14
May

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Yup. 148.5.

DANG, I wish I was typing 142.5 instead. But even a little is better than the 150-151 where I’ve recently been visiting.

Two things: I watched the Oprah show, “100 people who have lost 100 pounds.” Oprah dedicated her entire May 10 episode to weight loss, food addiction and emotional eating and the 100 Oprah viewers who have each lost as many pounds. I thrilled in their victory. I saw elation and confidence and pride and happiness on their faces and in their  voices. I saw the raw pain as they told their stories. I saw a cardiologist who weighed 320 pounds and felt like the biggest hypocrite in the world. I saw the famous Stacy. We had a flash-back to the very first season of the Oprah show when 25-year old Stacey Halprin wrote Oprah a letter, expressing her desire to shed pounds from her 550-pound frame. I saw [and felt] her head-bowed shame as she admitted her recent 70-pound weight gain.

And second, I watched a segment on the Today show about adult anorexia and bulimia. I heard lots of familiar phrases. “It’s not about the food. It’s about what’s underneath all the feelings. It’s about eating without even thinking. Without even chewing. It’s about the underlying pain. It’s about numbing and medicating and lying, and pretending, and hiding and crying, and killing. It’s about killing. It’s about sometimes [falsely] believing I don’t deserve to live.

So, yah, those two shows brought up a lot of emotion and self-exploration. I sometimes wish I could just FIND that pain. Explore it. Ask it questions. Respectfully ask it to exit my life. So long, adios. I keep thinking if I could just get those answers for myself I wouldn’t have to spend another minute overeating, stuffing, hurting, self-annihilating.

Wouldn’t that be a picnic!

Anyway. I had a really good day  yesterday — for a starter [yes, another starting-over day!] — but I can’t even tell you how difficult it got toward evening. I kept thinking about the cheese in the fridge. Every day for the past month I’ve eaten a whole ton of cheese. I slice off a deck-size portion and tell myself that’s all I’ll eat, and then I go for another and another. Seriously. I can eat a two pound block in four days. And then I have to lie to hubby about the dog getting it. Like he even believes that!!!

So, here we are again at another crossroads. I’m wearing tight clothes, feeling fat and flabby. I can’t even get my arms to hang down straight because of the ‘inner tube’ I have lodged around my waistline, hanging over my belt. And when I fold my arms, they now have a ledge to rest on. My tummy is the same size — or a little bigger — than my boobs! [I used to wonder why women at, say, the mall, would ever let themselves look like that — like I now do! — again!] I’m feeling like a stranger to myself. Feeling like a disappointment. And feeling like ‘failure’ is my default button.

But, I did make it through yesterday. I texted Camille and owned up to my numbers. I blogged. I ate healthy. I drank lots of water and p**d all night. I marked on the calendar. I talked to myself in the mirror and said nice, gooey, thoughtful, reaffirming things. “I am worthy of a healthy body and a healthy life!”

And I’m going for 148 tomorrow. There it is in big red letters! And 142 by my birthday!

Tracy emailed and asked about the top 25 Superfoods I had bloggedfor her Whole Foods class this morning. While searching, I looked back through 587 posts and cried a lot. I saw success and failure and joy and pain and goals and backslides and a whole lot of me wrapped up in those posts. I read about starting this journey and the several times I somehow reached 141 pounds. I read about all my rock-bottoms and all the seemingly overwhelming obstacles I find in myself. I read about all the healthy ways to eat and live and all the commitments I’ve made and broke. I read about years of resolutions and rebounds and roadblocks.

Most of all, though, — what really made me sit up and take note was — I saw, again, first hand — how my weight influenced how I feel about myself. How totally amazing and wonderful and ‘can-do-anything’ and awesome I feel when my weight is healthy and in line with my goals. I read, and could remember, all the ways my weight crippled everything about me when I was even up five little pounds. Hard to believe ten pounds has so much power! And so hard to believe that I often cannot manage to tackle a mere five to ten pounds.

So, bear with me while I start yet another couple weeks of treating myself right and taking off fat. Bear with me while I get all excited about broccoli and spouts again and how push-ups are my daily measurement of achievement. Bear with me while a try to get to that underlying cancer that eats at me every single day of my life and makes me want to make myself invisible with food. [Pretty ironic when I think about it! I want to be invisible, but when I eat, I make myself bigger and MORE visible. I also know with every fiber of my being that numbing myself with food actually always causes more pain than I originally had before the ‘numbing’ process. I’ve always loved good irony!]

Yah. Food doesn’t work. I know that with my brain. I know that. Just have to get the brain to communicate with my mouth. I’ve been talking ‘that talk’ for decades, but I always end up turning to food when life gets difficult, or boring, or sad, or bad, or even glad sometimes. And I turn to food, both, when I succeed or fail.

I feel silly asking the Lord to help me with this because, my heck, there are tornadoes and earthquakes and flooding and abuse and killing and starvation and war out there. He’s pretty busy with all of that. And I have more than I need or will ever need. I have been blessed with so much! Can’t I just get this crap together and eat healthy and exercise and love myself. For the rest of my life?

Love myself?

Please?

Can I just do that?