I was on a business trip to Dallas, Texas when one of my colleagues suggested I try going to Central Market for my food needs. I was happy to take the suggestion, as I have been spoiled, in terms of fresh produce, by living in California. After my work duties were done, I headed off to do my shopping. I walked into this store and was at once feeling at home. I found all the produce I needed, and it was beautiful! I then proceeded to find the other staples I needed for my meals. It was an overwhelming experience. Everywhere I looked there was food, glorious food. I must have looked shell shocked, as one of their “foodies” (that’s what they call their staff) came to my aid. He asked me if I needed help, and I gratefully said I did. I explained what I was looking for, and he... Continue Reading
My favorite costume—my default outfit from college years through early motherhood— was a soft, worn pair of farmer pants. I loved these bibbed jeans and felt safe in them for years. The pale dungaree fabric was hefty enough to withstand constant use and frequent washings, the double-stitched seams were sturdy and resilient, and the overall sensation was one of being gently draped, much like a nude in a portable tent. My farmer pants had a certain style and statement. While permitting freedom of movement, the loose-fitting pants allowed me to perform my cartwheels and back flips (I was both a daredevil and show-off, even at 160 pounds). I could sit on chairs back to front, legs splayed in ungainly casualness, elbows resting on the back of the chair. The bibbed front permitted me the bra-free bravado of my era and feminist inclinations. The high waistline was as loose and ill... Continue Reading
Eight months ago it would have been absolutely impossible for me to be able to sit quietly, gather my thoughts, and write about them. My body was so exhausted from three-hour-a-day workouts. My life had ground to a halt. I had long since given up on college due to my lack of focus and long hours spent bingeing in the food court, followed by a thorough purge and teeth brushing. That stuff takes time! When I was as miserable as one is after a huge binge/purge, my immediate priority was to seek comfort. Therefore, I ate more food. I could be starving or full and confuse one for the other. I worked full-time at my part-time job as a manager at a grocery store, and I was usually in a completely dazed “stay away from food” frenzy while on the clock. My evenings consisted of all-out flour/sugar fiestas, and my... Continue Reading
When I came into FA, the first thing my sponsor explained to me was the tool of abstinence. The second thing she explained was the tool of meetings. She called them “committed meetings” and explained that we attend the same three meetings every week, except if there is a one-time event like a wedding or funeral. I was in other Twelve-Step programs for food prior to FA, and I had never committed myself to any meeting. I only went to meetings to “get” not to “give.” I regularly switched meetings so I could be the new face at a meeting and get all the attention. Because of this constant movement, I did very little service and was not reliable. Doing service involved time and effort, and I rationalized that I worked full time, needed to have a life, and service impinged on my plans. All my actions were based on... Continue Reading
Temptation is subtle, quiet, cunning, and powerful. When faced with temptation, I have thoughts that I actually believe are great new ideas or epiphanies. My ideas usually start something like this: Wouldn’t it be nice to have…, or how about eating this tonight to break things up…, or this food is really boring, so let’s go out to eat “real food.” Living in recovery means learning to be able to distinguish between sane thoughts and ideas and those of when my food addiction is speaking to me. The food addict thoughts want to sabotage the spiritual path I am on in FA. I can walk on the spiritual path or on the self-serving path of food addiction. I can’t confuse the discomfort I may be experiencing in my life with the “great ideas” of my disease, which chooses to solve that discomfort with food. I refuse to give into my disease. I realize that... Continue Reading
