I wouldn’t say I’ve struggled with my weight all through my 20’s and 30’s. I’ve never been the yo-yo dieting sort. I’ve seen what extreme dieting can do to a person… watching someone you care about struggle with an eating disorder… well, it makes you not want to count calories. And it was a pretty traumatic funeral to go to. I just let myself get really overweight… and tried not to worry about it. There was no struggle.
Then right after 9-11… I realized I was creeping up into the "holy crap" territory of being overweight. America was attacked… and because the world seemed to be ending… an extra helping of mac and cheese really didn’t seem to matter much. I ate myself right up to the top of the Lane Bryant size chart… and then had a moment of “whoa” when I was starting to have a hard time finding pants that fit. So…
In 2002… I started Weight Watchers. I lost around 80 pounds total over the course of a year… bringing my two-hundred and mumble-mumble pound body down to a pretty manageable 170-ish. Maybe not the ideal for my weight/height… but I was happy and comfortable at that weight. Had more energy. Life became pretty good…I could shop for clothes wherever I wanted…wear heels without killing my knees…all I had to do was join the cult of counting points. Because that’s what Weight Watchers takes… a near religious commitment to accounting for every bit of food you put into your mouth. (Back then… the plan was “Winning Points” and you’d bank extra points for things you wanted to splurge on later in the week. Today’s plan is different. YMMV.) It worked. And because I’d lost enough weight for exercise to become downright enjoyable… hiking, bicycling….walking the dog… I kept the weight off until my brain started going south in 2007.
Between 2007 and 2008… 30lbs crept back on. Depression is a meanie… and I get the depression where I want to eat… not where I’m too depressed to eat. When it started getting worse… I switched to Effexor… and man… I could have eaten sugar right out of the bag with a tablespoon. 30lbs became 40… and kept going up. I started getting cravings to binge on carbs that I’d never had before. (Not to mention all of the other god-awful side effects I had on Effexor.) But the depression was lifted… and that seemed worth the expanding waistline. I mean… I could always lose weight… but repairing my remaining friendships and marriage… and family relationships damaged by several years on the “I hate life” roller-coaster… seemed worth an expanded waistline and new pants. And considering the mortality rate for depression is about as dangerous as obesity… I again tried to just ignore my weight and get on with life the best I could.
And now… with depression being pretty well managed by a VERY low dose of a more mundane antidepressant… and the careful management of my thyroid problems… I’m left in size 20 pants… wondering how I’m going to get back down to that weight I was happy in…. without rejoining the cult of Weight Watchers. It worked… but I hated being a food accountant. MY LIFE REVOLVED AROUND FOOD. What I could eat … where I could eat it… how much. What I was going to eat next. I talked… about food. Dieting. And other people… well-meaning people… would complement me on how good I looked. And what would we talk about? Food. I do about a zillion other things besides eat… from having a smart and beautiful dog… to crochet… quilling… sewing… reading… listening to and playing music. Etc. But my life was about FOOD on Weight Watchers… and the “Quest for Eating More for Less.”
That’s the problem with dieting… you put the thing you shouldn’t be thinking about… front and center in your life. Problem number two… unless you’re ALWAYS on a diet… dieting doesn’t work. We have a zillion years of evolution telling us to hold on tooth and nail to every calorie we take in. Add my thyroid problem already making it very difficult to lose weight… and I’m never going to model for Victoria’s Secret. Maybe Victoria’s middle-aged older sister Eunice’s Secret. But after I’d lost the weight… I did manage to keep it off for quite a while without much effort. Being thinner made activity easier. Feeling better makes you want food that… well… makes you feel better. Not “comfort food” but stuff like vegetables. I was lucky that walking and exercise had become a bigger part of my routine… because I know the first thing to go out the window was counting points…
So I’ve been reading up on other diet ideas while avoiding the fad diets. The Beck Diet Solution is more of a behavioral solution. I’ve tried it… and since it’s based on a therapy model… it seems like something that would work better if a therapist or coach facilitated it. It works… but only for people who are also big fans of therapy. I also read all of Dr. Walther Willett’s books… the “Eat More, Weigh Less” philosophy and really do believe in what he says about whole foods… and eating to live… and food that is good for you tends to be low calorie… so we should eat more of it.
But again… hard to follow what’s basically a dietician’s guidelines when I’m working to 7pm and come home hungry enough to eat my dog. What the hell… don’t people who eat healthy have LIVES? Sometimes… you just have to grab a burger because it’s the only food around for miles… and the alternative to eating is getting a hunger migraine. (Skip a few meals… and yeah… they’re fun.)
So… as a counterpoint…I’ve been reading Linda Bacon’s “Health at Every Size” and have to say that a lot of what she says is intriguing… but some of it smacks of the Fat Acceptance Movement. I am never going to accept that weighing nearly 300lbs at 5’ 7” is healthy. Weighing more than that… is not a glandular problem. It’s a distinct lack of physical activity plus some sort of compulsive overeating that really should be addressed medically. People who are overweight should not be discriminated against. But neither should they expect to go to their doctor and not have their weight discussed… OR expect the “average sized” world to cater to their size. I mean… from amusement park rides to airline seating… there is ONE SIZE FITS MOST. And if you weigh 450+ lbs… accepting that there are going to be a few things you won’t be able to do comfortably at that weight is going to be a lot like a blind person having to accept that they’ll never get a driver’s license… or a little person realizing that they’re not going to make the physical requirements for the military. Your dreams of skydiving… are probably DOA.
And there are a lot of things that cause people to be really, really heavy…besides just overeating and a sedentary lifestyle…hormones, economics, mental health, genetics, education….and gender. Anyone who looks at someone who is obese and thinks that they just LOVE cookies and sit on the couch and eat them all day… well…I’d rather be fat than stupid. Because that kind of thinking is stupid.
I’ll use myself as an example. I guess I’m what I’ll call “functionally obese.” My BMI is right around 40. Bu blood pressure and blood sugar are all normal. My cholesterol is normal. I can still exercise without significant problems. But I sit on my ass almost all day… and try as I might… I can’t seem to break out of it. Put me on vacation… and I’ll walk every day. Go hiking. Bicycle. But after a day of work the last thing I really want to do is run on a treadmill. I’d rather swallow live scorpions than go to an aerobics class. I’ll try to walk at lunch… and eat healthy… but I have hormonal swings… get food cravings… and I’ve always been an evening eater. I’m hungry at night. Not before bedtime… but I like large dinners. And after an hour commute home… I don’t want to spend a lot of time cooking. I come home HUNGRY. My husband does most of the cooking… and most of the time for dinner I’ll out eat him because by the time I get home I’m starving. Physically, mentally… sometimes emotionally. And the physical hunger is the easiest to feed. I’ll start scarfing down anything that isn’t nailed to the table. Then I’ll eat dinner. Then if I’m not comatose, I’ll start poking around for other things to eat to fill in the cracks around dinner. Candy. *munch* Cookies. *munch* Dove Bars *munch* Is it eating disorder bad? No. Is it a really terrible habit? Yes.
A few months ago… I watched the documentary “Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead.” It’s basically about juice fasting… and the body’s need for micro-nutrients… and how we don’t get them in the standard Western diet. Something about this documentary is sticking with me… something besides watching the guy in the movie go from looking like fat middle-aged Australian dude to a rather svelte copy that Peter Walsh guy who comes in and helps you clean out your garage. He cleaned off 30 lbs.… but also developed a love of running and other kinds of exercise along the way that I don’t know that I’d ever get into.
I like to walk my dog. I like to bicycle OUTDOORS… and not on a stationary bike. I also enjoy swimming and reading. Reading is about the only reason I don’t weigh a zillion pounds… because I’ll download a good book to my Kindle and then will forget I’m on the elliptical machine in the wellness center where I work…until my knees start to smolder or someone taps me on the shoulder and tells me it’s time to go home. It doesn’t work the same way with TV… for some reason… watching TV turns my body off… whereas I can read and do almost any physical activity… you know… besides riding a bicycle and driving a car. If I can hold a book steady… I can read and exercise… and forget I’m exercising.
Anyway… the other part of the juice fast documentary that got me was just how… well… healthy the people looked afterward. Not model skinny… or like they’d just been on months of Jenny Craig… but… healthy. And by drinking juice. I LIKE juice… so the idea has been sticking in the back of my mind that maybe I need to go on a juice diet.
And then I smell my coffee… and that Idea goes straight into the trashbin.
