Out With the Old, In With the New

If you’re thinking of making a New Year’s resolution that relates to weight, health, or fitness, you’re in good company. According to Statistic Brain, the top resolution for 2012 was “lose weight”, while number five was “staying fit and healthy”, and my guess is that 2013 resolutions will follow a similar pattern.

How do we achieve these (and other) goals? One suggestion comes in the form of that familiar phrase, “Out with the old, in with the new.” For example, we can apply this to food. For most people, a good start to losing weight is to cut out a lot of sugary, fatty foods (the “old”) and replace them with more whole foods such as fruit and vegetables (the “new”).

Unfortunately, this old and new approach might not quite work with food. After all, most everyone knows what diet changes they could make, and yet many fail to keep this resolution, not just at New Year’s but at other times as well.

Part of the problem is that the sugary, fatty foods, in addition to tasting good, can be very comforting, familiar, and easy to prepare. Getting them “out” is therefore challenging, especially if you’re bringing “in” foods that you don’t like, don’t know, and/or take longer to prepare. Consider. What if eating chips, baked goods, candy, etc. is a great source of comfort to you - will replacing them with things like quinoa, kale, and apples give you the same enjoyment? It’s doubtful, especially in the beginning.

This is where thinking about why we like those foods help. Sometimes it can be emotional reasons, but it’s likely also something about the food itself that you truly enjoy. Maybe it’s the texture, the sweetness, the spiciness, the heat or cold, the familiarity, or something else that appeals to you.

Once you know that, you might be able to find something that has similar qualities but is healthier. For instance, if you’re looking for crunch, crisp vegetables with hummus might work instead of chips. Or if it’s sweetness, a baked apple with some cinnamon and a little honey might swerve for dessert.

Whether this approach is something you want to try or not, I hope that you find a way of keeping your resolution (if you made one) that works for you. And to everyone, as we usher out the old year, may the new year coming in bring much happiness and peace.

Revealing Weight History

Dating post-weight loss is a tricky endeavor for many reasons, but one particular challenge is the question of when to share that you didn’t always look this way.

I thought about this recently when watching the “History vs. Mystery” episode of How I Met Your Mother. In it, Ted’s friends started researching all his dates to warn him if they turned up something that was an instant deal-breaker. The very first one was when they found a picture of his date from six months before, when she was morbidly obese. Ted ran.

I know this is a sitcom, but still, it breaks my heart. It means that to the Teds of the world (and they do exist), nothing you do or say will ever matter: the simple fact of earlier obesity is damning, putting you past all reclamation.

This is the fear that we face, those of us with that history. I’ve gone through it many times, wondering when it’s right to tell a date about my past, feeling like a fraud if I don’t but terrified of the response.

Nor am I alone in this. Shauna Reid, who also lost half her weight as chronicled in The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl, waited until the night before her wedding to tell her now-husband that she had kept a blog about her weight loss. And it wasn’t until after they were married that she felt able to reveal exactly how much she had once weighed.

I tell myself that negative responses don’t matter, that anyone who would judge me like that isn’t worth my time. In my head, I know that’s true, and I’m even starting to believe it in my heart. And in truth, those fears have never been realized for me. That doesn’t mean it’s easy, or that the prospect of such rejection doesn’t hurt. Nor does it stop me wishing that I didn’t have to think this way in the first place, or know that reactions such as Ted’s are a real possibility. But since they are, I will simply keep reminding myself that who I am, and my worth as a person, is not all about my weight.

Body Image, Food, and Gender

NOTE: I realize that not everyone identifies as male or female, but for purposes of this piece I’m focusing on two genders – no offense is intended to anyone regardless of how they identify.

A recent study in Maine found that if nutritional information is provided in restaurants, some people will choose lower calorie meals. This didn’t surprise me. What caught my attention, though, was the breakout by gender:

• Women: 50% (two out of four)
• Men: 25% (one out of four)

That’s a significant difference, and it reminded me of how the way we approach food and body image if often tied to gender. That’s especially easy to think about this time of year, with numerous images of Santa Claus and his round belly (how many female icons can you think of who are supposed to be fat?), but many other examples abound.

For instance, the book Teenage Waistland by Lynn Biederman and Lisa Pazer is a fictional account of some teens considering gastric bypass surgery. One of them is a boy who realizes that if he has the surgery and loses weight, he’ll never make the minimum weight requirements for a certain football position, something that’s very important to his father. And in a related discussion, a friend recently commented that he knows a guy with a very high metabolism who struggles to keep his weight up and how it’s a sensitive subject because skinny guys feel a stigma, too, not just overweight ones. 

Marc David also noted this in Nourishing Wisdom: “For many men food is also directly linked to weight, but whereas a woman sees fat when looking at food, a man sees protein, the potential for food to add muscle weight to his body.” (p. 101)

This is something that took me a long time to understand. I used to assume that anyone heavy would want to lose weight, and that anyone thin would be happy with their body, regardless of gender. It unfortunately made me sometimes judgmental about how I saw other people eating, thinking I knew what they wanted because it was what I wanted for myself.

Knowing now that this is not the case, I think about that study and wonder if fewer men are swayed by calorie counts because they want some of that additional bulk. I don’t know, but it may be a factor. 

So many things go into our food choices, after all, sometimes without us even being aware of them. While that can be hard to remember, I do my best these days, reminding myself that we’re all in different places, have different needs, and that no one way of viewing food or body image is going to be right for every person.

A Love of Cooking

It’s still a surprise to me that I love cooking, given that it’s only something I discovered since losing weight. I wouldn’t have even phrased it that way until recently, when I was having a conversation with other women about what we love, and one of them said cooking.

That’s when I realized that what I feel, too. Then I started to consider why I love it. I hear so many people say that it’s boring to cook for one person, or they don’t have time for it, or it’s simply not something they enjoy. Why is it different for me?

I have to be honest and agree with the other woman who said she loves it: part of it is the control factor. When I’m in the kitchen and cooking, I am fully in charge of the food, what goes into it, how it’s prepared, etc. In a way it gives me a way to still be focused on controlling food but in a healthier way than obsessing over calories, grams of fat, etc.

It’s more than that, though. Much of my time is spent working on intangible things - computer software at my job, these words that go into the internet ether, music when I practice my flute, conversations with family and friends. Not that those are bad things, but they are not visceral. I cannot hold them or retain them in any but the most fleeting way.

With cooking, I am fulfilling a deeper desire to be doing some physical, with an actual result that I can not only see and touch but smell and taste and even hear, with bubbling soup or sizzling garlic and more. Having something to chop or peel or stir or measure is much more hand’s on than many of my other activities, as well as providing me with something tasty. In this way it’s relaxing for me, especially with some good music playing. It’s also addictive - I find that if I go for too long without preparing food in some way, I miss it and feel out of balance somehow. 

And I am continually delighted by the sheer possibility of what you can do with raw ingredients. I have fun flipping through recipes, and picking out something new to try has become one of my favorite activities. What’s also interesting is that when I’m cooking, or thinking about food in this way, I’m not tempted to eat. Even if I’m starting to get hungry, I don’t generally sample what I’m working on unless it’s toward the end and I want to check spices, etc. Simply working with food, or thinking about working with it, is enough to satisfy my mental craving.

So I have to take it on faith that other people don’t like to cook. I am so grateful that I have the means to indulge this love, and it is a continual wonder and blessing for me to enjoy food from this newer perspective.

No More Compliments

In recently reading Teenage Waistland by Abby Ellin, I was reminded of something that I had encountered along my own weight-loss journey but had forgotten over the last 10 years: all the compliments I used to receive. Before I started losing, it never occurred to me that so many people would notice or remark on my weight changes, or that I would almost get addicted to it, but that’s what happened.

A sampling of some of the more memorable comments, mostly from my co-workers:

• “You’re my inspiration.”
• “You should be on a Subway commercial!” (Minor drawback - I wasn’t eating Subway sandwiches to lose weight.)
• This in an e-mail: “I just wanted to send you a note to say that I am incredibly impressed at how WONDERFUL you look – I don’t know what you’re doing or how you’re managing to do it, but you look great! I have infinite admiration for what you’ve accomplished… keep up the good work – you are amazing!!!” 
• “I passed you the other day when you were standing at the bus stop, but I almost didn’t recognize you because there’s so much less of you!”
• “Look at you. You don’t have a butt anymore! I mean that in a good way.”
• This from someone in the neighborhood: “Are you the one I’ve been seeing walk all winter? You’ve lost a lot of weight. You look good.”

The problem is that you get to a point when there are no more compliments. When you stop losing, the new you becomes the norm, and people no longer remark on it. This can be a let-down and potentially make it harder to stay motivated on maintaining. In Teenage Waistland, Anne Fletcher described it this way: “‘When it’s new everybody notices, it’s so exciting. “Look at you! You look like a new person! How thin your face is!” But what happens two or five years into maintenance? It’s deadly boring.’” (p. 210)

I didn’t even think about this aspect of things until I left my company right after achieving my weight goal. As I wrote in my memoir about starting my new job, “It wasn’t until I got introduced around that the new reality of my situation occurred to me: these people had never known me when I was heavy. They weren’t going to greet me by saying, ‘You look great!’ or asking how much weight I’d lost.... [It] meant that I would no longer get compliments on a regular basis, which would take some adjustment.”

And it was an adjustment. Every day I went in, maintaining my 130-135 pound loss, but it didn’t matter anymore, at least not to the outside world. Even when I returned to my former company, the most I could hope for was the occasional, “You still look good,” comment from someone I hadn’t seen in a while. It was disheartening. After all, who doesn’t like to hear such wonderful comments on a regular basis?

What helped was the fact that I hadn’t lost weight simply to please other people or get those sorts of compliments. For me, that was an added bonus. And by the time I had gotten to my goal weight, my happiness with everything I could suddenly do - from little things like crossing my legs to big things like climbing mountains - carried me through until that weight became my new reality and I didn’t think of it as a struggle to maintain.

Remembering all this made me wonder - would I want more people to compliment me on my weight loss these days? The answer is no, for two reasons. One, because I’m okay with my daily interactions not being focused on my weight anymore. And two, because now if someone does compliment me after hearing my story, it’s a surprise again instead of being expected. And somehow that makes it sweeter.

Holiday Baking

I’ve always liked baking, especially around the holidays. Part of it is my family tradition of making sugar cookies (see my Sugar Cookies post), but I also like to make a lot of other things as gifts for people. This lets me sample some of it, as well as sharing the wealth.

So when I was recently diagnosed with new food allergies, I wasn’t quite sure how that would work for this holiday season. Could I still make things that were tasty but didn’t include gluten, eggs, or dairy? I decided to find out, using my church’s upcoming holiday fair as a good excuse to experiment. After all, I’m not the only one who has these sorts of allergies, and others might appreciate being able to get something sweet at the fair. But really, that’s just rationalization - I’ve largely been doing it because, for me, it’s fun.

It’s not hard to replace dairy - there are lots of options. And for eggs, I’ve been using ground flaxseed with water. The gluten is trickier, since gluten-free flours tend to be a bit more crumbly. But the Internet is a wonderful resource, and I’ve been able to make some items that don’t even call for regular flour and have gotten positive reviews. 

My first attempt was plaintain brownies. They came out very well, as you can see in the photo.

My neighbor, though, did prefer the chocolate-cherry brownies made with oatmeal and black beans (I left out the pecans, since I’m not a fan of nuts in brownies, and I might also leave out the cherries in the future.) Those were denser and more fudgy than the plaintain brownies, but also took more ingredients and longer to prepare. But always good to have options.

Next came the cookies. I tried pumpkin pie cookies, made with almond butter, but I wasn’t that excited about them (though the ones with chocolate chips were better). What I liked more were the pumpkin oatmeal cookies; they have a nice flavor and texture.

Finally I tried a lemon cornmeal cake. It didn’t transfer from pan to plate as smoothly as the directions made it sound, but the crumbs are quite tasty, and I may experiment making it as cupcakes, which would eliminate that problem.

I think I’m going to stop there, though, since I have to go back to work next week, but it’s been fun. I’ve been very pleased with the results, and knowing that I, and others with similar allergies, can still have some tasty treats to enjoy over the holiday season.

Guilt and Eating

When I think about guilt and eating, the first thing that comes to mind is feeling guilty for having something, often after but sometimes while eating. But lately I’ve been thinking about the other issue: eating because of guilt.

This can happen a lot around the holidays as we gather our family and friends for festive meals. People may spend a long time preparing their speciality, and even if it’s something you don’t like, you may feel obligated to eat it. After all, they put so much effort into it, and they’re watching you like a hawk to see if you’re going to partake of it. 

If you don’t, their feelings will be hurt. If you do, you may be eating something you don’t like, which could cause you to later overeat of the foods you do like. Or if you enjoy what they brought, if you try to have just a little of it, they may say something like, “Don’t you like it?”, thus nudging you to take more than you had planned and thus overeat.

I haven’t run into this for a long time, because by now most people know my history with weight and that I try to eat mindfully. But it’s suddenly cropped up again for an unexpected reason: food allergies.

Having been recently diagnosed with, among other things, gluten, egg, dairy, and peanut allergies, I knew that social eating would be difficult, so my plan was to avoid it when possible. What I didn’t anticipate was that people would go out of their way to provide foods I could have, making me feel guilty about not  eating them, even if I wasn’t hungry.

For instance, the other day I got an e-mail partway through the morning saying that lunch was going to be brought in for the office. It was pizza (a no-go for three reasons - dairy, gluten, and eggs), with a couple of salads. Unlike many earlier lunches, these salads were egg and cheese free. The only problem? I’d already eaten the lunch I had brought because I was hungry early, and I didn’t need the ham, chicken, and bacon rich salads by the time they arrived.

On top of that, the person planning the holiday office party was picking out foods I can eat - except I can’t go to the party. When I found out what she was doing, though, I felt like I should try to rearrange things so I could go, simply to eat the food, all out of guilt that she was going to such trouble.

As I’m adjusting to this new reality, I’m remembering some things I learned before. Whether I want the food or not, it’s important to thank the person for making it. It may also help to take a small amount to show I’m sampling it if nothing else, and perhaps ask to bring some home if it’s something I truly enjoy. 

But also important is remembering that if I’m stressed or feeling guilty while eating, it’s not going to be enjoyable, so I should let go of that. Easier said than done, I know, but I’ll try, because I want my holiday eating - and eating in general - to be as joyful and guilt-free as possible.

Too Skinny?

Jeff Peterson is a local reporter who recently lost 31 pounds after going to a vegan diet. The newspaper article has before and after pictures of him, and while I didn’t think anything strange of his new appearance, apparently others don’t agree.  “People will say to me, 'You're getting way too skinny,’ Jeff said. ‘People aren't used to seeing people at regular weight."

I might consider this an anomaly if it weren’t for other similar experiences. For instance, I was recently talking to another man who lost a lot of weight (in his case about 100 pounds), and when people saw him for the first time since that loss, many were shocked. Some asked if he had cancer, unable to conceive of how else he could have shed so much weight. Others commented that he looked almost cadaverous, although when I met him, he seemed to me a healthy weight.

I also encountered this odd phenomenon with my own weight loss. After I had gone down about 100 pounds, I was also getting the comments about becoming “skinny” and people worrying that I would lose too much or become anorexic. It made me question my perception of myself, to worry that they might be right. When I looked in the mirror, I still thought I was heavy, but what if I was deluding myself? After a lot of thought, I realized that given the fact that I’m only five feet tall and still weighed around 150, I couldn’t really qualify as “too thin”. 

When I think about why I got those comments, I have to agree with Peterson, but I think it goes a little deeper than what size people are used to. After all, we see images of models (some of who I do think are too skinny) and actors, who are much thinner than me, so it shouldn’t truly be a shock. And passing by a stranger at my size, friends and family probably do not think, “She’s too skinny.”

But when you lose that much weight, many people no longer recognize you, literally. I ran into a situation where a man who had known me since I was 14 had to confirm with my brother that I was, in fact, me. Those who have known you at a heavier weight may wonder how else you’ve changed. Are you, in fact, the same person that they knew? It may also make them reassess their own bodies. Suddenly what they had considered an okay weight no longer looks so good compared to you, and that could be threatening.

The tricky part, of course, is that it can go too far. Some people do get down to an unhealthy weight, or become anorexic. But the vast majority do not.

So if know someone who is intentionally shrinking and you feel like they might be going too far, I would suggest taking a moment to consider objectively before commenting. After all, for those of us losing, hearing that we’re suddenly too thin instead of too fat is not particularly helpful, and may even cause unintended angst. 

Acceptance of Where You're At

Last week I wrote about bidding farewell to favorite foods after finding out about a lot of allergies. I’ve since started the process of figuring out what I can eat, and along the way I came to a place of acceptance. I realized that being angry and despairing about these changes would not serve me or anyone, especially since I can still eat a lot of foods. I felt like a switch had flipped, letting me approach this new reality with a more positive attitude.

Then I remembered that I’ve been through this before, in relation to weight. 

When I was an overweight teenager, I was about as far from accepting as you could get. I was determined to find some silver bullet or magic pill that would let me eat whatever I wanted without adding pounds. That mindset didn’t help in my weight loss attempts, since part of me assumed that soon I wouldn’t need to do any work, so why bother now? 

Eventually I realized that the magic pill simply doesn’t exist, and that instead I needed to examine the details of my eating patterns. It was much easier once I admitted that.

My other hurdle was when I got to a point of maintaining my weight loss. I had it in my head that I should be able to eat like a “normal” person. I didn’t know exactly what that meant. I just knew that I got jealous when I watched other people eat pizza and chicken fingers and French fries and cookies, apparently without a second thought. Interestingly enough, I had this sense even though I didn’t necessarily want those foods anymore, or very often, or very much of them.

What I didn’t realize is how inherently flawed this type of comparison is. You can’t know by looking at someone if their body can handle the foods they’re ingesting, or if they might need the calories - perhaps they’ve run a marathon, or are doing lots of hiking, in which case eating high calorie foods doesn’t have the same effect and is even necessary. 

Marc David writes about this as well in the book Nourishing Wisdom, in a discussion of forming new habits and behaviors: “...[This] lack of acceptance inhibits the transformation process. Acceptance is always the first step.” (p. 116) 

That certainly seems to be true for me. In all the times when I’ve managed to accept where I’m at - no silver bullet, no “normal” eating, loss of some favorite and common foods - I’m much better prepared to handle making changes. 

Which isn’t to say that acceptance is easy. It’s not. But it is important. After all, we can’t move forward with confidence without knowing where we’re starting. 

Farewell to Favorite Foods

This past Thursday I got some unfortunate news - I found out that I’m allergic to a bunch of things, including eggs, gluten, and peanuts, and reconfirming dairy. I didn’t change what I ate for a couple of days, though, because yesterday I went to Harvest on the Harbor and was determined to enjoy the food without worry. (See my previous posts from 2011 and 2009 for descriptions of this amazing foodie event.)

But I was already thinking ahead to what life will be like moving forward as I avoid these things, and I realize I’m feeling something like grief as I bid farewell to some favorite foods.

Cleaning out my cupboards and fridge, I know breakfast will have to change radically, as I get rid of Cream of Wheat, Shredded Wheat, English muffins with their lovely nooks and crannies, and eggs (so much for scrambled or hard-boiled eggs, or frittatas or omelets). Snacks, too, will change, as I pull out crackers and peanut butter, although at least I can get gluten-free crackers and almond butter.

Still, I’m not terribly worried about being home and dealing with these things, since I already cook and bake a lot and have been experimenting with gluten-free and egg-free for other reasons. What’s harder is venturing out into the world.

Yesterday at Harvest on the Harbor, every time I ate something I’m allergic to, I couldn’t help feeling a pang, knowing this might be the last time: pizza, gelato, grilled cheese, chocolate eggnog (pretty awesome, I have to say), pretzels, artisan bread, and probably some things I wasn’t even thinking about.

Even worse was food planning and shopping. Flipping through my books for good recipes, I kept finding things that had eggs, or ginger, or some form of gluten (bread, wheatberries, couscous, spelt, bulgur, barley). At Rosemont Market and Bakery, I realized that I won’t be able to buy any more of their awesome bread, just inhale the wafting scent. 

Stranger, though, is realizing that I’m feeling regretful for foods that I haven’t eaten in years and don’t even truly want. The simple fact that they’re forbidden calls up an odd yearning, more nostalgia than reality. For instance, seeing all the Halloween candy, I suddenly think about not having Reese Peanut Butter cups, or peanut M&M’s, or Snickers. I smile sadly at pretzels and Wheat Thins and animal crackers and Cheerios. 

I wonder if I’ll crave those things more as I cut them out, if I’ll feel compelled to try them simply because I can’t have them, not because I want them. I’d like to think not, especially since I’m sure I’ll find other foods and recipes I can eat. 

But the holidays will be hard, since I may well do baking with gluten for other people while letting them know not to give me anything having that or eggs. Cookie swaps will only be possible with those willing to get creative with their baking, and holiday parties (or pretty much any social gathering) will be tough. I had gotten in the habit of taking my family out to high-end restaurants for dinner as their gift, but that will probably go by the wayside, and eating out in general will be tricky.

I suppose in some ways that’s what I’m grieving more than anything - the inability to partake in some of these foods with others. It’s different, somehow, when it’s by necessity rather than choice.

On the up side, I remind myself that none of these allergies are life-threatening, and if I very occasionally have a small amount of food on this list, it’s not the end of the world. And since I might be able to eat some of them again if I avoid them long enough, perhaps I shouldn’t think of it as farewell, but instead bid au revoir to these favorite foods, and hope for the best.

What's Gained by Dieting?

Diets always make me think about losing. Pounds and inches, of course - or at least, that’s the hope - but also freedom and flexibility in meals, the ability to see food as something more than a collection of nutrients and calories or points, and unselfconscious joy in eating.

But surely to balance the scales, losing so much must mean a gain somewhere, right? Isn’t that, after all, the point of dieting, to lose pounds so we can gain something else?

Except I’m not sure everyone thinks that part through. Some group programs may ask what your goal is, or at least Weight Watchers did when I was part of it decades ago. Responses ranged anywhere from being comfortable in a bathing suit, to fitting into old clothes, to climbing stairs more easily. My own answer then and ever after when trying to lose weight was to climb Mt. Katahdin.

Yet we never went deeper than that. What do these goals gain you? What is the core of what you’re seeking that made you want to try a diet?

For those wanting to be comfortable in a bathing suit, perhaps the gain is better body image, or self-confidence, or simply drawing appreciative looks.

If you want to fit into old clothes, perhaps you seek to gain a feeling of youth and vigor, of how you felt when you were younger. Maybe you want a more carefree life, or a greater sense of possibility.

When climbing stairs, maybe you want to gain trust in your body, feeling strong and capable and assured.

In my case, although I didn’t know it when I was 12 (or at least didn’t admit it to myself), I didn’t want to climb Katahdin simply for love of the mountain. I wanted to gain my parents’ approval and pride.

The problem is, if we don’t understand these deeper reasons, they become secondary, and we focus only on all the restrictions and rules of the diet, not the reason for it. We also fail to recognize that perhaps if we addressed those true reasons and tried to make those positive gains first, the diet might become irrelevant.

Consider. If you focused on having a positive body image and self-confidence, you will present yourself differently and others might find you attractive regardless of how you look in a bathing suit. Or if you want to be more like your younger self, if you act in a more youthful and energetic way, you might become so. If you want to trust your body and feel capable, acknowledge what strengths and abilities you do have and foster those; more could follow. And if you want someone’s approval, consider talking to them about it. You may find you already have it.

And if you gain all these wonderful things, it’s very possible that what you eat may change naturally, without rules or counting or imposed limitations, as you feel better about yourself and what you can do. 

So if you’re considering a diet, perhaps instead of asking what you want to lose, ask what you want to gain.

Public Comments

Being extremely overweight isn’t something you can hide. At best you can minimize it, wearing clothes with slimming designs and colors, and having good posture. Perhaps this constant visibility is why strangers seem to believe it’s okay to publicly comment on weight.

This happens all too frequently. Much of the time we don’t hear about it, but a couple of recent news stories highlighted this fact. The first was about Jennifer Livingston, an overweight news anchor. She received an e-mail from a man who said that as a public figure and therefore role model, it was Livingston’s responsibility to rethink her weight and promote a healthier image. 

Another was more local, about a Maine woman named Amanda Tyson who got many hurtful comments about her weight when she was in middle school. Only recently has she been able to lose weight and gain the confidence to speak out about the bullying she received. But even now, 70 pounds lighter, when she posted a picture of herself in a bikini, she got some negative responses, including some suggesting that she kill herself.

I wish I could be surprised by this, that these sorts of incidents are rare and unusual. Unfortunately, this is simply not the case. I certainly suffered my share of insults and bullying in high school because of my weight, and I know many others do as well. Even when comments aren’t not as vitriolic, such as when a woman said something to me about being “such a big girl”, or when someone offers unsolicited advice on weight loss, it’s insulting and off-putting and usually hurtful.

In thinking about this, I remember Mary Pipher’s comment in Reviving Ophelia that the are obese are social lepers. And she’s right - being overweight is generally considered a moral failing, indicating some deficiency. I suspect that is why others think it’s okay to express their negative reactions so publicly and intensely.

Except it’s not okay. Being overweight has enough challenges and usually brings its own share of self-doubt and lack of confidence; hearing such reactions adds exponentially to that. 

It’s also challenging to know how to respond. While it might be tempting to say something equally harsh and negative, I like the approach Livingston and Tyson suggest: to remember that those making such comments are often hurting themselves, perhaps severely, and that the best response is kindness and compassion. 

Note: I wrote a Letter to the Editor regarding the story about Tyson, which can be found here, the fourth story down.

Reasons I Don't Like to Overeat

I don’t like to overeat, for a few reasons. The problem is that I don’t always remember what the reasons are, at least not in time to prevent overeating, especially since it’s not something I do often. This past week was a prime example, when I overate for a couple of days in row, something I almost never do and which resulted in a painful reminder of why I prefer to avoid this.

It happened when I attended a work conference. The first day was mostly fine because it was pre-conference, just prep, so we didn’t have quite as much food around. But that evening I went out to dinner at a great Mexican restaurant called El Vez (http://www.elvezrestaurant.com/), and the food was so good I ended up eating more than I needed: guacamole and chips; mahi-mahi tacos; and splitting two desserts with a co-worker, the El Vez (flourless chocolate cake, peanut custard with caramelized bananas, chocolate sauce, peanut butter ice cream), and the Tres Leches cake.

El Vez dessert

That night I slept terribly. This is the first reason I don’t like to overeat. I got snatches of sleep, but mostly my body was wide awake with energy from all that food, bad enough that eventually I got up around 2 a.m. and started reviewing my presentations just to give myself something to do.

As you might imagine, that meant Tuesday didn’t start off that well. I was quite tired, and in one of those annoying twists, I was hungrier than usual. It’s as if the one large meal stretched my stomach, making me feel like I needed even more to fill it, rather than less as one might expect. Second reason I dislike overeating.

By late afternoon, though, I was feeling okay, and not very hungry when we first went to the dinner event. That was just as well, because for the first hour, all we got were itty bitty appetizers: tuna sushi on a tiny cracker; fig spread on bruschetta; lovely little cups of butternut squash soup; small skewers of chicken satay. We didn’t sit down until a little after 7:30, and we didn’t start getting food until around 8, with our main courses arriving at 8:40 and dessert a little after 9.

The problem was, at that point I was starving and devoured everything. Even worse, what I had wasn’t enough to quiet my demanding stomach, so when I got back to my room I had some trail mix and an apple. Of course by the time I finished that, I was overfull. Any guess what that meant? Yep - another horrible night, this time up between 2 and 4 a.m.

By Wednesday this was starting to catch up with me, but I couldn’t focus on it because I had to get through four hours of presenting before the conference ended. I tried to eat more lightly, and at least when I got home around 11 p.m. I didn’t feel as ridiculously stuffed as I had before, but I still didn’t sleep well.

Thursday, though, was when the final reason I dislike overeating came home to me. I felt physically awful. I was sluggish, unable to focus, and felt battered somehow, as if I’d had a bad fall. My body ached, my stomach was queasy and uncomfortable, a headache knocked insistently at the back of my head, and I was generally miserable. It wasn’t until Friday afternoon that I felt mostly back to normal.

The only good thing is that I don’t feel guilty anymore for such things. I do wish that I’d remembered these reasons beforehand, which perhaps would have helped me make a few better choices. I can only hope that writing this will help for any such future events, so that next time I can come home and not have to spend a day or more recovering from too much food.

Saved By the - Doughnut?

Although doughnuts are shaped like life preservers, I had never considered them to be life-saving in any way. Then I read an article about them in the Portland Press Herald, and saw how heavily they featured in the book Olive Kitteridge, and it made me think about them a little differently.

The article “Mainers Hooked on Hole Food” talks about the popularity of doughnuts in the Northeast. We consume more doughnuts than almost any other area of the country, about 49% more, in fact. I was therefore amused a few days later when I started reading Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, which takes place in Maine and mentions doughnuts in almost every one of the stories. 

Why is this? Even I, something of a doughnut snob (fresh-made only, thank you, or from one of the more gourmet doughnut stores - no Dunkin’ Donuts for me), admit that they’re a very tasty treat, but is that the only reason they’re so popular?

According to Tom Piscopo, owner of The Cookie Jar, doughnuts are “an emotional rescue”. Others interviewed for the Press Herald article indicate that doughnuts are “fun”, “a cheap thrill”, and a “comfort food”. And with the economy still being down, something inexpensive, tasty, and comforting may certainly be a “rescue” for someone. What I don’t know is if people recognize that they’re might be eating the doughnut for emotional reasons, and not because they’re hungry? And if so, do they even care? 

They may not. In an interview with Strout about Olive Kitteridge, when asked about the prevalence of doughnuts in the stories, the author replied, “Doughnuts are a source of comfort to [Olive], as they are to many people. She’s not entirely careless about her physical well-being, but the doughnuts represent a certain heedlessness in her desire to appease her appetites.” (p. 297)

That might ring true for many people, not just Olive. But in one story, “Starving,” doughnuts were more than a comfort. They became a literal attempt to save a life.

The story features a girl who is anorexic and in a pretty bad way. “The girl’s head seemed much too large for her body; veins were visible on the sides of her forehead, and her bare arms as skinny as the slats of the chair back she took hold of.” (p. 92) 

A couple of the townspeople are trying to help her, and one of them happens to have doughnuts. “He picked up [a] doughnut. He said, ‘To my memory, I have never begged for anything.’ Just slightly the girl smiled at him. ‘And I am begging you to eat.’

“The girl sat up slowly. ‘Only because you’ve been nice,’ she said. She ate the doughnut so ravenously Daisy had to tell her to slow down.” (p. 94)

Then Olive stops by and also eats a doughnut. She tells the girl, “‘I’m starving, too. Why do you think I eat every doughnut in sight?’” (p. 95)

This exchange hit me harder than almost anything else in the book, not only because it’s about food, but because it strikes so deeply to the heart of our conflicted relationship with food. On the one hand, a girl who is willing to die rather than eat, and on the other, a woman who is willing to eat in an attempt to save herself from a different type of death. 

Can doughnuts, or any food, save you? I can’t truly say. I think they can help you cope, but my concern is when that becomes the only way to cope, or to get through life. It seems to take the joy out of it.

Happily most of us aren’t in straits quite so dire, and we can enjoy a doughnut now and again simply for the fun of it. And personally, I enjoy it even more knowing that I’m not expecting it to save me - I can simply savor the doughnut for itself, in all its fried, baked, glazed, frosted, filled, and/or sprinkled deliciousness.

Haunted by Past Words

I’ve always been puzzled by the phrase, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Maybe the person who came up with it was in denial or somehow truly managed not to let themselves be hurt by words. All I know is that it wasn’t true of me, nor is it of anyone I know who’s struggled with being very overweight. Because while I’ve somehow managed to avoid ever breaking a bone, I was haunted for many years by some of the things people said.

Some of the words were deliberately meant to be painful. People calling me names - cow, porky, etc. - or making fun of me because of my weight. But in some ways those hurt less than the people who thought they were giving good advice, because at least the mean ones weren’t telling themselves they were helping me in some way.

For instance, I was ten when a chiropractor told me that I was heavy for my age. I’m sure she meant well, wanting to let my mom and I know it was something to keep an eye on out of concern for my health, but it was a shock. I had never thought about my weight before, even though I was pudgy, never worried about what I ate. After that pronouncement, though, that all changed. 

She was only the first of many people who tried to talk to me about my weight in what they thought was a positive, helpful way, except that never seemed to work. It left me feeling even worse about my appearance and size, and wanting to turn all the more to food for comfort. I know that more than once I deliberately overate after someone commented on my weight, in a spirit of rebellion, then hated myself all the more for that. Not very helpful.

The worst, though, was the doctor who insinuated that the reason I got a staph infection was because I was unhygienic, which must be the case for someone as heavy as me. I cannot even begin to describe how horrible and humiliating that was. Nor could I think of anything to prove him wrong. I was too battered by my pain, my self-esteem too low to think I could argue with a doctor, nor did I know that staph infections are fairly common and don’t have anything to do with weight.

I’m sure many people have painful memories of hurtful things that were said to them, but when you’re overweight, I feel like it happens more. Given all the focus on obesity these days, it may almost be expected to try to speak to someone about their weight, if they’re very heavy. I just wish that people realized how those words get carried into the future, and the negative impact they can have, no matter how well-intentioned they might be.