I hate food. I seriously, really hate it. You might ask, how can someone so fat hate food? Well, I can hate it, but I still have to have it to live. If only it weren’t that way at all. I hate how it makes me feel, and I hate that it’s my own fault that it makes me feel that way. It all comes back to me, and I acknowledge that.
When my siblings and I were kids, my Mom was an awesome cook. We were made sure to have three meals a day, two of which were usually home cooked. Don’t forget to add on those after school snacks, and the ice cream or pop corn before bed. And no, we did not eat either healthy portions or healthy foods. And I’ve always been “large” – yeah, that means fat. Always.
Now, since I’ve become “aware” that I hate how fat I am, I hate how I look and I would love to feel better about myself by losing weight, I’ve examined every possible reason for WHY I am so overweight. I’m thinking if I can understand the reason why, I can change my lifestyle and get some weight loss going on here. I’ve come down to the conclusion that I just plain and simple love the taste of it. If it were socially acceptable to eat a meal, chew it up and spit it out rather than swallow it, that would be my Utopia. I have very strong taste buds, and they are a source of great pleasure for me.
I have tried, over and over, even very recently, to change my lifestyle, my way of eating and my food choices… and it works, for awhile. I cannot maintain that for very long. Let’s face it, a breakfast sandwich and Frappe from McD’s is a whole lot better tasting than a bowl of oatmeal and an apple or banana. Even if it fills me to the extent that it makes me feel like absolute crap afterwards. I’ve proven I can lose the weight if I can eat right. I have not yet proven that I can maintain eating right of my own free will. I’ve tried to tempt myself with nice clothing, with “do it for Al”, “do it for yourself”, “do it for your grandchildren”, “do it for God”! I cannot get myself on board for any length of time.
I found myself feeling like an absolute blimp at lunch today after eating a KFC “bowl” and a McD’s medium Frappe. I STILL feel awful, and I will not want to eat dinner with my husband as a family. But, I will, because that’s what families “do”. I felt full at lunch after eating only about 1/3 of the bowl, but I kept going. This little voice in my head kept saying “Finish your plate. There are people starving in Africa.” I looked at my bowl and could not get myself to throw it away! And now I’m paying the price with discomfort. Serves me right!
Did I tell you that in 1988 I had my stomach stapled? It worked so well, but was not without its nightmares! Even today, I have a very small capacity for food in my stomach. A half sandwich will do me fine for lunch. A small bowl of cereal for breakfast is great, and one hotdog (no bread) and 3-4 fries is all I need to be full for dinner. But still I choose to overeat. Is it truly a flavor addiction? I wonder.
After I first had my surgery, it took me months/years to “learn” how to re-eat so I didn’t make myself sick. Not sure I ever really did get that down (so to speak). I vividly remember eating the “wrong thing” more often than not, and spending hours, sleepless nights even, vomiting or wanting to vomit but being unable to. You see, I’d rather die than vomit. In fact, to me, vomiting is the closest thing to death without actually dying. So, in many ways, I simply refused to allow myself to when it probably would’ve made me feel better in the long run. And, back in the 80’s, we did not have “support groups” for fat surgery. Even so, I did lose weight. I lost 30 lbs before I ever left the hospital. Then I continued to lose through the 80’s and 90’s and it was GR8! Overall, I think I lost about 98-99 lbs before it leveled off and I began to gain again. I learned that eating junk food digested easier, tasted better and made me feel better.
It was a tough road, and it took a long time, but I finally gained back all the weight I’d lost and a little more! Success!! ??? That’s where I am today. Sitting here approximately 5-6″ from my desk because my ample belly is in the way from me reaching my desk. That ample belly that I know is the greatest risk of me dying sooner rather than later. What’s it going to take before I finally hit rock bottom and decide I need to start losing (again) and maintain it?! A heart attack? And someone needs to have a serious discussion with my enabling husband. I have had such a discussion many times, but he does not maintain it either. He brings me chocolate, ice cream before bed, soda… I’m not blaming him, as he does it out of love and wanting to please me. I have, in the past, begged him not to capitulate to my food whims. Neither of us maintains. Sometimes I look at him like he’s a saboteur, then feel bad. He has this “way” of guilting me into eating, even if I am full and don’t want to! At dinner, “Aren’t you going to eat something?” “Aren’t you going to eat with me?” Eating is always a social event to him. We go to visit his mom, we must eat and eat big (she used to be, but no longer, a gourmet cook). I’d try to nibble just a little of each thing, but was always pushed by his family for not eating enough. He never did speak up for me, even knowing I could potentially spend the entire 2 1/2 hr ride home sicker than a dog.
More food for thought? Recently there were two incidents that happened that really brought it to the forefront, once more. Shopping at Lane Bryant at Destiny USA – cause that’s the only “fat store” locally that might have something pretty for Valentine’s Day, I was browsing in the lingerie department cause I’m “older” but I ain’t dead. I just wanted something new and pretty for our special V Day weekend. A customer service person approached me and asked if she could help. I explained I was looking for something special for Valentine’s Day and she actually took me my the arm and redirected me away from the pretty, sexy things to the frumpy, cotton, tee shirt type crap! She said “Oh, we have something just right for you right over here.” I left informed, not insulted.
The second recent eye opener was literally an eye opener. I was going through our 2013 vacation photos and came across several Al had taken of me, and I gave them a thorough examination. I was simply aghast. I had no idea that I was that big! You know how you have a certiain idea of what you look like to others? I was duped. I didn’t look “that bad” in the bathroom mirror, which is quite large. Holy cow! Meant literally, or something more like a pinniped (seal). It embarrassed me to myself. A couple months ago I was thinking I was a pretty beautiful woman, but this was NOT beautiful! I just kind of stared at some of the photos of myself for a few minutes, burning the memory into my mind so as to give me momentum to maintain once again.
So, here I am. This is, essentially, a vent. It’s one of those “ate too much at lunch, feel like crap and wanna puke” vents. I’ve never been this honest about this aspect of my life, but here it is. This is my life. Where am I going from here? Well, I’m not going to give up! I’m going to go home and have yet another talk with my enabler husband, shop for better foods (fresh fruits/veggies) and get back on the wagon yet again. Dinner tonight? I doubt it. Lunch today will last me clear into tomorrow mid-morning. “Sorry Honey, eating by yourself tonight. I’m going to work on my quilt, I’m not hungry!”
Thanks for stopping by and reading my blog. TTFN – Tamara Eckstadt