Forget the Rest

Here we are, at the deadline for my monthly update. How is it going not weighing myself? Like I said  a few months ago, the habit is definitely broken. I don't even think about it anymore. It's just gone. And that's good.

But how is my body image? Some times are better than others. Like right now?

I am 10 months postpartum. I think most people don't realize how long it takes to "recover" from pregnancy. I mean, get back to normal. My recovery is always swift - I feel like a normal person again by the end of the week. However, hormone roller coasters are another thing, and I'm sure it has a huge amount to due with breastfeeding. When I was breastfeeding my first son, at 10 months I magically dropped the last 10 pounds of baby weight - but I went into an emotional roller coaster for a few months that involved a lot of negative thoughts.

I look at my first experience with this as a mixed blessing. I did research into the birth control I was taking, and determined to get off it to help with my sudden depression (that lifted a great weight off, by the way). This was also about the point that I found The China Study and began changing my diet for the better.

I'm going to stop here and remind all my readers that I'm not here to talk about diet. Some of you will know that I have strong ideas here, and I am trying to stay away from "preaching." I am here to deal with body issues, and to hopefully uplift a few people. However, some things are hard to detangle in regards to this, so there might be some references that you disagree with.

When I was 10 months postpartum with my first son, he stopped needing quite as many calories through breast milk (thus the change in hormones). Both then and now, it's confusing to change my perspective on how much I need to eat after that. First, without realizing what's happened, I find myself feeling overly full after each meal. So, I rein myself in. Then, I start thinking too much about how much I'm eating, some thoughts about calories creep in, and, before I know it, I'm wondering if I'm too fat.

There you go. The "F" word.

Previous to this, I had spent several years with my husband guiding me into healthier thoughts about food and my body. When I realized how my thoughts were becoming "dark" once again with ideas of weight loss and calories, I decided I needed to pray. I prayed for inspiration to know how to take care of myself for health, and I prayed that I could pursue that and forget my thoughts about weight and calories.

The answer came, etc, and I was put back on my path breaking down body image issues.

And here I am again, the same place (though definitely not as bad this time around - I personally thank my lack of prescriptions, and my diet change). My hormones are all over the place in reaction to changes in breastfeeding. I've had to look at how much food I'm eating and consider how not to eat too much.

And the thoughts have crept back in.

I started this blog on a very positive, upbeat note. I would like to continue that. But I also want to write the truth. Negative thoughts about your body can consume you if you let them.

Don't let them.

Focus on the good. Focus on health. Focus on vitality.

Numbers mean nothing. God did not give us calorie charts. God did not give us scales. God gave us good, wholesome food to partake of.

We need to take joy in this. And we need to forget the rest.

Principles

This week we borrowed a Curious George (TV show) DVD from the library. The very first episode was about Ted's (the Man in the Yellow Hat) annual physical exam at the doctor's office. He steps on the scale. In a negative tone the doctor informs him that Ted's put on some weight. Ted is shocked, and reports that he only eats one donut a month. Ultimately it's revealed that George was standing on the scale with him, artificially boosting his weight.

Maybe this part of the episode wouldn't have stuck out to anyone else, but my mind has always zeroed in on this stuff - and especially in light of my resolution this year. I almost felt like shutting the TV off. Why were they unnecessarily exposing my child to weight-consciousness?

With further thought I realized it wasn't a big deal, and the episode moved on to more fun, educational stuff that did not (whew) revolve around weight.

I know some think that weight-consciousness might be healthy, but there's several things wrong with this line of thinking. And I'm sure everyone reading knows by now why we're here.

If I'm going to teach my children how to be healthy, I don't want it to revolve around man-made numbers. I want it to revolve around nature-based principles. I want them to know the general principles of how to treat your body for optimal results. I don't want them worrying about numbers. In fact, at this point, the only reason I think there is to keep weighing them is to make sure their car seats fit appropriately.

Oh, by the way, my resolution is going strong! I also believe this is the longest I've gone without weighing myself since I was a child. I'm going to be honest about something though: I have pulled out the measuring tape several times. The nice thing is, this hasn't been interesting in the least. What would I do? Obsess over which centimeter line I land on each day? There's nothing there for my mind to fixate on, which means I have very little reason to get it out regularly. And anyway, the way my pants fit don't lie. I haven't changed at all.

Let's get used to it! There's comfort in predictability.

Perspective

I'm obviously not thinking about my weight as often now, since I'm posting less often. The big reason I'm writing now is because I committed to posting at least once a month, and that deadline is getting closer. What with going out of town soon, it felt safer to get started now.

I feel great! No more obsession over numbers. I have to admit, about a week ago I had a few days where I was really down about how I looked. You know what had changed? The location of our full-length mirror. My husband had finally gotten around to hanging it up for me, and, for the first several days, I noticed it every single time I passed. And, whoa, are those my thighs? You get the picture.

Today, I took the boys swimming, and it was packed with kids. And their half-naked parents. Golly, does that help with perspective. Sure, I was wearing a normal suit that any self-respecting Mormon mom would wear, but there was still a bit more uncovered than usual. It didn't matter, because some women were wearing less, and the really self-conscious ones (or maybe they just have swimsuit issues) were wearing more - and yet most of us had some extra flab. Most of us had cellulite (even the "skinny" people have it). But we were still there trying to have fun.

Seeing everyone like that brings home the idea that it doesn't really matter what size you are. What matters is your health. I'm pretty sure that if I were a size smaller, I would still look similarly to how I do now. I'd just have to buy a new swimsuit (actually, I'd probably make do with some workout clothes - shopping is a pain).

The great thing about the water park was that people were so exposed for an extended period of time - they didn't have the energy to continually fret about it, so most of them stopped caring, if only for the time being. (Though yes, I know, lots of us still avoid this situation.)

I hope more of us can care less about how we look - more often. The body is a tool for use - like splashing and having fun with my giggly boys, running for the adrenaline high (did I mention I run now?), or moving around the kitchen like crazy trying to feed people. If you're not using your body, you're really missing out. Time to eat the food you need to feel good, get the exercise you need to feel good, and always THINK POSITIVELY and love yourself! Only then will you have an extended ability to do good and love others.

Background Pt. 3

I'm into my third month of scale-free living and going strong! I feel that 

I've truly broken the habit of thought now. I do wonder sometimes, but it's no longer at specific points of the day. I think if the scale were back in the bathroom again I'd remember not to step on it accidentally. I feel that this is a huge jump in progress!

Every night before bed I used to think about whether I wanted a snack during our show or not - how would this affect my morning weigh-in? Would the food in my gut make the weigh-in higher? If I skipped my snack, would that get me a new record low, just because I wouldn't have food digesting?

No more of that. Now, I just eat.

Let's get back to my fourteen-year-old self.

With my starvation method - fasting off and on, skipping breakfast and lunch but eating dinner, etc - I got back down 13 pounds. I did have the occasional binge, my body's way of fighting against the starvation, but these were minor setbacks. I still had the goal of losing 10-12 MORE pounds. That is, until the binges got closer together. 

Binge-eating: Letting go of the limits. No longer caring about calories or carbs or fat or sugar and eating. Whatever you want. Without stopping. Without listening to your body's cues. Without listening to your mind screaming at you to stop. Just doing it. Any food you thought of at all while being hungry. Until there's nothing left. You. Empty packages. Pain. And failure.

I managed to maintain my weight loss until summertime. Then I gained 6 pounds back. I spent all my time thinking about it. One day, it "clicked" that I needed to count calories. I went on a 900-calorie-per-day diet, with exercise. It seemed reasonable to me that, if 1800 calories were what I needed to maintain my weight, and if 3600 calories were in a pound, then I could lose 3/4 pound a day, or 3 lbs a week. Of course, that's not how it really happened, but the numbers were promising.

I lasted three weeks, and I got rid if those 6 pounds. Then my metabolism slowed down and my weight stalled at the same place as before. I was so tired. I broke, and the weight came piling on. 

The beginning of sophomore year saw me at the same weight I had been at pre-pneumonia in 8th grade, and ready to try again. Up and down, up and down. I read somewhere that being a vegan helped with weight loss. I tried that. I read that avoiding carbs helped. Nope. The new year brought my first "resolution" diet. When that failed, I went on Weight Watchers. I felt like the slightest comment from my peers threw me off and ruined everything. Weight Watchers got me back down to a size 5, but it didn't last. Right when I thought I'd mastered portion control, I lost myself again.

The beginning of junior year I was 10 pounds heavier than ever. I followed the same usual pattern. I got my hands on several different diet pills, and tried my own combinations. The suicidal thoughts started. I thought it might have been a side effect of the pills, but I didn't want to stop taking them. That summer, I tried cleanses involving lemons and cayenne, etc. I was obsessed with a few European documentaries about getting down to a size 0. They were supposed to discourage against starving to be thin, but they fueled me on. Once, I ate a whole tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil because I'd read that it could suppress appetite. To this day I hate the taste of raw olive oil.

I tried to throw up my food after binges. Oh, did I try. Once, I almost succeeded. 

I started my senior year of high school 7 pounds lighter than the year before. I felt like this was progress, even though I was 9 pounds heavier than I had been before ever going on a diet. I kept working at it. I started over repeatedly. I kept thinking THIS time I would stick to it. THIS time was different. THIS time I wouldn't be weak. My weight didn't go anywhere. Then, I got caught with an empty bottle of diet pills.

The woman I spoke to then is someone I'm still in contact with, but we rarely speak. She touched my life for a short time, but it made all the difference. She explained the havoc diet pills could cause for my body, that they didn't work, that they were a waste of money, and that I was worth too much to treat myself this way.

She didn't know about the 10+ different bottles in my drawer upstairs. But when I walked away from her that night, I got a trash bag. I threw away every single bottle. Even the vitamin C. And the caffeine pills that I took to ward off the exhaustion of hunger. I knew that if I was going to quit, I needed to quit it all.

I spent the next three days in a stupor of caffeine withdrawal. But I never went back.

The diets, however, weren't over.

As I end for the night, I want to make a disclaimer. Compared to others out there, my eating disorder was minor. My pain was only a sliver of what others go through. By talking about my background so frankly, I don't want to discredit those who are currently living through much worse.

Lies

Are you joking? It was all a lie this entire time? I've been living 10 years with the impression that 125 was my "optimal" weight for health, and the optimal weight for happiness and fitness. According to BMI, it is. According to these trending articles?:

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/03/opinion/our-imaginary-weight-problem.html?_r=1&

http://fozmeadows.tumblr.com/post/80930076791/female-bodies-a-weighty-issue

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ravishly/being-thin-didnt-make-me-happy-being-fat-does_b_6661862.html?ncid=txtlnkusaolp00000592

Well, according to these articles, my gut feeling was right. My weight correlates with the optimal weight for longevity. No wonder my midwife and her assistant looked at me like I was crazy last year when I was filling out medical information and asked if I qualified as "overweight" since I was practically straddling the line between "healthy" and "unhealthy" BMI. Both of them definitively told me that I was NOT overweight. A few weeks later they looked at my food journal and couldn't find a single flaw in their perspective.

But I still questioned that accuracy. It wasn't until recently that I threw up my hands and admitted I couldn't do things more perfectly to lose weight, that it was this or hunger at this point. AND I'M NOT GOING HUNGRY. Not to mention that I'm kind of a monster when I'm on a diet.

Just some thoughts! It's really a big reminder that every body is different and that we can't let one ideal dictate how we feel about ourselves. I wasn't considering this an "update" sort of post, so I'll go back to talking about my background next time.

How has you perspective of self been altered over time?

Food History Pt. 2

I have secreted myself away with the computer while the baby's sleeping SOMEWHERE ELSE and my husband, son, and brother-in-law play Legos. Wow, it feels good being at the computer. Typing. Writing definitely goes faster with a computer. It was when my first son was around the age the baby is now that I wrote the book I now have available on Amazon Kindle, so I think this might be a turning point for my writing abilities. I'd really like to be giving writing in general more time - I have a whole other novel waiting to be uploaded as soon as I get the cover art taken care of, and I have a sequel to re-draft, and I'm DYING to move along. Today is Sunday, and I've made it a rule not to work on writing I might potentially make money off of (though I AM allowed to write down ideas, because lost inspiration can be painful). So, instead of writing to my illustrator, I'm disciplining myself and spending my time here instead.

The phantom routine is still there. I feel good. I feel light and energetic and just plain GOOD. But sometimes, at night or first thing in the morning, I can still imagine jumping on that scale like a reflex. It would be so easy. It would definitely happen by accident if the scale was still sitting there. I would forget. I would seriously forget and just do it, and then realize my mistake AFTER the numbers popped up.

I FEEL light, and that should be enough. I don't need the scale to tell me I'm doing well. But it would still be very easy to step right back into the old routine. Which is why my resolution is so important - not weighing myself for the long term is the only way to truly break the habit.

I am SO glad I started this blog, because I would have already failed if it hadn't been for my peers, and a lot of people I don't even know, telling me how great it is that I'm doing this. I would lose some respect - if that isn't motivation, I don't know what else is.

My son doesn't see me step on that scale all the time anymore. Instead, I stick him on top of the counter and giggle with him about something silly like eye contact solution and q-tips.

But I was supposed to talk more about my history with food.

When I went on that first diet when I was eleven, I didn't really have a goal. I had the sense that I should lose weight, so I decided to try. I skipped breakfast. I skipped lunch. I came home from school and ate a can of chicken smothered in mustard - and felt like I'd failed. Diet over. I ate whatever I want later for dinner.

The next day I skipped breakfast. I skipped lunch. I was in 6th grade, and on Fridays for 7th hour we had our choice of activities like playing board games in different classrooms. The teachers had figured they could sell a variety of packaged snacks at this time to earn a little money for field trips. I couldn't wait to go home and eat, so I bought a package of oatmeal cookies. Diet REALLY over. I'd eaten COOKIES.

Diets didn't work. I couldn't do it. I moved on. You'd think I would have learned from that first experience.

That summer, I tried a couple times more - more like an experiment (I was bored) than anything else. I went from 10am to 10pm without eating, then would eat something and focus on not stuffing myself. This lasted about a week, and then I got interested in something else and forgot about it.

When I was thirteen I got sick with pneumonia. I was tired, I didn't think about food, and I coughed a lot. I think this lasted about three weeks. I lost about 14 pounds and went from a tight size 6 (which seemed really big at the time) to a loose size 4. I got new clothes and I felt awesome about myself (once I wasn't sick anymore). This was when my thoughts about my weight really solidified. Before that, I had been a little self-conscious. Post-pneumonia, I took pride in how I looked.

The next year, high school started. EVERYTHING was about how I looked - now, I wish I'd taken more time to work on my people skills. That's a place that could use some work even now. Instead, I was a mouse that thought about nothing but the next time I would ALLOW myself to eat. How that started was some sort of scheduled health check-up that took place for everyone in the library. They checked our eyes and a few other things, but the big thing was the scale they had set up at the end of everything. When I was done, I gathered together with some other girls at the doors to wait till everyone else was done. A few of them were buoyant with the excitement that the knowledge of their weight had brought. I was deflated. I had gained back 7 of my pre-pneumonia pounds. Very shortly after that I did another crash diet - I didn't take in anything but water for 48 hours. Technically, that's called a fast. To me, it was a diet. The first of MANY. They all ended the same. I would carefully break the fast, and a few hours later I'd be eating large portions of whatever I wanted.

I'll write more soon, I've got people needing my attention :)

Food History Pt. 1

It might be interesting for you readers to know that I type this whole blog with one finger on my iPad while I nurse. Sometimes, when I get really excited, I use two fingers! (no wonder I haven't finished the sequel to my book yet) Anyway, I committed to at least one post a month, so you're getting a lot of bonuses. 

As I post this, it has officially been a month since I weighed myself! This is not a record yet - In 2011 I went about three months when my husband had an internship in Texas and we left most of our belongings in Utah, including my scale. It wouldn't fit in the car. 

Here's where I tell you what I've been thinking in regards to weight: only 11 months left till my next weigh-in! I guess I need to focus on doing more forgetting and less fantasizing about how many pounds I might lose between now and then.

I know I said I would tell you about my history with food in this post, but I want to be in-depth, and I think the easiest way to do that is a bit at a time. I also don't want to incriminate anyone as I go - this blog is about cleansing, not about blame. This means the act of telling is going to take a lot of thought.

As a child, I knew what was health and what wasn't: wild rice = healthy, chocolate = not. Some little things might have been cultural, some particular to our family, but I think I had a pretty good idea. To be skinny, you eat salad and don't add chocolate syrup to your milk. That was around age five.

At age six, I told a friend that I didn't eat white bread ( interestingly, I remember eating a rice crispy treat with no guilt that same week). She applied peer pressure - she wanted me to take just one bite. I refused, proud of myself and comparing it to a situation where I might be offered a cigarette in the future (I never have been offered a cigarette, thank goodness).

Around age eight I started recognizing who was thinner than me.

By age ten, I understood food consumption could be connected to emotions. I knew it was a bad idea to add too much brown sugar to my cream of wheat. I knew the blue ice cream at Maggie Moo's was the worst choice of ice cream you could make, made only worse if you topped it with crumbled Oreos.

I should point out that these are mostly black and white thoughts. Children are black and white thinkers, so it was obvious to me that there were "good" foods and "bad" foods. Emotional eating was a new idea, but it was hard for me to think about it too deeply because it was so complex.

At age eleven, I went on my first "diet."