Triumph

The problem had dogged me my whole life, apparently, until a couple weeks ago. I mean I’ve been struggling with it a few decades, but really there were long periods when I didn’t even try. Nothing seemed to work. When I was about 12 my mother took me to a doctor who gave me a diet sheet. I took one look at the first breakfast,  which was something like one boiled egg, one piece of dry toast and some milk, and I just snorted. I think my mum brought the paper home, but I never saw it again.

I’ve always been fat, as others have pointed out most unkindly since about Grade 1. But I’ve always been healthy because I eat real food and I do strength training. This was enough to make up for any number of bags of potato chips and fast food indulgences and masses of cheese – because mostly I ate my five a day and cooked everything from scratch. But now… the fat is disappearing. Simply, I wanted to feel light, to do things with ease, and to have more opportunities in life. Greater agility for dance, perhaps the ability to do more intense field work in my area of interest. It might even help me get hired in a new line of work, given so many preconceptions about fat people. But anyway, the main thing is I wanted it for myself, absolutely wanted it, and realized I was going to have to have a meal plan. I wanted to feel good. And now I feel good.

I plan my meals the day before, and I don’t snack. No, I’m not perfect, but basically that is what consistently happens. Three five to six hundred calorie meals, and my morning coffee with 18% fat cream because that’s how I like it, and maybe a protein shake in there if I’m too hungry in the morning or late at night. If everyone on Supersize-Superskinny can do it, then I can do it. Your appetite adjusts to the schedule and amounts given, even when those amounts are half of what you used to eat. (For us overeaters, anyway.)

I haven’t quite figured out how it is that the emotional eating is gone. Maybe it’s that I pursue many other things seeking pleasure. I’m consciously choosing to turn away from a path that brings me much pain in the long run. I’m consciously choosing to lay down new neural pathways in breaking that habit and looking to create new ones. But it’s not that everything is just hunky dory now. I have the same problems in life – need a new job, hate the noise and stink, feel lonely as hell often, am ageing – all that. But I’ve knocked off a long-standing problem – two, actually, both struggling with food and weight and struggling with the emotions around food – and that is a glorious triumph for me.

 

PS the four blocks of cheese I have in the fridge that were on discount a while back are gonna last me till next year now, for sure.

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Announcement

Announcement

Don’t you ever pull up anywhere with your music blaring, ever again. Don’t you dare. You’re harassing people, you and the team of hundreds of other people that pull up or drive by at high speed during the day and night. Yes, it’s a public space, but it’s right adjacent our living space. It’s not a nightclub zone. People live here. People that like to relax, read, and think. Some of us, at least, who aren’t deaf yet.

I remember going to the Ridge Theatre in Vancouver, as a young adult, even though I didn’t live in Vancouver, Burnaby, or Richmond. There were signs all over the neighbourhood, including inside the theatre, because the Ridge had become a destination. No longer a neighbourhood theatre, it was the home of midnight showings and cult films that attracted a more boisterous bunch. Punks and other loudmouths with plenty of attitude, having good times. The Ridge didn’t want the neighbours to hate them, so they didn’t want to bother the neighbours. No doubt the neighbours complained – as I am doing now.

Would you stand on someone’s front porch and yell back and forth to your car, after dark? Or anytime really? Why not go talk to your friend face to face. This ain’t a party zone. We could be dying in here. Hundreds if not thousands of people live in these towers, and we don’t have AC. We have windows. If you pull up with loud music you’re like the dimbulb greaseball with the duck’s ass in the back, in a 1950s movie, updated for the 21st century, but still a jerk.

Just don’t. Ever.