What Is Your Goal?

“What is your goal? What is it that you want to achieve with your book?”

These are some of the questions coming up in the book publication course I’m taking, and it’s helping to remind me to keep my focus in my mind as I work on my memoir. If I don’t, my concern is that people will come away with the completely wrong idea: that I’m telling them to lose weight, and furthermore how to do it.

It would be an easy mistake to make. After all, how many people write about their experience with weight loss and food without advocating for that and implicitly encouraging others to do the same. But I truly do not want to tell anyone they must lose weight in order to be happy or healthy or a worthwhile human being. We get those messages loud and clear as it is, and believing that only ever made me miserable.

On the flip side, I’m also not telling people not to lose weight. Who am I to say that? After all, you might have very good reasons for wanting to shed pounds. For myself, I doubt I would have ever seen the top of Mt. Katahdin again had I not lost at least some weight, and for me, achieving that was important.

So, then what do I want to say with my book? Put simply, I want to write the story I wish I could have read as a fat teenager.

I want to remind others in similar circumstances that they are not alone, that someone else might understand at least some of what they’re experiencing, that they are worthy of love and respect whatever their body size, that eating is not something to be ashamed of or feel guilty about, that they can decide for themselves what works best for them and their bodies, and that being thin is not a miraculous cure to give you the perfect life.

I want to share my experience because I did believe all the negative focus on weight for long, and it came as something of a shock when I got to my desired weight – and I still had problems. I didn’t have a perfect body, I still lost people I loved, I still had job stress. What truly brought me happiness was accepting myself as I was, finding pleasure in food and my physical self, and letting myself strive for what I wanted in life without waiting for some external validation.

That, I suppose, is my overarching goal. To say that from my experience, being thin or fat are simply parts of the journey; they are not necessarily the destination. The real key is finding your goal in life, and then going for it, in whatever way or shape you can, fast or slow, the direct or scenic route, and to hopefully find joy along the way.

Easter Candy

How do I describe my relationship with Easter candy? Well, it’s complicated.

As a young child, I loved it – chocolate bunnies (though my real bunnies were cuter), chocolates eggs, jelly beans, Cadbury Crème Eggs, and more. I got up eager to see what I had in my basket as well as what I might find on the egg hunt, assuming I could decipher my parents’ sometimes cryptic clues.

That all changed as I got older and heavier. Food in general became problematic, but holidays proved especially trying. On Easter, for instance, although surrounded by candy, I knew I wasn’t supposed to eat it. That fueled my stealth eating, finding ways to stash the candy so I could have it when no one was watching.

And this entry from my mom’s diary, when I was almost 16 and my brother 18, highlighted another part of the problem – from April 18, 1992: “Finalized Easter shopping. Got Erica mostly sugarless candy and a Jim Morrison book. Got Jeremiah regular candy, a cream roll, chips, and $5 for when he goes to [his aunt’s].” (Yes, I was a huge fan of the Doors as a teen.)

I hated that difference in treatment. It emphasized that my brother was perfect, at least in terms of food, whereas I was the problem child. I know Mom was concerned about my health, but it infuriated me. Plus, the sugar-free stuff was no substitute for the real thing, especially when I watched my brother eat his candy and other goodies.

Once I started losing weight, things changed again. When I went into stores and saw the Easter candy, I felt the habitual longing for that sweetness – but that’s all it was, habitual. If I ate much of it, the sweetness quickly overwhelmed me (as I wrote last week, my sugar tolerance has drastically declined). It’s gotten to the point where I feel an odd nostalgia, no longer wanting the candy but in a way wanting to want it, now that I would be free to eat it.

Which isn’t to say that I’m free from temptation – what gets me these days are handcrafted treats. I’m a sucker for those, not for me, but for the young people in my life. For instance, when I saw this chocolate iPhone, I snapped it up, since it seemed perfect for my 11-year-old nephew (and he did like it):

Chocolate iPhone

Similarly, when I read about the handmade peeps from the nearby Rosemont Market, I just had to get some. Even though I’m not particularly fond of peeps and gave most of them away, I did try one – they certainly tasted better than the mass-produced kind.

Handmade peeps

So, while I haven’t exactly come full circle, I’m at least grateful to be at a point where I no longer feel shame about Easter candy, and can even find some joy in it. It’s a much nicer way to spend the holiday.

Chocolate Lover's Fling

Note: For more information on mindful eating, consider the Am I Hungry? Mindful Eating program. You can find more information at www.AmIHungry.com or visit my website.

When I bought my ticket for last Sunday’s Chocolate Lover’s Fling, I decided that I needed a plan so that I could enjoy the four courses of gourmet chocolate desserts but also go home feeling good physically. Given that my sugar tolerance isn’t nearly what it used to be, I knew it would be a delicate balancing act.

My strategy started before I even went. I had a slightly smaller breakfast than usual, then an earlier and lighter lunch. By the time I arrived at the event, I was hungry, but not too hungry. I also felt relieved knowing that we could take leftovers home, since it meant I didn’t feel compelled to eat everything on the spot to “get my money’s worth.”

Still, the temptation to overindulge was strong, because the chocolates looked so beautiful and had mouth-watering descriptions. Here are a few examples:

Mint Needhams 

Chocolate Dipped 

Plus, most other people not only ate everything they got served but got seconds from the chocolatiers. Still, I had no interest in following that example because it would only result in me feeling miserable.

Instead, I took tiny bites of everything I got, but no more. If I loved something, I put it in my take-home box. If I didn’t, I left it on my plate to be thrown out. It helped, too, that our guidelines for judging the samples encouraged mindful eating. They suggested we focus on appearance, creativity, texture, flavor, and desirability, and that we cleanse our palettes between bites (I ended up drinking quite a bit of water this way).

After two hours and four courses (each course having 4 or 5 chocolates), I reached my sugar limit. I didn’t feel badly, but my stomach told me very clearly that the next time I ate, it should be something lighter and healthier. To others, my restraint might have looked like control, but it wasn’t. I simply no longer felt any desire to eat them.

In fact, I didn’t feel like eating anything right away. Once I got home, I instead had some peppermint tea, went for a walk to enjoy the gorgeous spring afternoon, and then waited until I felt truly hungry again before dinner.

My approach worked. I fully enjoyed the chocolate and event, but I also had a lovely evening at home, feeling good physically and emotionally. Plus, I got to savor bites of chocolate throughout the week, all the while remembering how much money it raised for a great local organization (SARSSM – Sexual Assault Response Services of Southern Maine). All in all, I couldn’t have been more pleased, and I will happily consider going again in the future.

Choosing What To Eat

Note: For more information on mindful eating, consider the Am I Hungry? Mindful Eating program. You can find more information at www.AmIHungry.com or visit my website.

If you open your cupboard and look at all the food you have, how do you choose what to eat?

That was the focus of the children’s piece at my church this morning, although it took a somewhat whimsical approach, considering this from the viewpoint of animals. For instance, a panda would have an easy time because they don’t have to choose what to eat. They stick with bamboo. Raccoons, on the other hand, can eat just about anything people do (and probably some things we don’t), so they have to make a choice, just like us. But how?

The kids offered some good thoughts on this decision. One said to not eat the same thing every day, so to have some variety. That makes sense to me, and it’s one of the things we talk about in the Am I Hungry? (AIH) Mindful Eating program – to get a good balance of nutrients, you don’t want to eat the same thing all the same, even if it’s healthy.

Another good point came up: “Pick what’s yummy!” I agree with that one, too. Eating what you love is important, although as the program leader pointed out, we have to be a little careful.

After all, if some of your options are chocolate and sugar, you probably don’t want to eat that all the time. That goes back to variety, but also, as the leader said, you might not feel very good if you ate too much of that, so it’s also important to pay attention to what makes your body feel good. Some sugar and chocolate might be okay (one of the other AIH suggestions is moderation), but it’s probably better to balance that out with other things.

The kids seemed perfectly okay with this idea, and I also saw a lot of heads nodding among the adults. And it got me thinking about how these messages are simple, yet we still seem to have a lot of trouble remembering them.

As the minister pointed out in her sermon, it doesn’t help that our society as a whole is out of balance with our food choices. This means that even the straightforward ideas – eat a variety of foods, choose things that taste yummy and make our bodies feel good – can get lost in the noise.

But I felt heartened to hear this lesson, and to see how well the children responded. The more they (and we adults) can remember that, and keep to those instinctive approaches to eating, the more luck we’ll have as a general culture of getting back to that place of better balance in our food choices.