MaggieRoseBowl had a great blog today. Well, she often has great blogs! Check it out, here:
Her blog got me thinking, and I hope I don’t offend anyone with this train of thought, stream of consciousness thing going on here.
I am a fat girl. I may release the next 50-60 lbs eventually (please let me get rid of it, really) but even once it’s gone, I will still be a fat girl. I may not be fat physically, but in my mind, in my body, I will be. Are some of us who are overweight.. obese.. morbidly obese.. are we akin to alcoholics? Where, even if we kick our habit, we will always be that addict?
Now, I’m not saying I’m addicted to food. I believe I have control and choice over what goes in my mouth (isn’t that what an addict says?) and to that end, I have released the last 60-odd pounds. I have improved my health and my well-being, my shape and my form. But will I always be one bad decision away from gaining it all back?
Part of why I’m looking at things this way is the fact that for me it seems SO easy to gain or maintain weight. Why can I work hard, in earnest, for weeks, and have a bad day or two and I’m up X lbs? I know, I know, there are a variety of scientific reasons for that gain, anything from sodium to time of the month to amount of sleep to .. yea, I get it.
I’m not complaining about where I am right now. I’m actually starting to understand where I am right now.
I’m dealing with a fair amount of anger. I am internalizing my anger, I am rationalizing my anger, I am adopting the “X happened even after losing weight, so obviously it doesn’t matter if I lose or not, X happened and can happen again, regardless of what I lose” dangerous attitude. The only good thing about that is that I’m starting to recognize it. That’s good, right?
Name the enemy, and take away its power. Face it, and triumph.
I’m gaining right now. I’m eating very very poorly right now. I can keep it together at work, for breakfast and lunch, and for snacks. But once I get home it all goes to hell in a handbasket – and it’s an ugly handbasket, not even a pretty decorated one, it’s just trashy.
Oh, to clarify – Maggie’s blog did not bring me to these conclusions and last few paragraphs. I’ve been trying to figure out where my head is lately for a while now. I busted poor Teresa’s chops over drinking Coke (I’m still grateful you know it wasn’t meant meanly or spitefully) and yet I’m .. I’m out of control myself. It may not be Coke that’s doing it to me, but it’s food in general. It’s eating out. It’s making lousy choices. It’s hurting myself with food. It’s feel stuffed and uncomfortable, and going back to the cabinet to see what else I can put in my mouth to try and satisfy the taste memory that’s going on in there. It’s always easier to point that wagging finger outward than it is to curl it back and point it at yourself.
I’m angry and hurt and I have to figure out a way to deal with it. The logical part of my brain has a pretty good idea of what I need to do, but I’m not there yet. Swallowing the anger is not working, obviously. Because the more I swallow my emotions, the more I try to stuff it down and keep it in with food, food, some food, more food, maybe a bit more food, how about more food, and food.
That is not going to work. Not anymore.