I was always obsessed with how much I weighed and how my body looked. I constantly sized myself up in mirrors or tried to avoid them altogether. I battled with what I should put in my mouth and with the guilt that followed eating something that I “shouldn’t have.” My self-esteem was tied to my weight. When I walked into a room, or when I encountered another person, I played the “compare and despair” game. If you were thinner that I was, you were the better person; if you were heavier, I was the better person. I could not look anyone in the eye when I was feeling fat, which was almost always, because even when I was five pounds overweight, I felt fat. I even felt fat when I had eaten something that I thought I shouldn’t have eaten. I felt guilty, and was afraid that you would see... Continue Reading
When I had my first daughter almost seven years ago, I was not in recovery. When I conceived her, I weighed 180 pounds, and when I delivered her I was 239. As I continued to balloon up in my pregnancy, I found myself using handicapped bathroom stalls more and more. After she was born, I learned how to navigate my way through stores and shopping centers with her in a baby carrier seat, and later, the stroller. It was difficult to learn how to do everything with a baby—putting the child in and out of car seats and shopping carts. But most of all, going to the bathroom in a public place was a chore. The bathroom had to be large enough to fit the stroller, and it needed to have a fold-down changing table. It was difficult getting into a bathroom with my 200-pound self, plus the baby, the... Continue Reading
I just returned from a nostalgic trip to Freeport. It was here 20 years ago when I began to come out of the denial of thinking that someday soon I could control my eating, and that I “wasn’t that fat, just a little overweight.” Twenty years ago, I remember arriving at the hotel in Freeport, so very excited that I would have time and money to buy a whole new wardrobe of clothes. I was teaching middle school at that time, and badly in need of outfits that would look professional and fit my body without strangling me or having to be left unbuttoned or half zipped. I went into the dressing room with my arms filled with skirts, sweaters, pants and cardigans. I soon had feelings of frustration, as one thing after another was too tight. I thought: “Hmphh…they are making these things so skimpy! A nice store like... Continue Reading
What would you think if you were holding a beautiful red rose in your hand? Would you look at the pretty flower, feel the soft petals, and smell the wonderful scent, or would you look at the spiky thorns and think how much they could hurt you? Negativity has been a big issue for me. Over the years in FA, I have learned that it’s so very easy to be negative and that it comes rather naturally to me. For instance: I am in the middle of organizing a birthday party for our 12-year-old son. I thought it would be a great idea for the kids to go to the movies. I was uncertain about whether this would work out, but I did some research and found a movie that the boys would find very “cool.” But what did I do and think? Rather than being happy about the outcome... Continue Reading
“Grandpa, you are fat!” my then-five year old granddaughter told me. “I know,” was my reply. A week later, she told me again. It hurt, and I asked her not to say that again, but that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her grandmother, my wife for over 30 years, had never been quite that blunt with me, but she had told me at different times that I needed to cut back on my eating, and so had my skinny doctor. “Shoot for a pound a week” he would say; “two-hundred-fifty calories in less food, 250 calories in exercise. Five hundred calories a day, seven days a week, equals 3500 calories, which is one pound. It is slow and easy, not so hard to do.” Right, I thought. A friend and I had been talking to each other about losing weight—but what to do? He had been in... Continue Reading
