Eating for Others

No, I'm not pregnant -- no, no, no, nevermore. What I'm reflecting on today is how difficult it is to disentangle the emotional ramifications of food from its purely nutritive aspects. I'm not really talking, here, about eating to self-comfort, but about how other people respond when you decline something they have made (or bought) for you that you do not want to eat. Or that you really, really do want to eat but shouldn't. Or that you've promised not to eat for a whole year (who would do something that crazy, I ask you?).

Oh beautiful pineapple -- why do you hate me so?

It's one thing if you're allergic. I'm allergic to avocados and pineapple (wah!) so I feel no guilt whatsoever in not eating food containing those ingredients. But I'm not allergic to cornbread, or cookies, or potatoes. And that's what I was faced with this weekend -- delicious, delicious homemade iron-skillet cornbread, sugar cookies made specially for us, and potatoes that couldn't, by any stretch, be politely picked out of a vegetable soup.

Nom. Nom nom nom.

So, as you've probably guessed, I ate what was set in front of me. We went to visit some elderly relatives of my husband's and she had prepared a delicious meal just for us. To be honest, health-wise it was not over the top. No scalloped potatoes or deep-fried chicken. The desserts were fairly light. But none of it was "on my diet."

Yes, I could have said "no thanks, I'm on a diet." Maybe I should have said that. But there is something so off-putting, to me, about sitting at a table where everyone is eating except one person, who is not eating by choice. It seems rude, to me. I know that our hostess would not have been offended (probably), but she probably would have felt guilty  in that good Southern hostess way, that she didn't cook something I could eat. And while I'm on the subject, I also think it's rude to require someone to change their whole menu just for you. [Again, I'm not saying that these are immutable etiquette rules -- I'm talking about how *I* feel about issues surrounding refusing food.]

So yeah, I could have lied. I could have said that I don't like any of that stuff. But that also comes across, to me, as rude, having been raised to at least try something of everything on your plate and not to refuse to eat food offered by one's hosts. I REALLY don't like seafood, of any kind, but honestly, if I go to someone's house and they serve seafood, I'm going to pretend that I like it. I was raised to believe that's just good manners.

I could have lied and said I'm allergic to corn, or wheat, or meat. But that kind of lie, besides being a little over the top, can also come back to bite you in any number of ways. First of all, all my in-laws were there, so they'd know I was lying. But even if they didn't, it would mean, given the fairly basic nature of the food we were eating, that future meals with this couple would be pret-ty limited (and also more likely to contain seafood -- urgh).

I could have said I was full. But again, that seems rude to me. If you know you are going to someone's house for a meal, why would you fill up beforehand. I get pissed off at my husband if he snacks before dinner, if I'm cooking, because I see that as disrespect for the effort I'm putting into making him food.  I could have brought my own food, but that also seems off-putting to me -- it seems supercilious and snobby TO ME. It's like saying, "Yes, I'll spend time with you, but I can't eat what all you normal people eat -- I need *better* food."

The mantra of many diet programs is probably familiar to many of you: If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. But I did plan (a little). I ate some cheese on the way down, hoping it would curb my appetite a bit. But I wasn't prepared for the emotional landmine that surrounds family meals. Or formal family meals at any rate. I know some of you will say "But it's family -- they have to take you however you are." That's true, to an extent, but this is family we don't see very often, and I am very new to this family. I mean, she got out her good china for cornbread and beef stew.

I know that a lot of what I've said here reveals a lot more about my own issues with food than it has to do with the etiquette of dining.  But I also have to think that I can't be alone in this -- what is it about food, and eating in groups, and *preparing* food, that causes such intense emotional reactions?

No thanks, Grandma -- I'm just going to have a salad

In the end, I ate. I had cornbread, and soup (two bowls!) and cookies. I skipped the pecan pie, but that's mostly because I don't like it, and I felt I had earned one refusal since I had eaten everything else. I didn't go overboard. And I know I paid the price for it, both in breaking my pledge for the first time and in setting back whatever progress I've managed to eke out over the last two weeks. But I made a sweet lady happy (or kept her from being unhappy) and it seemed worth it at the time. I've been otherwise very disciplined over the last two weeks, but mostly by avoiding situations where I'd be tempted. But I'm going to have to come up with some strategies for dealing with more difficult eating situations if I'm going to manage to stick it out until 2014.

The First Step...

… is admitting you have a problem.

So hi guys. I know it’s gone silent around here. Dead air. It’s not that I haven’t had things to say, but for awhile there it was hard to figure out which of the many voices fighting for attention was going to get the floor. This is The Fat Dancer, but should I focus on the Fat part or the Dancer part? Or both? And how?

There was some other stuff going on, too; just life stuff but pretty distracting and also a general time suck, and blogging had to take a back seat for awhile.

And then there’s the happy, happy fact that I’ve managed to gain 15 pounds since I started blogging. In 10 weeks. Quite an accomplishment, if I do say so myself.

I’ve been thinking a lot about body positivity during the hiatus, and I’ll have much more to say on that in the days to come, but in the meantime, my clothes don’t fit. And as much as I’d like to come to terms with, and even learn to love, how I look at this weight, I am not at a place where I can own that. I don’t like feeling squeezed into everything except yoga pants, and I don’t like what I see in the mirror.

Even more than the weight, though, is how I’ve been feeling, which is basically yucky. I’ve been sick more this semester than I can ever remember being. My stress levels are up again, I’m tired, and maybe even a little depressed. Which is ironic given that I justify my carb-eating extravaganzas by telling myself that carbs are what make me happy. Gotta love irony.

I’m also tired of feeling all angsty about my struggle with weight and food (which lately has been less a struggle than a total surrender). I’ve talked before about my carb addiction, and I was half joking, but only half. Now it’s time for rehab. And we all know rehab doesn’t work without accountability.

So I came up with a solution that combines all of my non-day-job hobbies and habits -- dance, writing (in the form of blogging), cooking and body/weight/diet issues – and public accountability. Starting Dec. 1 (which was yesterday, I know, but I’ve been stuck in avoidance mode – so shoot me), and for the next 13 months, I am committing myself to changing my approach to food, and dealing with my carb addiction. With the support of my family (even my cauliflower-hating daughter who knows what she’s in for), I will be switching from the “eat whatever you want” diet (which I have clearly demonstrated is enormously successful at putting on about 1.5 pounds per week) to a low glycemic load diet, which essentially means no bread, pasta, rice, potatoes or white sugar.

I have no illusions that the next 13 months will be easy; nor do I have any expectation that this transition will occur without its occasional slip-ups and mistakes. But I will use this space, at least in part, to blog about my journey.

This does not mean that I am turning this blog into a diet or weight-loss blog. It’s still going to focus on body image, dance, and other related issues. The focus of my experiment is not really weight loss, even though I do expect to lose some weight. But I will not be tracking daily progress or pounds lost per week here. I will be focusing on the fact that I’m doing what I’m doing out of love for myself and as part of honoring the body that works so hard for me. I will NOT be doing this from a place of body hatred – I know that has to change for me to change anything at all.

That doesn’t mean I won’t talk about weight loss if it happens, but that’s not the point. The point, for me, is a) making a transformation that I believe will ultimately have a positive impact on many aspects of my life and b) sticking to something for a year, even when it gets hard.

And when it does get hard, I’ll just tell myself I can wait until Jan. 1, 2014, and then I can eat as much mashed potatoes and pasta as I want. I have some faith that on that day, I won’t want as much as I think I do, and that I will have learned to honor my body enough to not overdo it too much.

In addition to this blog, I’ve started two boards on Pinterest – one on low glycemic load recipes (The Fat Dancer’s Dinner), and one on body image (The Fat Dancer). I’ve got a new logo that should help tie everything together as well. Feel free to follow them as well as this blog.

That leaves only one thing left to do. In the tradition of all rehab programs everywhere, the first step toward recovery is admitting you have a problem.

My name is Lara, and I have a problem with food. But I’m going to do something about it. Join me on my journey.

Working the Steps

So, getting the "inside me" to meet the "outside me" in the middle will definitely involve changing some things, including changing some things about the way I think, but also accepting that maybe there are some things that just aren't realistically going to change in the next year, or five years, or maybe ever.

One of those things that's not going to change is my relationship to carbs. Carbohydrates are my kryptonite, but only if Superman was not only weakened by kryptonite but also loved it and wanted to roll around in it every chance he got. When I was a kid, it was a family joke that if we ever went to a buffet, my plate would be covered in white food -- mashed potatoes, white gravy, rice, chicken and dumplings, noodles, pudding -- if it was starchy and sort of mushy and filled your mouth completely with awesomeness, then I was all over it (or it was all over me). I'm still that way, although that family joke has done what most family jokes do and shamed me into changing my behavior -- sort of. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love vegetables (and not just the starchy ones) and protein and foods of all colors, but does anyone ever crave a green bean? I don't. When I think about sinking into a state of food-induced ecstasy, I'm thinking french fries, mashed potatoes, orzo, egg noodles, dumplings, fresh hot white bread, cookie dough. I am not thinking chicken breast.

C'mon, admit it -- you didn't even notice that there WAS chicken in this picture.

My daughter has a friend who does not like mashed potatoes. I do not understand how this is possible. My stepson does not like anything that has a pudding consistency. What is wrong with these people? In the interest of full disclosure, these people are also both skinny. So... yeah.

Carbs literally make me happy. And in that sense, although I have never done the kinds of drugs that get you thrown in jail or cause you to need rehab, I believe that carbs are heroin. For me. My behavior in relation to carbs is very much like what I have seen on TV shows about rehab (so I'm totally an expert on this subject). I know they are bad for me, but eating them makes me physically happy in that they feel good in my mouth and emotionally happy in that I get very excited about eating them and am sad when they are gone. I try to give them up, which means going cold turkey, and it's ok for awhile, but I know they're out there. Other people are eating them. People all around me are enjoying that thing that I know would be so awesome.

People rehabbing are supposed to get new friends so they aren't tempted back into their old ways. I totally get that -- but I also get the junkie's resistance to doing this. Who wants to hang around a bunch of non-carb-eating people? How can they possibly be any fun? What joy do they have in their lives? A life without carbs must be a very sad and colorless life, pretending to be enthusiastic about any food other than bread, potatoes, rice and pasta.  But I hang in there for awhile; I try to think about all the reasons that I'm not eating carbs. I try to convince myself I feel SO MUCH BETTER without them. And I do lose weight.

But the siren call is always there and eventually I'll have a piece of bread. And it's so fucking good. Like better than sex or anything else. No, really. This is something I don't think naturally skinny people get. The best physical sensation my body produces comes from eating. Yeah, orgasms are good, but they require effort and don't last very long. Eating a chocolate chip cookie hot from the oven requires no effort, lasts as long as the cookies last, and is instantly repeatable. That's the problem, really.

Once I've had that piece of bread, I'll be back on carbs within a week, wondering why I ever thought not eating carbs was a good idea. And then the weight comes back on as well.  I totally understand why addicts cycle in and out of rehab -- the negative effects of your addiction get bad enough that you want to do something about it, so you try to stop indulging your addiction and the negative effects go away, but the addiction doesn't go away, and the memory of how awesome that addicting thing is doesn't go away either. Once the negative effects subside, that memory takes up a little more of your active consciousness every day.

I know 12-step programs are designed to help people re-construct a life knowing that they will always be addicted and that they can't have the thing that they're addicted to. Maybe Overeaters Anonymous is where I should be. But at this point in my life, I'm not going back to rehab (no, no, no). I'm going to try to be the alcoholic who still drinks a little instead. Lucky for me, if I do fall off the wagon, with my addiction I'm unlikely to kill anyone or get arrested, so the stakes are a lot lower. Also lucky for me, it appears that, in the realm of food addiction, there's some good evidence that it's actually possible to eat your cake and have it too (but not too much!).

So the thing I am willing to change is how I eat, to start with, as well as what I eat, within reason. I'm not quite ready for the total life makeover that 12 steps require, so I came up with my own 5 Steps:

1. Eat slow
2. Eat small
3. Eat smart
4. Stop Sitting!
5. Stay positive

Let's call them the 5 (or 6) S's. My goal is to work on one step at a time until I get it down to a habit that I don't have to think about anymore. I'll be tracking my progress here, starting tomorrow. I'll also be supplementing that with other stuff I've found helpful from The Beck Diet for Life, which is based on cognitive behavior therapy -- in other words, changing the way you think. Maybe if I work these 5 steps long enough, someday I'll actually believe that green bean fries will make me just as happy as McDonalds fries.