweet per day (my current goal - we'll see how I do), I'll have enough to last me until summer!

Gifts of Food

We recently had our holiday party at work, and I have to say it wasn’t at all geared towards someone trying to lose weight (or to a vegetarian, but that’s a different subject). Any potluck where one of the “salads” includes cut-up Snickers bars is definitely not for the weight self-conscious. Even some of the healthier items, like cut up veggies and strawberries, were meant to be dipped into something far more caloric (ranch dressing and a chocolate fountain, respectively). Other items, like the cookies and sponge cake and pinwheels and sauce-laden meats, made no pretense of being other than what they were.

Then we had our Yankee Swap. (For those unfamiliar with the term, it’s an event where people open presents based on a randomly chosen number, and they can then swap with an already-opened gift if they don’t like theirs.) As always some of the presents were re-gifted from previous years, some were silly (the “Porn for Women” calendar being a prime example), some were alcoholic, but many were food-related. A box of chocolates, four bars of specialty chocolates, an insulated picnic bag, a pottery set of olive oil dispensers and dipping dishes, candy necklaces, and some scatological ones of penguins and bears that “pooped” chocolate.

And it got me thinking about the way most of us perceive food. Had our potluck consisted of only healthy dishes, many would have been very disappointed and not felt very festive. Yet as it was, I wasn’t the only one who ate some of my own food because the potluck offerings were too rich. A better balance would have been nice, maybe a good vegetable soup, or roasted root vegetables with rosemary and olive oil. (I have to admit that even I don’t find garden salads particularly appealing this time of year, not in Maine with the cold settling into my bones.)

As for the Yankee Swap, I amused myself by thinking what the reaction would have been to give baby carrots, say, or a colorful and festive medley of bell peppers. I have no doubt that gift would have been the pariah of the party, traded away the instant it was received. After all, who gives vegetables for Christmas, or wants to receive them? I actually do know someone who did this – one of my more vivid childhood memories is of getting cans of spinach from my grandfather, who apparently wanted us to be like Popeye.

Much as I enjoy spinach now, I confess it would never occur to me to give it as a present. The closest I come these days is to give people pumpkin – but it’s well-disguised by being mixed with eggs, flour, oil, sugar and spice (and everything nice) to transform into bread. And that, at least, seems to be an acceptable gift.

Inspired

I find myself in the rather odd position of being inspired to lose weight – by myself. My younger self, that is. I remember co-workers telling me before that I was their inspiration, and while I was flattered by it, I didn’t quite understand it until now.

You may be wondering why I want to lose weight, considering the nature of this blog. The short version of the story is that when I had met my goal, my hormones got thrown off, so a few years ago I purposefully gained back 10 pounds to see if that would help get my body back on track. Sadly, it didn’t, but I’ve been lax about trying to lose those 10 pounds again. I kept thinking that I should, and now and then I’d lose a couple of pounds, but then just gain it back because I wasn’t being deliberate about it. I’d forgotten how to lose weight, remembering only how to maintain it.

Starting this writing process, though, I’ve decided that I really do want to lose that weight back. It doesn’t sound like much, but in someone my height, it can make a difference. For one thing, I haven’t been able to comfortably wear some of my clothes for a few years now. With the example of my earlier thoughts and actions clearly before me, I have no excuse not to proceed.

I therefore began this new process a couple of weeks ago, and I’m down 3 pounds. That feels good, but more interesting is that I’m remembering, now, what it feels like to lose weight, and what it takes. Some of it’s obvious – slowly reducing the number of calories I consume, adding in a little more exercise – but still, I needed the reminder. The timing could not be more perfect. This gives me renewed insight into what it was like before, while also helping me now.

Some of the things I’d forgotten are that I actually feel better in many ways when I eat less. My energy is more consistent, and I can stay focused more easily. I realize that my body can survive quite well on less food, although it feels strange to not eat so much. I keep thinking that I should need more, which is a dangerous line to walk; if I succumb to the feelings of “should”, I forget what’s actually necessary. What helps is that after the first few days of my body being upset with me for decreasing its intake, I’m no longer as hungry, and I’m satisfied with lesser amounts. I’m also less tempted by sweets that happen to be around, or to snack in the evening.

All of this I knew intimately 10 years ago, and it’s a little disturbing how easy it was to forget. It makes me all the more glad that I am writing this, thinking that if it can inspire me, when it’s something I should already know, it will hopefully do the same for others.

Ballerina

I recently watched a documentary called Ballerina that looked at the lives of some prima ballerinas in Russia. They start quite young, at the age of 10, and the teachers were looking for girls with small heads, long necks, and who would develop a good figure. But as they also said, it’s hard to tell with a 10-year-old what figures they’ll grow into.

That caught my attention because I couldn’t help thinking that when I was 10, it was fairly obvious that I wouldn’t have that type of figure. Pre-adolescence, I wasn’t terribly overweight, but I was chubby, carrying a layer of extra padding that had been cute when I was younger but was less so as I grew older. Luckily, the ballet I did at the time was for fun, not for any desire of eventually becoming a ballerina myself, and my weight wasn’t a problem. At least, I didn’t think I was until my chiropractor at the time told my mom and I that we should keep an eye on my weight. It’s my first memory of that coming up, and as I wrote in my book: “I don’t recall the doctor's exact words, but I remember they made me feel ashamed of my body for the first time. I suspect they also set off warning bells for Mom, whose greatest fear was diabetes after having seen both of her grandmothers die from diabetes-related complications.”

My dance career didn’t last much after that. By the time I was 12, I weighed around 150 pounds, and exercise in general was no longer as easy, or something I enjoyed. Even had that not been the case, I doubt that I would have wanted to put myself through the pain and grueling effort involved in becoming professional. I had no desire to have my feet bleed, or spend all my time in practice, knowing that I was causing stress to my body that would lead me to a short-lived career at best.

Even so, I feel a twinge of sorrowful envy watching dancers. Seeing their beautiful, supple bodies, I am all too aware of the limitations of my own. I acknowledged some time ago that I’m not and never will be naturally athletic. That took a while for me to understand, having once believed that if I just worked hard enough, I could achieve anything I wanted. Even having accepted that, though, when I see dancers now, I’m all too aware of my lack. And it’s very specific to them – I don’t feel this watching other athletes.

An example of this was when watching the video The Old Religion when I was in high school. As I wrote in my book: “One part of the film showed a dancer – not a ballerina, but a woman performing more of a liturgical or sacred dance. Her motions were very slow, controlled, lithe, and graceful, arms weaving in deliberately sinuous and sometimes sensual motions. Seeing that struck me to the heart, reminding me that dance was one of the things I’d lost when I gained weight. I felt, at least briefly, that I would be willing to do almost anything if only I could one day move like that woman.”

Still, I remind myself that while I will never have bodies or abilities like those ballerinas, it doesn’t mean that I can’t move gracefully, or that my body is somehow deficient. How many of us, after all, would ever achieve that level? I content myself with being earth-bound, knowing that so long as I can walk and hike and climb, perhaps do more modest dance, and take joy in those activities, that is all I need – even if I wish sometimes that it could be otherwise.

Santa Claus

One of the things I’m finding most valuable in writing about my experience with weight is remembering what it was actually like. Even though I lived through it, I don’t often think about how difficult it was, how my weight and the issues around it pervaded my life. I viewed the world through a very specific lens, one attuned to comments and portrayals of weight. As a thin person, even one who has been fat, it is easy to turn a blind eye to the prejudice and connotations surrounding those overweight, all the little things that we simply take for granted as part of our culture.

Take Santa Claus, for instance. Many may remember feeling disillusioned upon learning that Santa isn’t real, and may agonize over what to tell their own children. Some might be bitter about that, or about the fact that perhaps they didn’t get a gift they requested. Some, like Scrooge, may simply disdain the whole concept. But I’m guessing most people don’t think about Santa in relation to how his weight impacts those who are themselves heavy.

To be honest, I haven’t thought much about it recently, either. Although I did notice that in a remake of Miracle on 34^th Street, Santa wasn’t actually all that round. Which was a good thing because if he was, he wouldn’t have had much of a lap for children to sit on. (The lap is a strange, magical thing in its own right, disappearing and reappearing in direct correlation to weight.) Then, when I was typing up changes to earlier chapters I’d written about gaining weight, I re-read part of a piece called “The Road to Freedom” that I wrote in early 1996. The section relating to Santa reads:

I think, if I weren’t so gross, I’d be an actress; I’m already so good at pretending. Fulfilling that stupid myth that fat people are jolly, like Santa Claus. Only Santa Claus doesn’t exist, and how should I be jolly when people call me a cow, or porky, or say I’m dull.

I’d forgotten how even a figure as representative of holiday cheer and joy conjured, for me, demons of self-doubt and bitterness because I couldn’t match that jocularity, and I wasn’t loved as Santa was. The sheer raw pain of it strikes me even now, but it was so much worse then. Our society is inordinately cruel, most of the time, to those who are overweight, and most people would not find a belly that “shakes like a bowl full of jelly” very appealing. It’s one thing for a mythical figure, but in reality? That’s another story, and a far less cheerful one.

I also remember Mrs. Claus in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer urging Santa to, “Eat, eat!” because the children wouldn’t want a skinny Santa. That, too, was hard for me to watch, knowing that my encouragement was the opposite; everyone wanted a skinny me, and no one wanted the fat one.

I realize this may sound extreme and over-sensitive, but at the time, it was my reality. Santa Claus was just one of the many barrages on my spirit and self-esteem. As further evidence of how badly damaged I was, this was how the piece I referenced earlier concluded:

I’m not dull; I’m actually too sharp. I’ve cut myself open inside with my razor edges, but as the wounds are internal, no one notices. It’s only a matter of time before I drown, the blood from these wounds pooling into my lungs. There are a few small channels that might carry away the pain, but already I am walling them off. People hurt too much. I don’t want to ever get close again. It’s funny in a way. When I was a kid I was so happy. When I imagined myself grown up, I thought I’d live on a farm with horses, be married, have kids. That’s a laugh. Who would want to marry me? I’m repulsive to myself, so it must be worse for others. No, I won’t even consider it. I won’t kill myself, but I won’t go outside, either. I will stay right here in the safety of my own heart so I will never again have to see that look in someone’s eyes, someone I thought a friend, that says I’m nothing. And if I choke on the blood – well, it won’t matter because I’ll already be gone.

With this memory now clear, I find myself again viewing the world through those old lenses – and it’s not pretty. I’m grateful that I can take them off, but I will keep them close to hand, because it’s important to remember. Even, or sometimes especially, when the memories are painful.

Thanksgiving

Holidays in general aren’t particularly great for people trying to lose weight, since most of them are so food-oriented. And generally speaking, the food is not the healthiest. Easter baskets stuffed with candy, Halloween bags stuffed with candy, hot dogs and hamburgers and shortcake and ice cream on the 4^th of July, cookies and pies and whipped cream and all sorts of other things on Christmas, finger foods and snacks on New Year’s Eve, and more. But the most challenging, I find, is Thanksgiving.

I don’t think you could design a holiday with more mixed messages if you tried. On the one hand, one of the major things almost anyone trying to lose weight is supposed to bear in mind is portion control. Some diets propose (and I agree) that it’s okay to eat sweet things, or fatty foods, as long as they’re in small, amounts. Then we come to Thanksgiving where, as my brother commented yesterday, you’re supposed to eat to the point of being as stuffed as the turkey.

The problem, of course, is that the first Thanksgiving (and the second, third, and many after) took place when people didn’t always have a lot of food. Up until the point of harvest, gardens don’t provide very much in the way of sustenance, and people had no choice but to live off whatever they had preserved from the year before until the bounty of the new year started to roll in. Then, when it did, it made sense to really indulge, to fatten up while they could, knowing that fat would be burned off in the lean times.

The tricky part is that most of us today don’t live in that kind of world. Most of us who can afford to have an all-out, gut-busting Thanksgiving can afford to have enough food on our table throughout the year. For someone trying to lose weight, partaking of the turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, peas, corn, mashed potatoes, squash, rolls, endless numbers of pies, and who knows what else results in the complete opposite of thankfulness. Instead, stepping on the scale the next day and discovering that you’ve gained back in a single day those three or four or five pounds it took you weeks to lose is more than an enormous setback; it makes you feel guilty and sick that you didn’t have more self-control. Yes, you might lose the weight again fairly quickly, but it puts you on the wrong side of the scale. On the other hand, if you don’t participate in the ritual of eating, you feel extremely self-conscious and lonely with your meager plate while watching other people unabashedly eating enormous amounts of food.

I don’t necessarily have a solution for this, and I can’t claim that I’ve been a paragon of virtue in this regard – I did gain a pound yesterday, and only didn’t gain more because I walked over three miles. It’s just something to bear in mind as the holidays roll around, and to be sensitive of for those around us who are desperately trying not to over-eat, even (or especially) on this day when it’s expected of us.

The Thinnest City in the U.S. – New York

Traveling the week of Thanksgiving has become an annual tradition for my brother, my niece and me. This year we went to New York City, and on Tuesday, as we were walking a mile through Central Park to get to our subway station, my brother commented, “It’s easy to see why New York is the thinnest city in the country.”

I hadn’t actually known that, but it made sense. For instance, consider the number of stairs. You run into this a lot in any city with a subway system, but I always seem to forget the reality of it until I’m back in such a city. Some stations, of course, are handicapped accessible, or have escalators, but that’s not a guarantee that they even work. It means that simply getting from place to place involves a fair amount of walking, and of stairs.

It’s not just the subway, though. Being densely populated, NY goes up much more than out, with many of its iconic images rising tall and majestic into the sky. One example is the Statue of Liberty. We went on a tour of Liberty Island, and we quickly discovered from signs and announcements that the elevator to the pedestal wasn’t working. They were quite matter-of-fact about this, even though it meant we had to climb 158 steps if we wanted to get there. At least they had encouraging little signs along the way about how many stairs were left.

Climbing those stairs, I couldn’t help doing a compare and contrast. I was able to negotiate the stairs in the city reasonably well, even the ones in the Statue of Liberty. I got a bit winded, but I didn’t have to stop. But when I was in college in Boston, it was another story altogether. Weighing a little over 100 pounds more than I do now, I hated the stairs with a passion at times, especially when carrying groceries or luggage. Back then, I sometimes had to stop at each landing to catch my breath and muster the will to go on while the rest of the people were forced to split around me. It was humiliating, but I will say this – with all the walking and stair climbing, I managed not to gain weight in Boston, despite a very unhealthy diet. Whereas as soon as I moved back to Maine, within a year I gained twenty pounds, even though I ate a little better, simply because I lost that built-in exercise.

The other stair-related thought was at Belvedere Castle in Central Park. The day we went was gorgeous, and we were eager for the view from the top. The only way to get there, though, was via a tiny, one-way winding staircase. And I realized that, at my heaviest, I might have simply not fit, even if I could do the stairs. This goes back to my earlier entry about the amount of space heavier people take up. I’d experienced the thing in Blarney Castle in Ireland, but it’s still somewhat disconcerting.

So I can see how New Yorkers are thin, and how I managed to lose a pound during our stay despite eating more than I usually do. Now I’m back in Portland, which has its own distinction – being the foodiest city in the country (according to Bon Appetit Magazine). Without the subway, I have to invent my own exercise, such as walking to work, walking to Rosemont, or just going out for a walk without any particular destination. While I sometimes wish that exercising was more of a default here, instead of something I specifically have to do, it’s not enough to make me want to move to NY, thin or not.

Food and Sleep

I keep thinking that I should have learned this by now. Or rather, that I should remember to put what I’ve learned in practice, instead of managing to mess myself up time and again. The problem is with food and sleep. If I eat too much by a certain amount, I don’t sleep at all well. This then results in me feeling tired the next day, and in some cases eating more food to try to stay awake, which then means I don’t sleep well that night, either.

This is the case I ran into the past couple of days, and it’s a really vicious cycle. In addition to gaining three pounds in two days (which still doesn’t seem like it should be possible, and it’s not remotely fair that it IS possible), I feel tired and upset to my stomach and upset with myself for eating more than I know I should. I mean, I’ve been on this weight loss/maintenance gig for over nine years now. It seems like it shouldn’t still be a struggle, but sometimes, it is.

Then again, perhaps this is a good thing. It helps put things in perspective, reminding me that while I did lose over 100 pounds, this doesn’t mean that I’m perfect, or better than other people. Far from it. And these days when I don’t do what I should be doing, this is very apparent, because I tend to get rather surly and snappish with other people, mostly because I’m exhausted and upset with myself and sometimes take that out on others.

It reminds me, too, to be more considerate of others struggling with weight, and to remember how it felt when I was younger, when it seemed like any setback, no matter how small, was monumental and irreversible. It’s good to know that it’s not, and I wish I could tell my younger self that. Since I can’t, I remind my current self of that, try to reign in the surliness, and hope that I get back on track enough to finally sleep well and wake with renewed energy. Sweet dreams.

Space (but not the final frontier)

Last night I was talking to a friend who’s eight months pregnant. She told me about the fact that she’s so big now that she didn’t realize until it was too late that if she pushed her shopping cart in front of her to the checkout line, she wouldn’t be able to fit around it to actually unload the groceries. Instead, she had to pull it out, get in front of it, and then pull it behind her. As she said, “It was embarrassing.”

It made me think about size and weight, because I used to have to do the same thing. Most people think about size in relation to clothes size, and certainly finding clothes that fit is a problem. (Although it seems less so now, since more stores are carrying plus sizes – which may or may not be a good thing.) But I don’t think most people consider the sheer amount of space you take up when you’re overweight.

I noticed this first on school buses, when I took up a far greater percentage of the seat than most people. And I don’t just mean width-wise – there was very little space between me and seat in front of me as well. Bending down to get anything out of my bag at my feet was impossible, and putting it on my nearly non-existent lap was equally impossible because there simply wasn’t room. It also made maneuvering down the slender aisles challenging, particularly trying to turn around.

I ran into the same problem in Boston on the subway, where I was trying to cram into crowded cars on the red and green lines during rush hour. Between me and my backpack, I easily took up enough space for two people, perhaps more. I hated trying to fit into the little gaps, and I was embarrassed at how much room I actually needed.

Another problem was seatbelts, in airplanes and in cars. Being short, when I was driving I had to have my seat all the way forward to reach the pedals, but then the seatbelt barely fit, stretching tightly across me and cutting into my neck. Airplane seatbelts were no better. At my heaviest, they just fit, if I put the seatbelt under the overhang of my belly. I never wanted to ask for a seatbelt extension, but it was a close thing.

Also on airplanes, I was squished into the narrow seat, contained only by the armrests on either side, with very little room to maneuver to get at anything in my carry-on. The other problem was if for some reason I wasn’t able to get an aisle seat, it meant that I had to try to squeeze through to get to the bathroom, which in itself was extremely claustrophobic, with almost no space for me to turn around.

Even now, I get excited by the fact that when I fly, I actually have to tighten the seatbelt, and there’s breathing room on either side of me. I don’t have to worry about my belly or chest brushing up against the steering wheel in the car. I can navigate the space between a shopping cart and the cash register on the other side if I push my cart in. On the bus to work, I actually take up slightly less than half the seat, and I’m not in danger of pressing against the seat in front of me. After six years, these little daily things aren’t quite as momentous as they were when I first lost weight, but I still sometimes catch myself, realize what I’ve just done, and marvel at how little space I now fill.

Travel and Food

Travel is not designed for people who are trying to lose weight. At least, that’s been my experience from traveling over the past 10 years. Much of that has been for work, but some vacations as well, and for both, it’s a real effort to avoid gaining weight. (Unless, of course, you catch some unfamiliar virus that makes you so sick you can’t keep anything down, but that’s hardly something to hope for.)

The problems start with the actual travel, primarily if you’re flying. Airports are not known for their complement of healthy meal options, although they are improving. While they still don’t give you the full nutritional breakdown of their meals, some are starting to indicate overall calories, or if something is low fat, low cholesterol, etc., and to offer more in the way of salads and lighter fare. Still, it’s not something you can count on. My brother, my niece and I will never forget that when connecting at Dulles Airport, our only options for food were MacDonald’s and Ben&Jerry’s (we didn’t count the place selling alcohol).

Because of that, I’ve taken to traveling with a lot of my own food: nuts, hard-boiled eggs, salami (the kind

that’s cured so it doesn’t need refrigeration), PB&J sandwiches, carrot sticks, sugar snap peas, fruit (dried or fresh), trail and energy bars, chocolate, peanut butter crackers, and pretzels. It makes packing a carry-on more challenging, admittedly, and it might draw some odd looks. For instance, I once had my bag searched because apparently my flashlight looked armed and dangerous to the X-ray machine. It was early morning, and the man searching my bag said, “You’ve got a lot of food in here. You’re lucky I’ve already eaten breakfast.”

Despite all that, I think it’s worth the extra preparation and packing because then, at least, I know what I’m eating. I also don’t have to worry about flight delays or trying to get food in a tight connection. Similarly, I always bring at least one empty water bottle with me and fill it up at the water fountains once I’m past security.

Once I’m actually at my destination, my strategy varies depending on if I’m traveling for work or fun. In either case, one of the things I most enjoy is trying new restaurants and cuisines, but I need to try to balance that. When I’m on vacation, I don’t worry so much about it for a couple of reasons. Partly it’s because I can choose when I’m going to eat, and where, and also because most of my pleasure trips involve lots of walking. The record may be when my brother, my niece and I walked 14 miles in one day in D.C.

But when I’m traveling for work, as this past week, I don’t often have control over when I can eat, and often not where or what my options are. My exercise is also generally limited to going to and from the elevators, or getting in a walk or swim as I’m able. Mostly I’m sitting, and that fails to burn the calories from any big meals. The challenges are two-fold. One is that if it’s a conference that my company sponsors, food is over-abundant and highly caloric. Three times a day are all-you-can-eat buffets, with rich, luxurious foods. And in case that’s not enough, we have afternoon snacks, things like ice cream, giant cookies, pastries, etc. It’s a severe test of will power for anyone who loves food. Or, if it’s not one of our conferences, I can buy my own meals at restaurants of my choice, within a certain budget – but it’s not my budget. The temptation here is to eat more than I should, simply because I’m not paying for it and can get whatever I might like. The lure of free food is hard to resist.

So, I bring my own breakfast, to at least have that much known and accounted for. It used to be dry Cheerios, juice boxes, and fruit. Once I discovered the joy of mini fridges in the hotel room, I started bringing things like hard-boiled eggs, cheese, more salami, and fruit. (Quick note of caution – always check the setting of your fridge as soon as you get it; otherwise, you may end up with frozen and then soggy fruit as I did.) I also bring some vegetables for snacking, typically carrots, broccoli, peppers, tomatoes, and/or cucumbers. Having those to fill me up helps me eat less at the buffet or restaurants, and the portion control is a big factor. I enjoy trying tastes of all the things at the buffets, but if I’m already partly full, it’s only a taste instead of a full helping.

Even knowing all this, I can still go overboard, as I did last week. But it’s not as bad as it could be, and I also know that once I’m back to my regular eating habits, I’ll quickly lose whatever weight gained. It’s still a challenge, but at least now I’ve discovered what works for me.

Swimming

I know it’s a little strange to be talking about swimming in November, but I just got back from a conference in New Orleans, where my hotel had an outside pool. I didn’t see anyone else out there, and I wonder if it was too cool for the locals. But it was quite balmy for me (outside temp was in the low 70’s), so I decided to take advantage of it Wednesday afternoon. My added incentive was knowing that I ate too much at lunch at the Palace Café (seafood gumbo, crusty bread and pecan-crusted with Creole meunière sauce, spiced pecans, popcorn rice, and a medley of broccoli, carrots, and red onions); I plan to address the topic of food and travel in a couple of days.

At any rate, it was the first time I’d gone swimming where I was surrounded by skyscrapers, but what actually made it memorable was realizing how much I enjoyed it. Such enjoyment doesn’t feel like it should be surprising, since I practically lived in the water some summers when I was growing up. Between swimming lessons, combining swimming with canoe trips, and going to swim at the nearby Thomas Pond, it was something I loved and took for granted.

Which is why it was one of the greatest casualties of my weight gain. As I wrote in the first part of my book:
"But perhaps my biggest loss was swimming. I still enjoyed being in the water, possibly even more than when I was younger. In that pleasant, almost weightless space, I could more easily ignore my mass, and I was still capable of handstands and somersaults and other acrobatics. Everything else about the experience, though, was not fun in and some ways torturous.

"Take bathing suits, for instance. They're meant to reveal the wonders of the female form, curvy and sleek and taut - which is fine if you're in a beauty pageant but a bit disheartening for us mere mortals. And for those overweight, it's frankly humiliating. I hated displaying my body, knowing that it was stretched out and bulged in unattractive places. This meant that I didn't want to go to public beaches anymore, and that I was hesitant of going to Thomas Pond. If I went, I walked fully clothed, bathing suit discretely hidden, only the towel over my shoulder giving away the fact that I was even contemplating going in the water. Once there, I checked carefully for my brother’s friend or anyone in his family, making sure I could slip into the pond unobserved.

"Getting out was another difficulty. I not only had to be certain I was alone, I had to deal with gravity. For someone who's never been heavy, this may seem like an odd statement. But the reality is that after floating peacefully in the water, letting that wonderful liquid buoy my weight, it was horrible to face taking up the burden again for myself. It was as if I had set down a heavy pack for a brief wondrous time of freedom, only to have to take it up again, with no choice in the matter. At my heaviest, I sometimes literally staggered coming out before I could readjust to the pull of my body.

"I didn’t feel able to wear a bathing suit in public again until six or seven years ago. Even now, I’m not completely comfortable in one because my body will never be picture-perfect. But that discomfort no longer keeps me out of the water. The irony is that I don’t have many opportunities to swim anymore, since I no longer live next door to ponds or lakes. This past summer was a particular disappointment, what with all the rain and cold; I only got in the water once."

That’s why I was so excited to have access to the pool at the hotel, swimming for half an hour in solitary delight, able to appreciate it without worrying about what other people thought when they saw me. It was a reminder that I should try to get out whenever possible in the summers, because it is something I enjoy. I’m just glad I can remember that now.

Commercials, Part 1 – the Quick Fix

It seems like you can’t go online these days, or watch any sort of television, without seeing commercials or advertisements about a quick-fix way to lose weight. So many companies promise these “silver bullets”, as if there’s some magic way to lose weight, and their one product will make all the difference.

The ones that I’m particularly thinking of are the internet ads about acai berries, and a TV commercial I recently saw about smoothies (from RightSize, I think). Both of these ads proclaim to be able to work miracles of weight loss if you just buy their product. What disturbs me about them is that so many people are so eager for a quick fix that they don’t even stop to investigate, to see if this is true, or if there are side effects that might be even worse. They probably just jump at the chance to have some easy way to lose weight.

The thing is, I can’t blame them. When I was younger, we tried to pin my weight problems on various things, thinking that if we addressed just that one item, I’d be able to lose weight without a problem. The pounds would just melt off. For instance, we thought I had a thyroid problem, so I took iodine supplements – with no luck. Then we thought that I was allergic to all sorts of things (sugar, wheat, citrus fruits, etc.) and that if I avoided those, I’d lose weight. Then it was that I had too much of the bad type of yeast in my body, so I took acidophilus and joined my mom in a yeast-free diet for a while. Then the gym teacher at my mom’s school suggested some supplements (quite pricey, I might add) that were designed to help boost slow metabolisms.

None of these things worked, and it’s why I’m leery of anything that offers a quick fix. No one who’s heavy wants to hear that it could take a long time to lose weight, that it’s a lifestyle change, not a diet, that it will always be a balancing act. But at least for me, and the few other people I’ve met who’ve been able to lose weight and keep it off, that’s the case. For me, what did it was diet and exercise, with a lot of discipline and work and continual adjustments and refinements and change in attitude. The overall goal was to burn more calories than I took in, and when I did, I lost weight. It's not a a quick fix, but for me, it's the only thing that worked.

So I’d like to caution anyone who’s tempted to try these to really find out what’s involved. These products may help with weight loss, but I have a hard time believing just a single change is all that it takes.

Harvest on the Harbor

As mentioned earlier, last Saturday I went to the Marketplace for the Harvest on the Harbor festival held on the Portland waterfront. This was an event that gathered food, beer, and wine vendors, representatives from restaurants, chefs and local foodies. The Marketplace had booths from all sorts of different vendors, as well as some cooking demonstrations and talks. I had a great time at it, despite the crowds of people (somewhere over 2,500), and of course it got me thinking about food and weight, for obvious reasons as well as some not so obvious.

The obvious, of course, was the sheer amount of food. I had decided in advance to give myself permission to sample whatever appealed to me there, without worrying quite so much about if I should be eating it or not. As a result, my friend Sarah and I tried quite a lot. We unwittingly started with the desserts, although we didn’t mind too much. We had everything from specialty chocolates and brownies and whoopie pies, to wonderfully rich and creamy gelato, to caramel flan shooters. We still had room for some snacks and savory dishes: a variety of spreads, soups, chowders, sandwiches, jams, jellies, and more. We mostly skipped the beverages, although I enjoyed my apple cider, and Sarah was quite fond of the honey wine.






What’s interesting for me to consider about this is that, if I were still overweight, I would never even think about going to this sort of event. When I was heavy, I hated eating in front of people. And for something like this, where so many of the foods were rich or caloric, I would have been feeling guilty and wondering about what others thought of me, sure they would be disgusted by someone as large as me eating so much. Or eating at all, for that matter.

The crowds would also have been difficult for me. One of the things that still sometimes surprises me is how small of an opening I can fit through. When I was heavier, though, I obviously took up a great deal more space, and the idea of trying to squeeze through those crowds would have been intimidating and generally unappealing.

It made me very glad that I felt able to attend this particular event, because the food was delicious. I even managed not to gain any weight from it by virtue of exercising in the morning, skipping supper (something I only do in extreme circumstances), and walking a little over 3 miles to and from my car. But more than just enjoying the taste of the food, I am grateful that I no longer have to feel guilty for that enjoyment. I still need to be careful, certainly, but that change in my relationship to food and how I think others perceive me is a tremendous gift.

Food in the office - additional

Yesterday, I went with Sarah, a friend and former co-worker, to the Harvest on the Harbor festival (more on that later), and we were talking about my comments about food in the office. She pointed out that I had forgotten to mention the monthly birthday celebrations that we've had the past few years, so I thought I'd add a note about those.

Instead of having birthday cake once every one or two weeks (or sometimes more), our office administrator started organizing monthly birthday celebrations. But don't let the frequency fool you into thinking this resulted in less cake - far from it! These monthly events generally include: one large regular cake; 2-3 types of cheesecake (including low-carb versions); usually a fruit tart; 1-2 other types of cake; and cut fruit for those of us who aren't cake-inclined. What's even more frightening is that all of this only lasts about 2 days, maybe 3 if certain people aren't in the office. From a calorie perspective, I think we might actually consume more this way.

And here are a few older journal entries about food in the office:
July 11, 2001
Today at work was interesting because there was a lot of food. Bob brought in leftover cupcakes from his daughter's birthday party on Sunday, and they were very cute, with a nautical theme; the frosting was blue with a straw sticking up like a fishing ole and a Swedish fish attached to the pole with a piece of dental floss. Victoria brought in beef jerky, and Matt H. brought in leftover Easter Skittles. Then Thea bought pretzels and Kate bought black licorice – it was crazy.

October 18, 2001
On Monday Thea was back bearing lots of food. She’d had a birthday party for her grandmother (88) on Sunday, and she had a ton of leftovers: 4 kinds of bread (pumpkin, banana, coffee-cake like bread, and one other), cookies, and two halves of cake, one chocolate fudge and one Oreo mousse. She was, as you might imagine, very popular.

December 17, 2001
Today was interesting. Tons of folks were out – Scott, Matt B., and Jean were sick, and Matt H. was on vacation, while Kate, Thea, and Victoria were still in training. But those of us there were fortified by all the food Kristin brought – chocolate fudge, butter cookies, pecan squares, and mini loaves of chocolate chip pumpkin bread (she was bored on Saturday, so she baked).

To Dessert or Not to Dessert?

At dinner with my manager, both my co-worker and I opted out of dessert. Looking off to the side somewhat towards my co-worker, our manager asked, “What, are you watching your weight or something? Are you on a diet?”

I couldn’t tell if the question was directed at both of us, or specifically at my co-worker, although he was the one who answered it, jokingly saying his wife was watching his weight. I was glad for the deflection, because it wasn’t something I felt like discussing with my boss. Leaving aside the appropriateness of the question, what particularly struck me was my manager’s tone. He wasn’t actually curious, or interested – he was simply incredulous. He couldn’t believe that we were being given carte blanche to eat as much food as we wanted and skipped out on a course.

Such astonishment isn’t unique to him; our society in general encourages people to eat whatever is in front of them, whether or not they need it. The idea of stopping eating when you’re comfortably full instead of stuffed is one that took me a long time to grasp because it’s not how food is presented to us. It reminds me of Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, with the man who protested that he couldn’t eat another bite, but the waiters kept plying him. “Just a wafer thin mint?” When he finally gave in and ate it, he exploded, literally.

While I wasn’t worried about any reaction quite so extreme as that, I have learned enough about myself to know that if I overeat, I often pay for it later on, no matter how good it may taste at the time. And I don’t just mean weight. I don’t sleep well, I don’t feel very good, and the effects often last for a couple of days. Which isn’t to say that I always get it right, or that I always avoid desserts, because that’s not the case. Sometimes I do just eat what appeals to me, but not often.

As for the dessert, had I found a one that had a non-dairy base that really appealed to me, I probably would have gotten one. But I also didn’t need to have it. I’m just grateful that I can make that distinction. I can enjoy my food but also know (most of the time) when enough is enough. It’s been one of the most valuable lessons on my journey.

Food in the office

I've been thinking a lot about the food available in my office lately, simply because there's so much of it. It's actually a bit ridiculous. To start, on Tuesdays we always have breakfast delivered - although since it's bagels and oversized, sugary muffins, it's not the sort of breakfast I eat. We also now have a new pattern of having an executive from our California office always visiting. In an attempt to raise morale, it seems like they're going to be providing lunch most Thursdays, but again, the pizza isn't something I generally eat, particularly with the dairy allergy. This week is particularly over the top, since it's my manager who's visiting. Today he took a couple of us out to lunch, and tomorrow night he's taking some of us out to dinner. And Fridays, we often get donuts.

In addition to that, when our office administrator is on top of things, there's always a full candy dish at the front desk, and often various snacks, such as pretzels, trail mix, Twizzlers, microwave popcorn, cereal bars, chips, soda, and random other things. Sometimes she also makes chocolate chip cookies in the toaster oven, and occasionally we get fresh fruit, such as bananas, oranges, and apples. But the fruit, the only provided food I generally eat, is much rarer than the rest of it.

While I realize that many people would be excited to have their workplace provide so much food, it makes my life extremely difficult. If there are things I can avoid, such as the Tuesday breakfast and lunches on Thursday, I do, eating my own food instead. What's especially challenging this week is that I ate too much this weekend, and having all this food around, and meals at restaurants that I'm expected to attend, makes it very difficult to get back on track.

This sort of quandary is not new. Just yesterday, I came across a journal entry from August 14, 2002, in which I wrote: "Everyone else went to [the local restaurant] David's, but I stuck with my own lunch. I also opted out of dinner, which would have been seafood. I realize that I may be rather odd at this point for avoiding going to eat assiduously, whereas most people would welcome being treated to meal at a high-end restaurant. Maybe someday I won't have to worry so much about it."

Given this past week, I have to wonder if that day of not worrying will ever come. I suspect it won't, which doesn't truly surprise me; I knew that this commitment to maintaining my weight would be lifelong. And I'm okay with that, because while I still worry some about what I'm eating, I don't have to worry as much. I know, now, that if I'm careful, I'll get back to where I want to be and back to enjoying all the wonderful food around me.

Introduction

By the time I was twenty-four, I weighed 260 pounds; even now, I cringe to actually write the number. Then, over a two and a half year period, I lost 130 pounds and have kept it off for six and a half years. When people ask me how I did it, my flip and short response is, “Diet and exercise.”

But the truth is much more complicated and deeper than that. It also involves lots of questions that people rarely ask. How and why did I gain weight to begin with? How did it feel to be an overweight adolescent and young adult? What prompted me to lose weight when I finally did? Did I have a support group? What was the experience of losing weight like, and what is it like now to maintain it? How do I handle being in situations with lots of food and social expectations of eating? Have there been any negative results of losing weight? Is being thin what I expected? What other things have changed in my life as a result of weight loss?

Those other questions are equally, if not more, significant, particularly as they are addressed so infrequently. That is why, in an effort to answer those and more, I have begun writing about my journey and experiences with weight and food, referring to old journal entries for chronology and to remind myself of what it was actually like at the time.

This blog will be an account of this process of re-discovery, as well as some of my current thoughts about food and weight and exercise. It is a reminder, as well, that while I might have won the losing battle, it is one that many others struggle with. I would like to think that sharing my story might offer them useful strategies and, more importantly, hope and understanding.