What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Five years ago today, February 11, 2008, I ended a year of dieting and reached my goal weight of 145 pounds; I’ve been maintaining a 100-plus-pound weight loss, give or take, ever since.

Sometimes, in the day-to-day slog that is maintenance, I forget how ecstatic I felt that day. Life seemed unreal and magical. Everything I’d always wanted was in my grasp. I remember it as a time of enormous energy and enthusiasm.

A lot has changed since then. I suppose it had to. Maintenance is hard, folks, really hard. It’s not easy to sustain that initial rush of euphoria when everything around you appears hell-bent on enticing you to eat all of the foods that made you fat. The basic message has seemed to be this: if you want to stay at this new and lower weight, YOU must make whatever accommodations are needed; asking for changes in the environment, well, that’s just downright unreasonable. After all, it’s only one little cookie, right?

But I’ve decided that five years of struggle is enough. My goal for the next five years is to find a new paradigm for weight maintenance, something more peaceful and uplifting. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but the thought is pretty intriguing. And invigorating. I’ve also come to see that the last five years have taught me something and I don’t think I could have learned it any other way:

Being healthy is a journey, not a destination.

Beyond Maintenance

Next month I will celebrate my five-year anniversary of maintaining a 100-pound weight loss. It seems like it was just yesterday and yet a lifetime ago. I honestly expected that maintenance would be hard, but I had no idea just how difficult the road beyond would be when the scale hit that magic number, my “goal weight.” For to lose 100 pounds and maintain that loss is not a grand victory in an epic battle, as the world would have you believe. Instead, it is thousands upon thousands of infinitesimal skirmishes, fought and won second by second every day. Or fought and lost second by second every day. The experience of staying lean, it seems, is not unlike being pecked to death by ducks.

I think it’s also a particularly female experience. I’m sure men worry about their weight too, but I don’t think they reach the level of crazy that women do – and I have certainly known crazy when it comes to my weight, both at times when I was lighter and at times when I was heavier. I remember that when my husband first started developing a paunch in his forties, rather than seeing it as a tragedy (as I saw the unwanted flabbiness on my own physique), he joked that his newfound belly was his “power source.” I do not believe that any woman would ever be so self-accepting. The women I know (including me) agonize over every tiny imperfection in our appearance. We berate ourselves for having real, lived-in bodies. We obsess over every small indulgence (chocolate!) and mostly have resigned ourselves to a perpetual state of defectiveness.

Lately though, a little voice in my head has been nagging me, posing a question that I would prefer not to confront. It asks: what could I do in the world, what could I have done already in fact, if weight were not the overriding narrative in my life? What would my life be like if I were not trapped in this endless do loop of diet success and diet failure, defining and judging myself by the size of my dress rather than the size of my impact on the world? Why have I accepted a lifelong preoccupation with a number on a scale when I could have been preoccupied with learning and doing and making the world a better place?

Perhaps I’m being overly dramatic. But then this is what goes on in my head. The last five years have been an emotional rollercoaster and I’m ready now for some solid ground. I’ve decided that the task for the next five years is to figure out how to live a healthy life (which includes a healthy weight), while also living a life that is about so much more than obsessing over health and weight.

I’m not sure exactly what this means, but I think living in the question is often better than finding the answer anyway.

An Ode to Slow Food

My resolution for the new year is to slow things down a bit. That may sound a strange thing for an American to say. After all, don’t we love to compete with each other for who is the busiest and most stressed out? Isn’t “24/7” a badge of honor (even though very few of us actually work anything even close to “24/7”)? And aren’t resolutions supposed to be about doing more, better? Be that as it may, I am determined to decelerate.

One area I’m going to focus on is meal time. There are far too many days when I cram food down my throat as fast as I can so I can get to the next item on the To-Do list. My average breakfast lasts about three minutes, gulped as quickly as possible so I can get out the door to work. Lunch is an all-too-short hour packed with exercise and errands in addition to eating – that is when I’m able to take a lunch break. By the time dinner comes around, I’m often too tired to cook, not because I’ve been worked to the bone, but because my job is hectic and disjointed. So I mindlessly microwave something and eat in front of the tube, before starting the end-of-the-day ritual of getting ready for the next day, preparing the next breakfast and lunch that I will very nearly inhale. It’s an incredibly unsatisfying way to eat. Is it any wonder that I find myself struggling with chocolate cravings in the evening?

We are told that a calorie is a calorie and that weight maintenance is nothing more than the management of calories in/calories out. If you buy this, then a Lean Cuisine lunch at your desk is no different than soup and a sandwich with a friend at a sidewalk café. But they are worlds apart. The first is a matter of utility; the second is enjoying life.

I find myself longing for the experience of a leisurely meal, sitting across a table from another person, nibbling between breaks in the conversation. I fantasize about hours spent gabbing, having friendly arguments over politics, listening to tales of everyday triumph and tragedy, all the while crunching on a salad between sips of iced tea, or savoring a biscotti with a cup of coffee. In this way of being, large quantities of food are not required. What is required is quality, and not so much the quality of the food as the quality of the experience and the relationship. This seems a more civilized way to eat, something far removed from mere nutrition.

We often talk about our bodies as if they were machines and food the fuel, to be monitored and measured and optimized. In that paradigm, you get lectured by your doctor for eating the “wrong” things, right before he gives you a prescription for the latest appetite suppressant. But what if the body is not a machine at all? What if it is a gift to be lovingly nurtured? In that paradigm, you eat foods that bring health and energy, in an enjoyable atmosphere with people you care about. In that scenario, the only prescription you need is permission to take your time.

Happy New Year from Inner Fat Girl!

Tis the season for resolutions and you know what one of the most popular of those is, don’t you? To lose weight of course! This is the cue for all of those ads for popular weight-loss programs, like Nutrisystem, Jenny Craig and the like. The specifics of each system may be slightly different, but there is a sameness to the ads that is striking. Always we see a jubilant, newly slender person, vowing that they will never be that old, fat self ever again. New Year, New You! Right?

Hah!

This is the big lie of weight loss, that once you lose a lot of weight, you become a “new” person. In American-speak, “new” generally means “better.” So, we who have managed to drop some tonnage are encouraged to think of ourselves as improved versions our former selves. We are changed in some fundamental way that makes weight regain impossible. Yet, the statistics show the exact opposite outcome. The vast majority of people who lose a large amount of weight regain all of it (and maybe more) within a year or two. And then the cycle starts all over again, with a new resolution.

Here is what I’ve experienced since reaching my goal weight five years ago:

Your old, fat self never goes away. Never. It is said that there is nothing certain in life but death and taxes. Whoever said this never met my Inner Fat Girl. Inner Fat Girl is indestructible, much like the way roaches are immune to nuclear radiation. Even if She has been kept at bay for five years, She is always in ready position, poised to strike. The only way to defeat Inner Fat Girl is through eternal vigilance.

I know what you’re going to say. Eternal vigilance? Are you nuts? That sounds too hard. Well, you know what? It is hard. And ironically, admitting that it’s hard makes it easier. Another reason it’s easier than you think is because you don’t have to confront Inner Fat Girl head on. You see, Inner Fat Girl is quite sure of Herself, which makes Her vulnerable to attack from the side. You can change one small habit to be healthier, maybe have an apple with lunch instead of chips. Or decide to start taking a ten minute walk every day. Over time, the small things add up and Inner Fat Girl will be too busy to notice, focused as She is with admiring Her own image in the mirror.

The key is to never allow yourself to be lulled into false complacency. Or worse, false pride. The moment you begin to think of yourself as a permanently thin person is the moment you are most vulnerable to regain. Inner Fat Girl will be a permanent companion for the rest of your life and you should be glad of that because She will keep you honest in your efforts to be as healthy as you can be.

There is also something else that disturbs me about this idea of becoming a “new” (read: “better”) person when you lose weight. It implies that there is something wrong with the heavier person you are now. In my view, what is really wrong is our food culture, one that glorifies and celebrates excess consumption, then turns around and blames those who suffer the health consequences.

Here’s a resolution for the New Year: Learn to love your “old,” “unimproved” self and vow to do one new and healthier thing every day. Inner Fat Girl won’t thank you, but She’s like that.

Happy New Year!

The Cookie Monster

Another holiday season draws to a close and I breathe a sigh of relief. No more holiday dinners to navigate. No more holiday parties to agonize over. No more Christmas cookies. Let me repeat that last one.

No. More. Christmas. Cookies.

I encountered a new nemesis this holiday season. As if the sugar cookies and chocolate kiss mice and coconut snowmen were not enough, a new and more powerful foe emerged. An enemy strong enough to bring even the most resolute to their knees. What could this scourge be, you ask?

Creamsicle fudge.  <Shudder>

I am sad to say that I was completely powerless in the face of creamsicle fudge.

Well, so be it. Now, thank goodness, it’s back to my regular eating routine. Yes, yes, New Year’s Eve is still on the horizon, but I will celebrate at home and keep the calories to a minimum. Thankfully, the dreaded Christmas Cookie Monster is now settling his head for a long winter’s nap. Whew!

What did you say? We're having a Second Christmas?

Oh no.

The Darkness and the Light

You may have noticed that I haven’t posted very much recently. It’s not that anything has been wrong or that I’ve been too busy. The truth is that I’ve been stuck in an emotional stew of my own making, a muck of petty complaints and minor annoyances. I suppose we all have our pet grievances and that we all get mired in them from time to time. I had decided to just give myself a little space to find a way out of that darkness, but I got jolted out of my funk pretty quickly after learning of the elementary school shooting on Friday in Connecticut.

I have no intention of going off-topic to talk about that tragedy other than to say it made me realize how much I have to be thankful for. By that statement I’m not saying that my life suddenly became problem-free, just that I see my problems in a different light.

Like my struggle with the food culture. When I took on the challenge of managing my weight six years ago, I thought it was simply about diet and exercise. I figured I’d have to develop a few new habits. I had no idea how it would disrupt my life, that I’d have to develop new habits and new ways of thinking about absolutely everything, that sometimes it would feel like I was at complete odds with everyone around me. I could never have foreseen myself agonizing over whether I should go to an office holiday party (which I did not go to by the way). I could never have pictured how stressful the thought of Christmas cookies could be. Or how bent out of shape I would be that the vision I had of life after weight loss would be so far from the reality of it.

Yet, seen from my new perspective, the upset fades away. This is about my health. It’s a worthy fight. So if someone doesn’t understand why I choose not to eat something, all it means is that they don’t understand. If someone can’t offer me support in the way I need it, all it means is that they can’t offer support in the way I need it. If someone thinks I’m too rigid or picky about my food choices, all it means is that we disagree. If sticking to the diet and exercise routine that keeps my weight in check is hard, perhaps things worth doing should be hard.

None of us gets everything we wished for. With rare exception, that is not a tragedy. It is life. It only took me fifty-five years to figure that out. Better late than never!

Party On Dude!

There is a decision that I have to make. It should be an easy one, but I’m finding it surprisingly hard. The question is: should I go to my office holiday party?

I’ve always gone to my office holiday party. In past years, the custom was that we all went out to lunch at a restaurant. Each of us ordered our meal from a pre-determined menu and it was a sure bet that one of the choices would be something salad-y. This year, for reasons too convoluted to get into here, the plans are different. This year, the party organizers decided to have the lunch brought in. The way it was explained to me was that we would have a local restaurant cater the party. I thought this was a good idea.

Until I saw the menu.

The menu for our holiday party this year is pizza and wings. This is not what I picture when I hear the words “catered lunch.” Don’t get me wrong. I like pizza and wings. A lot. And I don’t want to eat pizza and wings. A lot.

A few have already told me not to make a big deal about it. After all, it’s just one meal. I can eat one piece of pizza and suck it up for sake of the group. Even though I love pizza and will need supreme levels of willpower to eat just one piece.

Sigh.

The holidays are such a minefield for the formerly fat. The way I’ve been dealing with them is to eat like everyone else on Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day, gain the inevitable two to four pounds, and then labor (alone I might add) with losing those pounds afterwards. It’s not an ideal approach, but it allows me to enjoy some time with family and friends without feeling like the big killjoy. On other days, I tow the diet line as much as possible. Including at the office holiday party. You see, my plan includes two days of diet debacle, not three. You might say that I’m being awfully rigid. To that I say, welcome to life after a large weight loss.

Here’s the other thing. I keep wondering why it is that I have to make all of the accommodations? Why can’t we meet halfway? I eat some of your gooey Christmas creations and you make a couple less fattening dishes? Would that be so crazy?

So, should I go to the party or not? If I go, I will either eat too much stuff I shouldn’t or I will spend the entire time struggling to avoid eating too much stuff I shouldn’t. If I don’t go, maybe some co-workers will be bothered, but then again, maybe they won’t. Here’s the real question: whose needs matter the most?

I’ll let you know.