I was born to working parents and I had one brother, six years my senior. As a child, I stayed with my grandfather during the day while my parents worked. To my delight, my grandparents lived on a farm with several cows, chickens, pigs, cats, dogs, and a pony. My grandmother had a lovely vegetable garden. Life was good and food was plentiful. My mother and grandmother were great cooks and bakers and were more than eager to teach me. I learned well and enjoyed the instant gratification that came with smelling the aromas emanating from the kitchen. Thus began my love affair with food. My weight problem started when I would eat breakfast with my parents and again with my grandfather. Then I would go across the street to my aunt’s house for another breakfast and also for extra lunches. I think I probably ate so much because I... Continue Reading
It was day seven and I was sitting at the front desk of a yoga studio fighting cravings like crazy. My job was to check people in to yoga classes and schedule massages, which was about all I could handle after being trapped in food addiction for so long. I thought back to the numerous times that I would be left alone after the rush of students scurrying about, when I could eat without interruption. If the phone rang while I was eating, I’d be angry with the caller, terrified that I’d have to stop and mortified that I might be caught mid-binge. But the fear and shame of being caught in the act of my addiction wasn’t enough to make me stop. I couldn’t stop, even when I wanted to. One time a health food company gave our yoga studio a huge amount of “healthy” treat samples. We kept... Continue Reading
Being 163 pounds at 5 feet tall was a hard pill to swallow. It was much harder than swallowing all the sugar and flower that had put me in that position to begin with. Having bi-polar disorder with manic depression and severe anxiety, I already didn’t like myself most days. Add the fact that I was extremely overweight, and I was well on my way to not liking myself at all. Most of the time all I wanted to do was escape, not just from the world, but from myself as well. I felt like I was on the outside looking in. I didn’t realize at the time that the desperation I was feeling would turn out to be such a gift. It was that desperation that got me to my first meeting. My journey started with me making an excuse as to why I couldn’t go to an FA... Continue Reading
I was sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen with a half-eaten baked good balanced precariously on my lap and a fork in my hand. We had just finished Thanksgiving dinner and I was uncomfortably full. I’d already unbuttoned the top of my jeans, but I could not keep the fork from going into my mouth. It had a life of its own. Though I regularly ate heartily in front of others, I typically did my real bingeing alone, so I was mortified to be shoveling food in my mouth in front of my slender sisters and my petite aunt who had created the dessert. And it was impossible to hide that I’d just put on 30 pounds in the past few months. I remember laughing and telling my aunt that the dessert was so good I just couldn’t stop. Everyone smiled and I kept eating, but it was not funny for... Continue Reading
I feel so grateful for freedom from flour and sugar. Before FA, I had times when I would largely eat like I am now and then other times when I just could not stop eating. It was so painful. I could not understand what was wrong with me or how I could stop. I lived alone. Although I kept no sugar or flour products in my home, there were basic ingredients that I could use for a quick fix, or I’d go out to stores I’d previously declared out of bounds, telling myself to stop this insane behavior. I tried better self-care, affirmations, photos of how I wanted to look, hanging up a garment I wanted to fit into, envisioning a thinner me, rewards, tallying up money spent on junk food, awareness I wasn’t eating out or buying clothes but spending money on flour and sugar products. Buying cheap fixes,... Continue Reading
