Surviving the Fourth

In a cruel twist of fate, I was scheduled for my monthly check in/weigh-in with my doctor July 7 -- yes, right after Independence Day weekend. That meant dealing with not one but two picnics laden with greasy burgers and hot dogs, mayo-laden salads and dips, and don't forget the cookies, pies and other desserts.

At first I was filled with dread; then, as the weekend approached I dealt with a big case of anxiety and fear of failure. But I sat with those feelings and did my best to use the cognitive behavioral skills I've tried to pick up along the way. The old belief was that I HAD to do not eat anything, or else I was a failure, loser, etc. And since that was impossible, why not just go "whole hog," so to speak, eat everything in sight, and just go to the doctor on Tuesday feeling miserable, embarrassed, ashamed, etc. Instead, I thought to myself, "I PREFER to eat intuitively this weekend: eat when I'm hungry, eat food I like and eat it until I'm satisfied. If I slip up a little, whether it's eating when I'm not that hungry, or eating past the point of satisfaction, there is no shame in that and it doesn't change my worth as a person."

I think it helped that both picnics were not in my home. Not only did I not have all the stress of getting the house ready for company, but we only had to make a few things and we weren't left with a pile of food when everyone left.

The first picnic was at my uncle's house, and he lives 2.5 hours away. We went there for a change, since we rarely get to see this uncle, his wife, his four kids and their families. There was lots of catching up with each other and re-connecting, plus paying lots of attention to our two-year old cousin who always steals the show, so food wasn't the end-all be-all that day. I sampled everything I wanted to, sometimes only a tiny bite, but that was enough to keep the deprivation monster at bay. I did make an effort to make some healthy choices -- I skipped the bread on my burger, and when I had the urge for snacking, I focused on the fresh fruit and vegetables that were in great supply and tasted wonderful -- and when I wanted something not-so-healthy, I made the serving small and took lots of time savoring it.

I did have a moment that evening that could have led to disaster. My husband thinks it's an atrocity if we don't see fireworks up close and personal on the Fourth of July, so when we got home (at 9 p.m.) we went directly to the fireworks display in a nearby town to watch them with his parents, his brother and his wife. I didn't really want to go -- we had been on the road since 9 a.m. and I was feeling tired and drained. Not to mention the fact that I'm just not that crazy about fireworks. Sure, they can be beautiful, but my husband and his family aren't content unless they're sitting directly underneath them. For me, it's too loud, too bright, and fighting with the traffic when it's over is a nightmare. And that's exactly what happened. I spent most of the presentation with my fingers in my ears -- it was so loud you could feel the booming in your chest cavity -- and half the time shielding my eyes from the ultra-bright flashes. When it was over my mother-in-law asked me if I liked it, and I decided not to hold any punches, replying, "Honestly, I think I like them less and less every year." And to make the evening complete, we got stuck in a horrible traffic jam, and it took us at least 40 minutes to get home, when it normally only takes 10-12.

By the time we got home I was so put out with myself for being Miss Nice and agreeing to go when I really didn't want to that I found myself wanting to gobble down the cookies I had saved from the picnic. But I took that crucial moment to gauge my level of true hunger, and I realized I would only be eating out of anger and frustration, and what I really needed was sleep. So I did.

The next day came picnic #2, which I knew would be the hardest one to survive. This was at my brother- and sister-in-law's house, which has been an infamous location for some historic binge eating in the past. This was my husband's family's picnic, and they are well known for making five times as much food as we really need and all of it as unhealthy as possible, so there were plenty of overeating opportunities. And there really wasn't going to be anything else to do all day except sit around, talk and eat, which is always a dangerous situation for me.

Perhaps the success of the previous day carried over and gave me enough confidence in myself to stay the IE course. I stuck to the same game plan as picnic #1, except for some pre-planning on my part: I brought along a bunch of fresh fruit I had in my refrigerator and used that for my snacking. It was definitely a life saver, because otherwise I would have had very few healthy options. And because they were my favorites -- strawberries and blueberries -- I didn't feel deprived at all.

So, here we are on Tuesday, ready to walk into the doctor's office knowing I was successful in my attempts to be a normal eater. I wasn't a "perfect" eater, I didn't count a single calorie, but I used my wisdom and common sense and felt good about it. I can't guarantee I lost a lot of weight, but I'm sure I didn't gain any. And that's a huge accomplishment for me.