I stopped breathing.

Last week in therapy, I stopped breathing.

I didn't even realize it.

We were talking about why I think I'm stuck here at 300 (yes, I'm back to 300.  Making it only 66 pounds lost this year.)  We were going over the things that happened when I first hit this weight.

**

It was 2001.  I had just graduated from college.  The end of most people's higher education seems to take the shape of soaring crescendo.  Mine looked like that pathetic "waaah-waaaaah" of a trumpet that signals ineptitude on a game show.  It started looking pretty shaky when my heart was broken (and I mean smashed - and I mean, for years) around semester break, but I pushed through to March for my senior thesis, directing a one-act play by Madeleine George called The Most Massive Woman Wins.  The four wonderful ladies in the cast kept me going, along with my roommate, tech director and all-around best friend, Matt.

But when that was over... well, what did I have left?  No more theater.  No love interest in my life.  No clue what to do after school ended.  And according to my senior audit, I had two more semesters of school left.  Turns out when you're in two different colleges within one big university, they sometimes require 50 extra credits of you, even when you've otherwise fulfilled all of your degree requirements.

There was no final internship or real-world job-search for me after "walking" in my cap and gown.  Instead, I spent the spring and summer in Ann Arbor.  Other than the first and only math of my college career (an advanced statistics class which my adviser mistook for an introductory class) I decided to take a full slate of film classes, because that's what sounded compelling.  (On the up-side, 50 credits of it-doesn't-matter-what-you take did point me in the right direction for my career and eventual move to Los Angeles.)

On my way into that very last final - the inappropriately non-introductory stats - I prayed to any deity that would listen: LET ME OUT OF HERE.  I wanted to get to California immediately, but I had no money.  So after I passed stats-for-not-beginners, I did what haunts the dreams of all college graduates... I moved back in with my parents.

I love my parents.  You know I love my parents.  My parents know I love my parents.  They are terrific people.  They helped me save up money to get a car and a down payment on an apartment, and even loaned me a little extra in case the temp jobs didn't kick in right away.  Despite my mom's ill health and my quest for a career in an industry that's breakneckingly competitive at best, they even encouraged me to follow my dreams.  My dad even drove with me across country with a truck full of my belongings, toward a city thousands of miles away where no job, family, friends or even apartment awaited.   They are/were GREAT PARENTS.

But if you put a 22-year-old, who has lived on her own for four years, back in her parents' house... everybody's in for quite a shock.  Those eight months in Midland were possibly some of my darkest.  I temped as an office assistant at the Company Town's company from 8 to 5, and then I sequestered myself into my childhood bedroom between the hours of 6 and 8 to watch the first syndicated showings of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on a tiny TV.  Around 8, depending on the day, I might or might not have staggered bleary-eyed into the living room.  Or kitchen.  Definitely the kitchen. 

I was lonely.  For my friends.  For Ann Arbor, and all its Culture and its cultures, and everything it represented.  For freakin' sushi.  (Oh, timing -- Midland didn't open its first Japanese restaurant until six months after I moved to LA.)  I was lonely for my freedom.

Wonderful though my parents were, being back in their home meant being back under their rules.  There was a curfew.  There was no heading out to a bar alone, which wasn't my style anyway, but I was desperate for some socializing.  My one close friend in the area was a bride-to-be/on her honeymoon/a newlywed, and though she was lovely and kind, there's only so much wedded bliss a single bridesmaid can take.  Except for Willow and Xander - and they were fictional - I felt very, very alone.  (Side note: little did I know that my future husband felt the exact same way at the exact same time.)

So I ate.  And I ate.  I ate at the first hint of heartbreak in my senior year, ordering the first of many 2 AM deliveries of Pizza House pepperoni breadsticks and milkshakes with my roommate.  I ate during my thesis - a play set in a liposuction clinic - having baked Valentine's cupcakes for no Valentine in particular.  I ate when we found the Girl Scouts special edition Samoa ice cream. ("Please, sir, I want Samoa," we joked.) I ate sushi when I left the Ann Arbor for the last time.  I really ate in Midland.  Fast food.  Slow food.  My parents' food.  My own stash.  Sometimes all in the same night.  Brazenly, not caring who saw me.  Secretly, not wanting to share.  Not wanting to be judged.  I ate.

**

I was finishing this thought when my therapist interrupted me.  "I'm sorry, but I really have to ask you to breathe."


What?

I had been expressing all of that pent-up sadness -- and anger, my therapist tells me -- and I had no idea that I'd been hyperventilating the whole time.  I took a breath.  I tried to make it a deep one.  It seemed impossible.

**

Since my therapy session last week, the concept keeps popping up again and again in my brain.

In my life, I have gained so much weight that I now cannot breathe at night without the help of a machine.

When I binged, I binged until I could hardly breathe.  And I certainly couldn't move well without breathing well.

When I exercise, I exhale.  I breathe out emotional smoke - from the embers of suppressed anger, into which I can so rarely tap.

To fully take care of myself, I must leave enough room to breathe.  In my stomach.  In my schedule.  In my heart.

Today, I will do that by posting on this blog - because holding my words back here is holding me back.  I will do that by planning my food, preparing my food, and eating my food mindfully.  I will do that by sweating at Slimmons, focusing each breath to release of whatever it is inside of me, blocking my progress.

I hope you'll take care of you today.  And I hope you'll breathe.

KEEP BREATHING.

Yesterday I was full of fear.

Afraid that the addiction would overcome me, instead of the other way around.
Afraid that I'd gain what I lost.
Afraid I would lose what I gained.
That I wouldn't listen to myself.
That there were people listening to me.
That if I struggled, and shared that struggle, people would judge me.
That if I didn't share my struggle, I would be dishonest with others - and with myself.
That I would end up in a jail of my own creation.
That I don't have what I takes.
To beat addiction.
To stay focused.
To create beautiful things.
To build a career.
To maintain my strength.
To maintain my health, in tandem with any of those other things that I was afraid I couldn't do.

Yesterday I was full of fear.

Today I am breathing.

The big picture is terrifying.  But I need not look directly at it, searing my eyes like the sun.  I have to remember that each small step draws me closer.  All I need to do is keep my eyes on each small step.  And breathe.

Share your truth and keep breathing.
Be mindful and keep breathing.
Gather yourself and keep breathing.
Put pen to paper and keep breathing.
Get active and keep breathing.
Be still and keep breathing.
Forgive yourself and keep breathing.

I just tried art journaling for the first time.  I'm not an artist, but I am a recovering perfectionist.  I remind myself that it does not have to be perfect.  It just has to be true.

  
Food log, Tuesday September 20
Breakfast - Slice of whole grain bread with 1/2 peach and 2 tb fat free ricotta mixed with 1/4 tsp sugar-free almond syrup.  1 boiled egg.
Morning snack - 16 oz pressed vegetable juice.
Late lunch - at a combination restaurant/movie theater.  3 mini roasted portobello sliders with about a cup of chips.  Ginger chicken fresh spring roll in rice paper.  Peanut butter mousse.
Dinner - I didn't eat it.
Beverages - 64 oz water.

Food log, Wednesday September 21
Breakfast - at a buffet restaurant. Egg Beaters omelet with mushrooms and cheese. 1/2 slice french toast with tsp syrup. 1 chicken sausage. 1/2 cup hash browns. 1/2 cup apple salad.  Two pieces of pineapple.  Mini bagel with 2 oz salmon, 2 tomato slices, and tsp cream cheese.
Lunch - at a restaurant.  Seared ahi tuna chopped salad with cabbage and champagne vinaigrette.  Side order of corn bread with tb maple butter.
Snack - I bought a very large box of coconut candy.  I ate two pieces, and, disgusted with myself, threw the rest away.
Dinner - at a mini golf course. Small turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato.
Beverages - 4 ounces coconut water with pomegranate and acai, 8 ounces skim milk, 64 ounces water

It's not perfect, but it's true.

Take care of you.

Weigh-in Tuesday, and thoughts on empty calories

I'll get right to the point this morning: this week, I'm down another pound and a half. 298!  The farther I get from 300, the more confident I feel about staying away from it forever.

Last week's therapy session was very insightful.  My therapist always helps me see things more clearly, even if they're things I've just said out loud.  It's funny how saying things out loud doesn't necessarily mean that it sinks in.  I was telling her how strangely terrifying it is to not know how you look at a lower weight.  The last time I was less than 300, it was in college.  I was 12 years younger (and those 12 years are kind of a big deal; faces change a lot from 20 to 32.)  From here on, as I lose weight, I'm going to start not recognizing myself.  My therapist connected that fear with my plateau (and with the binge after weigh-in that I wrote about last week.)  My subconscious is having trouble dealing with the fact that there's a lot of change going on with my body.  So I'm doing some visualization exercises, and hopefully we'll shake that subconscious into acceptance.

The survey I posted yesterday (which is still open if you'd like to participate) has been very helpful.  It's sometimes hard to peg what kinds of blog entries (or themes) are most compelling to my readers, and it's very helpful to hear what works and what doesn't. 

I did get one answer about improving the blog that made me stop and think. And think. And think. And if there's that much thinking, it must be something important.  This reader - a friend or family member who knows me from Facebook - would change this about my blog:


"Less about sweet things-- reading about sugar and other empty calories makes me anxious."

I was surprised by the answer, and my knee-jerk response was: "What empty calories?"  I work very hard on keeping all things in moderation.  It's true that if I eat emotionally, it's primarily sugar that I'm craving.  But even those times when I eat an unplanned food, I'm not eating a lot of it. For instance, last week's binge, which was an ice cream cone.  It's not the amount of food that makes it a binge.  It's the reasoning behind my eating.  It's the unplanned and not-mindful way I am eating.  Which, as a food addict, does happen occasionally.  And I'm working very hard to minimize it in my life.

Do I come across as eating a lot of empty calories?  I'm kind of surprised about that, because for the first time in my life, this year has seen the complete elimination of all fast food (it's been 9 months since I've so much as stepped inside one, let alone eaten at one.) 

We cook, on average, 20 out of 21 meals each week, and that one meal out is most likely at Tender Greens, where I've ordered my usual 3 ounces of seared albacore, a cup of mixed greens and either roasted veggies or a half-cup of mashed potatoes (550 or 650 calories total.)  We buy 48 servings of fresh fruit and 72 servings of fresh vegetables every week, and they're gone by the end of the week.  (that's 3 servings of fruit daily for me, and 5+ servings of vegetables.) 

With rare exception, I eat around 1400 calories daily. Yesterday's, for example, was a pretty standard day.

Breakfast: 
1 slice whole grain toast (70 calories)
Sliced nectarine
2 tb fat free ricotta (mixed with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a 1/4 teaspoon of sugar-free almond syrup) (25 calories)
1/4 tsp honey (6 calories)
1 boiled egg (70 calories)

Lunch: 
4 ounces of grilled ground turkey (160 calories)
2 slices of light whole wheat (80 calories)
1 tsp lowfat vegenaise (15 calories)
1 laughing cow cheese wedge (30 calories)
3 pickle slices (negligible calories) 
1 cup of baked yam (177 calories)
1 tb of homemade blue cheese aioli (30 calories)

Afternoon snack:
1 plum (30 calories)

Dinner:
1 cup baked spaghetti squash with 1/2 slice turkey bacon, tsp Parmesan, and 1/4 of an egg (94 calories)
1 cup roasted veggies with tsp balsamic & a spritz of Pam (110 calories)
1/2 cup white beans with sage and garlic & a 1/2 tsp olive oil (134 calories)

Beverages:
64 ounces of water (0 calories)
8 ounces of stevia-sweetened Virgil's (0 calories)
8 ounces of skim milk (70 calories)

Where do the empty calories fit in?  You could say the cheese is "empty," but it fits into my scheduled fats, and I'm still getting the majority of my necessary fat intake from unsaturated sources (olive oil, vegenaise.)  And honestly, regular small servings of things like cheese keep me from seeking large servings of things like cheese.

Nevertheless, the survey answer stung.  So it must be touching a nerve.  I went back to my recipes, to catalogue them, to see if I posted a lot of recipes for sweet things.  Here's the most recent two pages of recipes, going back to late June:

Savory
Rosemary Quinoa
Curried Chickpea Salad
Broccoli Slaw
Blue Cheese Aioli
Southwestern Popcorn
Roasted Zucchini
Heirloom Tomato & Egg Sandwich
Ginger Noodle Stir-Fry
Stuffed Squash Blossoms

Sweet
Cinnamon-Sugar Popcorn
Zucchini-Blueberry Mini Muffins
Figs with Goat Cheese
Key Lime Mini Tarts
Diet Butterbeer
Whole Wheat Pancakes with Fruit Compote

So, yeah.  OK.  They're right.  There are several sweet recipes.  Though most are low-calorie, and most are sweetened with fruit.  Still, it proves that I do include a bunch of sweet recipes.  Too much for one of my readers.  How about you?  Would you prefer to see less sweet?  Are you worried about my empty calories?  Would you prefer, for instance, when I post the recipes for the most recent Supper Club 600, that I skip the 50-calorie tiramisu recipe?

I'm torn.  Part of me wants to listen and take heed.  There were times in the past where I didn't want to hear people's thoughts on my dietary intake, and it wasn't for the best.  But part of me... knows exactly what I eat, why I eat, and how hard I'm working on what I eat.  And that part of me just wants to say, "FORGET YOU*, I'm taking care of me, and you don't get a say in how that's done."

Because it is being done. 

Take care of you today.  You're the only one who gets to do it.


*Cee-Lo Green radio-edited for politeness.

Suck it, Yoda.

It's Tuesday, which usually means a trip to the scale and a weigh-in report here.  But since I've been flu-y, I don't want that number to be artificially low.  So I'm skipping the weigh-in this week and hopefully once my body is more recovered next week, the number won't be out of whack either.

During Tom's fever-induced naptime this weekend, I happened to stumble upon a Star Wars marathon on TV.  So I listened to The Empire Strikes Back while doing some photo editing.  And as Yoda schooled an impatient Luke on Dagobah, I found myself getting pretty pissed off.

Let's be clear.  I love Star Wars - and have ever since my brother introduced them to me one at a time, on his trips home from college.  And boy howdy did I respond.  I was a pretty nerdy kid.  For my eleventh birthday, my hair was done up in the Return of the Jedi double braid crown.  The first essay I ever typed on a computer (around the same time) began with "I know everything there is to know about X-Wing Flyers." Yoda is my favorite character, other than my schoolgirl crush on Luke. (Don't be surprised that it's not Han. I also prefer Raoul over Erik, Riley over Spike, and young X over young Magneto. Though it's impossible not to prefer Rhett over Ashley.)

Anyway... as I listened to Yoda's fatalistic platitudes on Sunday, I found myself thinking he was full of crap.

Wrong, you are.  Full of the force, am I.  Filled with crap, I am not.

Wrong again, Yoda.

Here's the thing.  You ask Luke to lift a whole ship out of a mud-laden swamp with just his mind.  You say...

"Do or do not.  There is no try."

It has, in fact, become one of the most popular quotes to come from the movie. (Next to... that one.  You know the one.  "Scruffy-looking nerf herder.")  And, like Yoda, it is full of crap.

Now, I'm not saying Luke can't do it.  You and I both know he can.  But Luke needs practice.  And what's another way to say that?  He's trying.

My first day working out at Slimmons - my first minute, actually - I was struggling.  The aerobics was kicking my ass, and I wasn't sure I was going to make it through all 90 minutes.  And, in fact, I didn't.  Within 20 minutes, my heart was pounding so hard that I felt nauseous.  I had to do the rest of the workout sitting.  I was humiliated.  The road ahead of me seemed not just challenging but completely impossible.

But Richard, and the kind people at Slimmons, encouraged me.  So I came back to the next class, and I sat down before I felt nauseous.  I kept attending.  The more I worked, the longer I could make it before needing to sit down.  And within a month, I made it through all 90 minutes.

On the journey to better health, you'll face all kinds of challenges.  You won't be able to do everything you want to do, right away, so try to be patient with yourself.  Sometimes you'll be your own challenge, and a food choice or a missed workout you regret will make you want to throw it all away - because you've been told all your life that you're supposed to be perfect.

Well, no one is perfect.  And all we can do is take that regret and transform it to wisdom.  NO DAY is a lost day, if you don't let it be lost.  If you missed your workout after work, can you talk a walk with your family after dinner?  If you overate at lunch, try thinking about it, talking about it, and letting it go.

There's too much pressure on us (from ourselves, mostly) to perform perfectly at everything from moment one.  The ensuing shame and fear will only make it that much harder to try and keep trying.  Remind yourself that you're not perfect, and then take a moment to be mindful.  You don't have to wait until tomorrow.  You don't have to wait at all.  Every minute is a new minute for you to take care of yourself.  And taking care of yourself takes practice.

You say "there is no try"?  Well, suck it, Yoda.  I say...

Try or try not.  But there is no do without try.

It's Weigh-In Tuesday, and I am not ashamed.

This weekend, I admitted to the lovely Alexa (from The Curvy Nerd) that for the last week or so, I'd been feeling kind of disconnected from talking about the weight loss here at Finishing the Hat.  We both have similar feelings about acceptance and shame when it comes to food: when we make choices that aren't ideal, the last thing we should be doing is flagellating ourselves.

When I am hard on myself for my choices, I find myself wanting to self-medicate (or punish) with more food, not less.  When I own what I eat, when I refuse shame, then it's not hard for me to see the very next choice as an opportunity to nourish instead of punish.  For me, shame leads to disordered eating (or the temptation of disordered eating.) Acceptance leads to moderation and genuine nourishment.

I told Alexa that, following a few generally-too-caloric days last week, I decided not to talk much about it here.  That malignant voice of shame was bubbling up inside of me, using words like "bad" and "stupid," even as I was working on patience and acceptance.  So I figured I'd put some distance between me and the choices I made, in order to fully embrace acceptance and stave off the shame.  And you know what? It helped.

So today I'm sharing a few choices I struggled with recently.  I'm feeling proud that despite which challenges I bested (and which challenges bested me), I'm still making great strides.

• Over Memorial Day, we spent 24 consecutive hours at a two-day barbecue, during which I had about three drinks, three ribs, three cookies, and three chocolate/peanut butter/bacon truffles (plus a grilled sausage and a chocolate Zinger.)   I also made some nourishing choices. We brought fresh market fruit, which I enjoyed in moderation.  I snacked mostly on grilled veg and crunchy veg.  I had a slice of scrumptious veg-filled and parmesan-laced frittata.  We grilled some fruit which I enjoyed with a touch of vanilla ice cream.  Sure, we could have skipped the party or attended for a shorter time.  Sure, I could have brought my own food.  But I am not ashamed that I didn't. And I'm not ashamed about what I ate.  I had a lovely time with friends, I didn't agonize over the food, and when I found myself feeling less energetic for the few days after the party, I remembered how much I appreciate the kinds of food I typically eat, in the amounts I typically eat them. 

• At Disneyland two days after the party, I found myself surrounded again by food that was less than ideal for me.  There are healthy options available at the park, and we were able to seek them out, although my portion sizes were larger than usual.  After you've been walking around in the sun for a few hours, it's awfully hard not to eat everything on your plate.  But the real challenge for me was walking past sweet treat after sweet treat.  On our way out, we were walking through the stores to avoid the parade crowd.  Right through the candy and ice cream shops.  I stood between the two (with a foot in each as though I was at the Four Corners monument) and thought long and hard about whether I wanted to eat something.  Finally, Tom told me outright, "you don't really want this."  And I knew he was right, so I stomped out of the store, and out of the park, like I was angry at him or at the world.  I wasn't.  I was angry at my food addiction.  But over the last week, I've tried to be patient with myself about it.  So my portions were a little too big.  I struggled with making a healthy choice, and I'm not ashamed.

• In preparation for our dinner party on Saturday, I tried a new flavor for Cake Pop Quest.  I'll have the recipe for you tomorrow, but I've already told my friends that if they want this flavor again, they will have to make it.  Not because it was bad... but because it was so good, I don't think I could keep them in my house.  So far, I've had one or two of each of the pop attempts, and that's that.  But this new flavor?  As I mixed the frosting into the cake crumbs, I realized I made a little too much of it. And before I realized what I was doing, that little-too-much frosting was gone.  Yep, I ate it.  It was delicious.  And that's when I knew: coconut cake pops?  Not for me.  Too tempting to make, unless I'm able enjoy them in moderation.  And I'm not ashamed to say so.

These are the challenges, folks.  Sometimes they bite me in the ass. Sometimes I bite them in the ass.  But what matters is that every day, I commit myself to this life-long process of taking good care of myself.

And that commitment pays off.  The scale this morning?  It's down another 3.2, bringing my total to...

55 pounds lost. 

Thanks to all of you for your support.  It is much easier to do this, knowing you're here.  I hope that you'll take good care of yourselves today, and that you won't be hard on yourselves despite your mistakes.  We all make them.  And we shouldn't be ashamed.

On shame, and self-worth

One of my very favorite podcasts is KCRW's Good Food, a weekly show that runs the gamut - from what's seasonal at the farmer's market, to area restaurant reviews, to interesting features about the culture, science, and politics of food.  I was catching up on some older episodes yesterday when I came upon Slate writer Christy Harrison's account of her Hive topic.

Hive is a Slate discussion forum in which readers are invited to offer solutions to wide-ranging problems.  Harrison's topic was Childhood Obesity.  When host Evan Kleiman asked about extreme proposals, this is what Harrison reported:

"We saw quite a few responses that talked about how kids needed to be shamed into being healthier and feel stigmatized for being overweight if we were ever going to have hope to make them lose weight we needed to make them feel bad about themselves."

 I'm going to venture a guess that those responses were from people who have never struggled with disordered eating, depression, or obesity.

There's plenty of information out there about how size is not a valid indicator of health.  Take me, for instance.  Someone who doesn't know me could look at me and assume that I'm due for a heart attack.  But compare my blood pressure with, I dunno, anyone outside of a serious athlete, and mine will probably be healthier.

I don't really want to talk about my physical health, though.  I want to talk about my mental health.  I want to talk about what shame did for me.

Before I became active this year, I was filled with shame.  Every time we'd walk with friends, or we'd be invited on a hike with family, I would be humiliated that I couldn't keep up.  Or humiliated that I was puffing.  So I'd elect not to walk with them.  I'd elect not to walk at all.

Whenever anyone would comment on what I ate - "wow, that looks... filling..."  "you shouldn't be eating that cupcake..." etc.  I felt so much self-loathing.  Anger at myself, and a LOT of anger at whoever was judging me.  After all, much of the time, I ate just fine.  I maintained weight for several years, with a gradual uptick.  Some of the time I didn't eat well.  But I doubt you ever saw me.  Because I was so ashamed of it, I did it when I was alone.  And the more anyone tried to make me feel shameful about it, the more I'd eat - in private -  as a reaction.

Shame, for me, was not a motivator.  It was the anti-motivator.  It made everything that much worse.

It was not until I went to therapy, and worked on everything surrounding my disordered eating and lack of exercise, that I was able to work on that issue, too.  It wasn't until I found the Fat Acceptance community, and realized that I deserved respect no matter what I looked like, that I was ready to respect myself.  It was not until I felt worthy of taking care of myself that I was ready to make the changes in my life that have made me stronger, more nourished, more balanced.

I'm not an Oprah watcher, but I caught her last show yesterday. (I'm a sucker for finales.)  She said something that rang so very true to me:

"There's a common thread that runs through all of our pain and all of our suffering, and that is unworthiness.  Not feeling worthy enough to own the life you are created for.  ...  You're worthy because you are born and because you are here. Your being here, your being alive makes worthiness your birthright. You alone are enough."

Shaming the overweight and the obese only creates pain and suffering for them.  If you want to change others' lives, try helping them to feel worthy enough to take care of themselves, in all possible ways.

OK. I'll step down off my soapbox.  I AM curious to hear your thoughts on how to help children be healthier, though, so let me know if you have any ideas.

I'll leave you with my last food log this time around...

Wednesday, May 25 - 1392 calories

Breakfast - 1/2 cup fat free Greek yogurt, 1/2 cup rhubarb sauce, 1/2 cup honey oat cereal, 1 egg

Lunch - 1 artichoke, 1.5 tsp lemon-butter, 3 oz scallops, 1 tsp cocktail sauce, corn sandwich (1/2 cup corn, Kraft single, 2 slices low cal whole wheat), 2 apricots

Afternoon snack - 2 oz sourdough, 1 oz goat cheese

Dinner - 2 cups tomato-cucumber salad, 1 veggie burger sandwich (2 slices light whole wheat, veggie burger patty, 5 pickle chips, 1 wedge Laughing Cow, 1 tsp veganaise) 1 peach, 1/2 cup raspberries

Beverages - 32 oz water

...and then, on recommendation from Oprah to remind you how I feel about you:

"I see you.  I hear you.  And what you say matters to me." 

So take care of you - today and every day.