Eat the Damn Donut

There are plenty of food-based activities at my company. We use it to welcome people, to say goodbye, to celebrate Friday, to mourn Monday, to discuss important celebrity issues over lunch, or just because. Employees occasionally leave treats in the kitchen for people to share, and the firm sporadically buys bagels and lox for all. These events are a good way to bond and get to know people outside of the office setting in which I usually see them. However, inevitably, there is always, always, at least one comment like these when it comes to the actual eating:

While taking a bagel: Haha, I should not be eating these, but they look so good!

While enjoying some fries: This is why I have salad for lunch!

Eating a cookie: I think this is okay, I had such a great workout this morning, right?

On taking a second cookie: Ugh, why am I doing this! This is like my second cookie, someone take them away! I’m getting fat!

On appearing dazed and with blood on their clothing: So I was just… at the library.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore my co-workers and I’m lucky to work with such great people. This is a larger criticism of our reflexive belief that we need to either justify or condemn ourselves for any bit of unhealthy food. This isn’t limited to my co-workers, but to everyone who thinks they need to explain the donut in their hand. I’ve heard customers justify their coffee or pastry orders to Starbucks cashiers, who truly do not give a shit. Skinny, slim, average, and overweight alike, most of us have done it.

I used to be much more sensitive about what I was eating in public. Perhaps struggling with my weight made it worse. Getting some French fries? I hoped they didn’t think I was just another fatty gorging on fries. Ordering a salad with grilled chicken, dressing on the side? I hoped they didn’t think I was just another fatty on a diet that would never work. Check a fake text at Potbelly’s when buying a sandwich AND a cookie to make sure that I’m getting the correct type of cookie for my “friend”? Been there.

Then I finally realized that if someone is judging me for what I'm eating, then quite simply, they are the ones with the problem. And if I am judging someone for what they're eating, then I have a problem. Unless they stole my lunch from the fridge, the food choices made by a fellow adult are none of my damn business. So when people laugh about how they can’t believe how many pieces they’ve eaten of the fancy French chocolate that someone bought while in Europe, and how they need to stop, I just shut up. Even if they probably shouldn’t be eating that third donut, it’s between them and the donut.

I think part of why we assume others are judging our food choices - hence the need to justify or condemn them - is because we’re doing it to ourselves first. It ties into the larger problem that so many of us have, which is feeling guilty about our food choices. I’ve ranted about this before, about how feeling guilty over something I ate is just an utter waste of time, serves no purpose, and is often used as an excuse for inaction or to continue eating. It’s not going to change anything and I didn’t actually hurt anybody, so I need to move on and forgive myself for my mistakes.

Wisdom.

That’s part of why I started a blog. How many people want to hear my debates over 1300 net calories vs. 1100 net calories, or about how I’m deciding whether or not to count vegetables in my daily totals? I write here so that anybody who is interested can read, and anybody who’s not isn’t forced to listen to me describe the controlled experiments I conduct on my heart rate monitor. Similarly, nobody wants to hear about why their co-worker is or is not eating something.

We feel like we need to justify all these things, forgetting that nobody cares that much, and it’s none of their business anyway.

Leah's Proposed Alternative Eating Commentary:

- "This is/that looks delicious.”

- "In my studies on the planet Thorcrondeux 92, I learned that humans get energy by putting particular substances into their unattractive face gaps and I feel that I am fitting right in. Shall we talk about the lack of water falling from the sky, or the current temperature?"

I Still Have a Ways to Go

        Last night I was not in the best place. A couple of weeks ago, I had some late work nights and it was tough, but I handled it alright. This time, I have not risen to the challenge when things got just a little bit harder.

        There were so many treats around, and the unexpected below freezing weather (snow!) combined with religious restrictions on driving and other travel meant that most of the last few days were spent in the house. Somehow there wasn't a chance to have a fun afternoon of board games, or some other communal entertainment. It was still really nice to be with my family, but I think everybody was a bit tired, ironically, after all the Seder sitting and long meals.

         I did not make the best choices. I was trying, but kept failing. I would eat a bit of something, think, alright, I didn't need that. I'm just bored, and it's here, and it's something to do for a moment. It's ok, but maybe stop picking at this food now. And then I wouldn't. And then I wouldn't again. On Tuesday I realized I just needed to stop eating in-between meals because that's when I ate all the crap that I later regret. Those little bits here and there, and here, and before I realized it, I'd eaten about 500 extra calories of sweets - just by having a macaroon, or an almond cookie, every hour or so.

Nope.

        The funny thing is that this was the version of me trying, but failing, to eat well. If I had not been trying at all, I would absolutely have eaten thousands more calories. It would have been worse because I would have stopped caring and given up on myself completely. I'm not sure where I am at the moment, calorie-wise, but I sure as hell know that's it better than some past experiences.

        So: last night found me in bed at an odd half-sitting half-laying-down angle, trying not to think about what I'd eaten, not wanting to deal with it, not wanting to do what I knew I should do, which is go on the elliptical in the basement for a bit, pack lunch for work the next day, and answer the questions about laundry that the friends looking after our apartment needed answered. Not wanting to deal with any of it, really. I wasn't in denial, I was actively procrastinating.

"Only my face in the music video, you hear me? Make it work!"

        Looking back, it's clear that some of these negative feelings were due to cabin fever - last night, I had been in the house for two days straight - and also being generally lazy about going back to work after a few days off. 

        At midnight, I packed a lunch for the next day (today), and spent a half hour on the elliptical, watching an old episode of Family Guy and wondering how on earth they get so much dirty stuff past the censors. I never felt so proud as doing those small things. Credit goes to J (husband), who was really great. He knows about and tries to understand my struggles as best he can, and is really good at cheering me up when I'm down.

Sneak hug.

        He reminded me of what I already knew but maybe needed to hear - that this isn't that big a deal, basically. It's a few days of overeating, and a few days of not working out. It's understandable, I'm still learning how to make good choices when I'm not in an environment that I control or one in which I'm used to overcoming temptations, and I'm not perfect. I don't need to get upset over my choices, I don't need to feel guilty for indulging, even if it's this whole holiday.

        At worst, if I can go back to our good habits after it's over, it will only a week out of this journey. A week won't break me unless I let it stretch into more. Despite a packed lunch today and a workout last night, the rest of this week might suck. But I'll try my best now, however many calories that means, and start next week fresh no matter what.

Happy Passover, Easter, or just weekend in general!

No Lightbulb Moments, Final Part: How I Gained Most of it Back

Part one here, part two in the post just before this or here.

So, what happened?

I was this close to hitting the official fifty-pound mark when everything in my life changed over the course of a few months - I got married, moved into a new apartment, and started at my first post-grad, full-time job. They were wonderful, inevitable changes, but they still knocked me on my suddenly growing ass.

I should have seen it coming, having planned the wedding and applied for the jobs, but somehow I didn't realize that even the most wonderful changes take some adjusting. I didn't realize how much I had relied on having such a free schedule, so when I no longer had all the time in the world, I didn't bother to make the time to exercise or eat right. 

There was also the normal amount of stress that comes from setting up a new household and learning how to perform at a new job. I let those things take over my energy so much that focusing on losing weight seemed like a laughable goal on top of everything else. And because I have no middle ground when it comes to food, over those eight or so months, I gained about 35 of the 50 back. 

That is where I'm starting from now. 

I realize there are so many similarities between the two times I gained a large amount of weight - the first time I reached 200 pounds, and last year when I let normal but busy life take over. It was really the denial that got me there, the denial that I was slipping, letting old habits creep back and eating for no other reason than I was bored, stressed, or that the food was in front of me. I think that's the single biggest factor in my weight gain - I couldn't acknowledge that I was gaining weight again, let alone how much.

I'm just having a muffin. Wait, did I also have one this morning?

Sometimes it's hard not to get angry at myself for having gained so much weight back. It sucks in practical ways, like having to buy new, bigger clothing after I gleefully gave away everything that had gotten too big, certain that I would never need it again. I don't exactly love when I see old friends or acquaintances and realize how much healthier I was last time we met. But mostly it sucks because I let myself down, and all that hard work is now gone. I'm back to where I started. 

However, just like I won't feel guilty over the food I eat, there is really nothing good that can come of being angry at myself. Guilt is not a motivator. I just have to do what I'm doing, which is to keep going,  and lose the weight (again). 

The Million Dollar, or Seventy Pound Question: Why Did I Get Fat?

Why did I get fat? I started gaining extra weight in kindergarten, and reached what would be a healthy weight for my current height by age twelve. If only I could have just stopped there.

Nope.

This is a topic to which I've given a lot of thought. Childhood obesity is a highly debated and heavily researched area, with sciencey people looking at factors such as my family and my environment, citing fun things like easy access to junk food, no access to healthy food, and too much television with too little exercise. And of course, my genetics. It's mostly experiments on mice and a lot of correlational studies (let's link video games to obesity!), because we can't go experimenting on children.

I don't know how much I fit into those risk factors - I was really lucky. During my childhood, there were always fresh fruits to snack on, and vegetables with every meal. Dessert was reserved for Friday night and special occasions, and my parents only ever bought soda or white bread for guests. Most meals were homemade and eaten at home.

Except when we had wax.

My family was and is healthy. But I was still a chubby 10-year-old who was jealous of her friends in their cute pre-teen bikinis, but who still sneaked extra Oreos at school parties and didn't understand why she couldn't just make herself skinny by wishing hard enough.

It was probably more emotional. I suffered from depression and had low self-esteem as a kid. My parents are wonderful, and did all they could. But I was still an unhappy child. Science says that could have contributed to weight gain.

My current hypothesis is that the initial chubbiness was a fairly standard weight gain, the result of a few overindulgences and being so excited by the junk food that came my way at school or friends' houses that I overdid it and ignored my hunger or fullness signals. This happens to plenty of children, and they often grow into their weights (less so these days, but it used to be more common).

But being a little overweight helped create that classic cycle. I felt badly about myself, so I ate more. My parents wanted to help me lose weight, but they didn't really know how. I didn't know how myself. Food could be both a reward and punishment. I could eat to spite their attempts and punish myself, or I could eat to feel better, or feel in control. Eating felt guilty and great. Or maybe it's a little of all of that.

High school was much better - I slowly got out of feeling depressed and generally grew up a little.  I think time was the biggest factor. But food was still comforting, and while I seemed to be maintaining my weight, it was about 30 pounds too high.

College is a more complicated story, for later.

All in all, I think, I hope, that I'm at least a little more self-aware than I was as a child, and now have the tools and knowledge to get healthy.

The Most Important Weight Loss Tip I Know

On Tuesday John (my husband) and I stopped at the drug store after the gym and got some chocolate truffles. We've bought candy a few times since we started working out, when I'd track a workout and realize I had more calories to spare than I'd anticipated.

My favorite kind of math.  

It all worked out well on Tuesday, but then on Friday I ate all the chocolates that were left. I'm not sure what led me to do that - maybe I was de-stressing from the week, maybe I was bored, maybe I was feeling like some self-sabotage.

Not surprisingly, I felt guilty over it and angry at myself, and that quickly led to writing off the rest of the evening. Might as well grab a handful of chocolate chips. I knew this was the worst kind of trap to fall into, letting one non-ideal food choice lead to another.

During these delightful times, I try to focus on the best piece of weight-loss advice I ever got. It's something that I still struggle with, but am continuously working on.

When I eat something that isn't part of my weight-loss or general healthy eating plan, I try to forgive myself. Immediately and unequivocally. You should, too. 

Whether you ate an extra brownie, or an entire jar of frosting, it really doesn't matter.  Assuming you didn't eat the last of an endangered species or a still-steaming and possibly animated pie you stole off somebody's windowsill, the only person you've affected is yourself. And not that much, probably. Perhaps you've made a mistake, but you're human and it happens. 

Nobody belongs here.

You ate it; perhaps it wasn't the best choice to make, and it may even put you over your calories for the day or make you bloated tomorrow, but feeling guilty over it will accomplish exactly nothing. 

Guilt may seem like an unavoidable and appropriate self-punishment for eating something off your plan, but it will just make you feel badly about yourself, force you to focus on the past choice instead of moving forward. All that will make it more likely that you'll make additional negative food choices, choices you might not have even considered otherwise, which could in turn lead to more guilt and more food. 

This tastes like shame.

This is something with which I still struggle, but I think just acknowledging and reminding myself that I don't need to feel badly helps. On Friday I ate the chocolates and the chips, but on Saturday  I tried to get right back to it, and make and enjoy reasonable food for the rest of the day. 

That not-feeling-guilty also means not punishing myself by eating less later, even if I technically "deserve" it. In general, even if that initial pie or whatever has already used up most of my allotted daily calories, the only adjustment I am willing to make to my eating is to skip dessert (because I've already had it). I will not skip meals or eat lettuce for dinner and go to bed hungry, even if that would allow me to "make up" for the pie and get that magical 500-750 calorie deficit, because that would be punishing myself.

 Instead, I accept that perhaps this won't be a calorie deficit day, and that's not the end of the world. My goal is to not allow any single bad decision to spiral into more, and to just wake up tomorrow and keep going.