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.

Hanging In There

Often when I have lapses in writing, it means I'm not doing well; I'm not "journaling" (when did that officially become a verb?) because I'm emotionally shut down and in a bad way.

But this time, the last two weeks or so, I've just been too darn busy, and I've actually been doing pretty well. After foraging my way through the Foodie Fest known as Memorial Day weekend (including one family reunion and two picnics), I felt so bloated and sick of food that I found myself WANTING to eat better and more mindfully. And even though I had more foodie events (family birthday dinner, meals out, movies and a party laden with high-calorie hors d'oeuvres) I had a true desire not to go unconscious and mindlessly overeat. And I didn't!

I admit part of the motivation was another doctor's appointment, which I had yesterday. And I'll also confess that after the appointment I let myself splurge a little (it was the first night of our town's yearly carnival). But unlike the previous few months, where the two weeks or so after the appointment would be a free-for-all, this morning I truly wanted to get right back on the Intuitive Eating track. And I did.

Maybe it's my love of routine, which reduces my stress and allows me to have the illusion of control over some aspect of my life when so much of it is chaos. But it's just easier to get back to the "food plan" I've set up for myself. I use the term food plan in the loosest possible terms: while I do measure just a few things when I'd like to know the suggested portion size, I am not counting calories (which I know is driving my doctor nuts -- he keeps asking me how many calories I'm eating every day and I have no clue). I do eat some "diet" or lower calorie foods or condiments, but only because I like the taste of them. But otherwise I'm pretty much eating what I want.

A big thing I've been working on and getting better at is leaving some food on my plate. Even if it's just a spoonful of food, I try to leave something behind at least once a day. This is usually dinner, because my breakfasts aren't that big and my lunches are usually packed and both are somewhat measured out and portion-controlled. Dinner is more of a free-for-all, served family style at the table, and it's much easier to get big portions and seconds. So that's where it's most challenging -- and in the end rewarding -- to leave something on the plate.

I find when I'm eating out it tends to be bread that I leave on the plate -- restaurant sandwiches are so huge, with the majority of it being the bread or roll, that I wind up leaving half the bread behind, and I can still feel completely satisfied. I do find myself rebelling against ordering salads in restaurants: I make my own salads every day for lunch, and it's rare that I can get one better than mine that are still relatively healthy. I never use iceberg lettuce (I vary between Romaine, Boston, red or green leaf), and the low-calorie dressings in most restaurants are horrible. At home I use almost exclusively the Paul Newman salad dressings. My favorites are the Newman's Own Lighten Up Honey Mustard, Low Fat Sesame Ginger and Balsamic Vinaigrette -- I prefer them over a lot of regular, high calorie dressings. And I like using small portions of dried fruit, nuts and different cheeses like Gorgonzola or feta to jazz up the flavor. Compared to my creations, that little pile of tasteless iceberg lettuce with some nasty chemical-tasting dressing on it isn't worth putting in my mouth!

Unfortunately, in a lot of places it's hard to find something on the menu that's half-way healthy and isn't a salad, so in those instances I just order what I want and try to either leave something on the plate or take the rest home in a doggie bag. I will give props to the Black Bean Burger at Chili's and the Greek Salad at Panera. I got the salad to go the other day and realized they didn't give me any dressing; I went ahead and ate it without it, and it had plenty of flavor just with the feta and kalamata olives on it.

The biggest victory for me was the hors d'ouevres party I mentioned above. This was at a person's house that is often a binge-trigger place for me. I can't count the times I've left there feeling stuffed to the gills and miserable because I went on eating auto-pilot. The hostess is a good cook, and that day the finger food was primarily high-calorie and loaded with lots of sugar or fat -- it would have been so easy to go wild. And this time had an even bigger binge potential because it was attended by a lot of people I don't know very well and not that comfortable with. This is usually the recipe for a major binge episode for me. But I was amazed at my ability to eat a little without feeling deprived. I took one little tartlet (it had cheese and other yummies in it), one little piece of toasted bread with seafood dip on it (super creamy and fat-laden), and a couple bites of the dessert, a chocolate-dipped sugar cone bowl filled with mousse and topped with berries. It was my daughter's dessert, and after she had her couple bites, I took a couple more, then threw the rest away.

Part of my restraint was due to the fact that after the party I was planning to go out with my daughter for dinner and a movie and didn't want to snowball myself into a huge binge. And I didn't: I got a veggie sub for dinner and left half the roll on the plate, and at the movie I got Twizzlers and only ate three pieces of it. In fact, the bag is still sitting in my living room!

I'm not claiming victory here. I'm aware I'm in a good place right now food-wise, and I prefer to stay that way, but I know there will always be bumps in the road. This Intuitive Eating journey has been a difficult one with plenty of relapses, but I guess after trying again and again to implement better habits and beliefs, some of it might finally be sinking in and taking hold.

The Sticky Roll Incident

About two weeks ago I was having one of those days: the ones where nothing seems to be going right and you want to turn around and go back to bed, hoping you can start all over again and try to get it right the second time. It was also a very hectic day with longer hours at work, then chauffeuring my daughter to her orthodontist, grabbing a quick supper, then going to gymnastics (Mabel's hand is healed now and she's back to hand-springing and round-offing all over the place).



While I was waiting for the three hour (!!!) practice to end, occupying myself with book reading in my car, my cell phone rang and it was my hubby. He announced to me that since I had such a rough day he would have a surprise for me when I got home. By that point the day was almost over, and to be honest, the book reading had done wonders for my mood. Other than being tired from the long day, I actually didn't feel so bad anymore.



So I got home, and there on the kitchen island was an entire half sheet pan (11.5x16.5 inches) brimming with sticky nut rolls. Hubby was so proud of himself, and I must tell you, they looked and smelled fantastic. But to be honest, the very first thought in my head was, "Oh, no..." I did eat one; I had been planning to get some kind of snack on the way home from gymnastics (Mabel's always starving after her workout, and since on those days we eat supper around 4 p.m., by 8 I'm usually a little peckish, too), so I drove straight home, since I knew any surprise from hubby would more than likely be food-related. I guess I was hoping it would be some little individual treat made just for me, not a bevy big enough for a party.

Later I tried to explain to him that I'm learning and actually accepting the fact that food, especially treats like those rolls, cannot really comfort and give me "happiness." I appreciated the thought and effort he put into it, but the food itself is irrelevant, and I can no longer give it that power anymore. Hubby listened and nodded and said, "You're right, you're right..."

I also tried to tell him that making enough for a small army isn't a great idea; I didn't say it to him, but I equated it in my mind to giving a recovering alcoholic a case or keg of beer. He also listened to this and said he would make an effort to give most of the pan of rolls away. Within the next couple days we did just that: I gave some to my pastor and my mom, and he gave some to his parents, too. We even wound up throwing a couple away when they got too old. Out of that enormous pan, I wound up eating two of the rolls, which I considered a major accomplishment.

In fact, in recent weeks I've discovered that I'm doing much, much better with foods that in the past I would consider major binge trigger foods. There is a Mennonite-run bakery and store in our county that makes the best orange iced rolls, and normally when I buy the round pan of them I scarf them all down within 48 hours, and usually feeling sick to my stomach from the fat and sugar overload. About six weeks ago I bought a pan, and they tasted great as usual, but I didn't feel the drive or compulsion to eat them all. In fact, I wound up throwing two of the rolls away when they got stale! That was a completely new experience for me.

This healthier relationship with food has been pretty far-reaching: I can take two pieces of candy out of a full box full and walk away satisfied, whereas in the past I would not be able to pull myself away and the box would be emptied in an evening. This past Saturday my mom went to the local farmer's market and showed up at my house with some Amish-made snickerdoodle cookies. Last summer she got these for me, too, and I remember going wild over them and eating a whole pack of them in a day. This time she gave me four cookies, and I still have two in the plastic container where I'm storing them. We have an ice cream place near our house that's only open from May-October. Last summer we seemed to be there every other day and I always got something, usually a big sundae loaded with tons of goodies. While my daughter still goes fairly regularly, I couldn't tell you the last time I actually got any. The ice cream's still as good, but for some reason I never seem to be in the mood for it at the times she wants to go.

A couple nights ago during Mabel's gymnastics I went to the mega-mart to stock up on essentials: contact saline, deodorant, etc. These trips used to be the big hunt for binge foods, which I would then chow down on in the car until the end of practice, and the rest would be hidden away for secret binge eating later. Two nights ago I walked through the bakery and not a single thing appealed to me. I bought my daughter some cinnamon bagels (she hates raisins and it's really hard finding cinnamon bagels without them!), and the only food-related item I got for myself was seltzer water! I did have a passing thought of, "Hmmm, what treats can I find for myself?" but it was quickly answered with a shrug of indifference and the reply that I don't really need to or want to.

Here's the thing: I'm still eating cookies and ice cream and candy; I'm not telling myself I shouldn't eat them or that I should reduce the portions. Instead I find myself enjoying the amount I do eat, when I'm in the mood for it, and then I'm quite content. I'm not feeling deprived just eating one cookie or skipping a treat entirely, and I'm not obsessing over the remaining candy, cookies, etc., that are still in the house. Sometimes I actually even forget about them! And you know what? It's such a RELIEF not to feel that way. I feel like I've had some kind of demon exorcised from my body and mind. And I'm suspecting that just maybe, this is what "normal" eating is all about.

I'm not saying I have been the "perfect" normal eater. I have had a couple days here and there where I have the munchies and the drive to overeat. But I've noticed that these incidents were times when I felt tired and run-down by too much running around or not enough sleep. So I've been trying to get more sleep and more down time to help combat this. It's great to me to be able to start putting these things together -- for years it always seemed to be such a mystery why I was so preoccupied and needed eating. To be able to pinpoint these things is wonderful to me. And hopefully, I can avoid any more binge eating episodes of weeks and months that lead to more and more weight gain and its accompanying depression.