Living With Fat Posts

Food And Other Addictions

Audrey Hepburn once remarked that she resented food because it controls us; that, unlike other substances one might abuse, food isn’t something you can completely cut out of your life. Those who abuse alcohol or drugs can seek help from places specializing in adult addiction treatment where they’ll learn through counseling that, for an addict, there’s no such thing as “just a little bit”. You want to break an addiction, you have to go whole hog and never touch the stuff again.

With food, that’s simply not possible. Hepburn, after all, tried that approach and wound up suffering from bulimia and anorexia for much of her adult life. So, too, do many people who share her resentment of our bodies’ need to eat, a drive that for many of us has become less about necessity and more about gratifying pleasures or insulating against pain. In that sense, overweight people share a trait in common with those who abuse other substances: we use food to comfort or anesthetize us, giving it an added power over our lives beyond mere fuel for our bodies.

Like people suffering other forms of addiction, many overeaters refuse to see their addiction to food as a substance abuse problem. They claim to be “big boned” or to be baffled why they can’t lose weight (while secretly binging, as if those calories don’t count). Others blame thyroid or hormonal problems which, so they rationalize, means they aren’t personally responsible for being fat. I know: I’ve cited those same reasons myself.

And, as with a drug addict or alcoholic, people with food addictions often fail to see the dire impact their problems are having on their lives or the lives of those around them. I’ve been there, too. I’ve come up with one excuse after another to avoid taking my son to the water park, to the playground, to activities that would inevitably force me to confront how out of shape and overweight I’ve let myself become. The impact doesn’t stop there: it’s affected my marriage since I no longer feel comfortable allowing my spouse to see me undressed, no matter how much he assures me that I’m beautiful.

One thing I’ve recently learned about dealing with food as an addiction is that it can be treated in many of the same ways as other substance abuse problems, starting with a form of family intervention. With many substance abuse problems, that’s really the first step toward recovery but it’s best performed by counselors trained in drug intervention, people who know how to navigate around defense mechanisms, denial and cycles of co-dependency. When conducted by a professional, interventions have over a 95% success rate of prompting the addict to seek treatment.

Ours was less formal: over the Mother’s Day weekend my husband wanted to take me to a swanky restaurant in town. (See the co-dependency there? Feed the addict.) I refused to go, however, and I came up with all sorts of reasons: it was too expensive, I didn’t want to leave our son with the sitter, I was tired, etc. The truth? None of my pretty clothes fit, and I didn’t like the way I looked in the stuff that did. Fortunately, my husband saw through my rationalizations and pointed out how much I’ve been missing out on due to my self-consciousness about my weight.

“Do something,” he said. “You can’t get this time back that you’re missing out on. Yes, it might be boring to exercise. Yes, you might feel deprived going without chips or burgers for a while. But it will be worth it to you once you’re back to a point where you can feel good about yourself again.”

That hit home. Hard.

Hence my decision to streamline my life in a number of areas to reduce the stress which prompts me to turn to food as a source of comfort. Likewise, by reducing the number of demands on my time, I’m eliminating excuses to avoid exercising, the most important key to weight loss.

I’m using another tactic that’s important to other forms of substance abuse treatment, too: I’m cutting out the stuff that I know is harmful to me. Were I in a trained facility with licensed professionals, they’d call it drug detox, a period of time in which the body cleanses itself of toxins and breaks its physiological dependency on harmful substances while the addict works on understanding their emotional and situational triggers.

For me, that’s involved tossing out all forms of temptation in our house. Out went the chips, the crackers and candy. I even cleared out my secret stash of gummi bears. I’m letting my husband do the grocery shopping for a while so I’m not tempted to buy replacements and hide them for “just in case”, and I’ve informed my family that, while they’re welcome to have a burger or fries, they’ll have to do it when I’m not around. And, meanwhile, I’m exercising. A lot. In fact, I’m turning to that now for my source of stress relief and comfort, and the results are already beginning to show.

Why am I sharing all of this with you? Well, because that’s yet another thing that recovering from a food addiction has in common with other forms of substance abuse: the first step is admitting that you have a problem.

My name is Kate, and I’m a food addict.

Now, let the healing begin.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat and tagged with ,

No Get Up And Go

I’m exhausted today. Come to think of it, I’ve been exhausted for a couple of days but this is really the first chance I have to do something about it… as in doing nothing at all. I walked from the bed to the sofa, and despite drinking a cup of coffee en route I’m still pooped. (Heck, I was so pooped I had to use safety cutters just to open the package of coffee.)

I know I should get up and wash the dishes, do some laundry, exercise on the treadmill and take a shower. I know if I switched out of my PJs into clean ones and ran a comb through my hair I might feel better. But I’m so tired that even thinking about such things is draining.

Bad fibro days suck.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat

I’m Skinny In My Dreams

Not long ago, I noticed a strange thing about the dreams I have at night: I’m always thin in them. Not model thin, mind you, but pretty much with the same body I had before I gained weight. (Read: before I began blogging.)

Back then, of course, I still thought that I needed to lose weight and I obsessed over it. I’d dress in clothes designed to disguise my figure, hated being caught in a bathing suit and would rather have had a root canal than get undressed without first dimming the lights.

Nowadays? I’d love to go back in time and kick my much-skinnier-self’s ass. “Lighten up,” I’d say. “Think you’re fat now? Look at what’s waiting a few years down the road! Now doesn’t that swimsuit look a bit less intimidating? I thought so.”

Recently, however, I began having dreams in which I’m not thin. Not anywhere near it. As a matter of fact, I look pretty much the way that I do now — which is to say, fairly ample.

Oddly enough, I didn’t begin having these dreams until I started using my treadmill, so perhaps this is my psyche’s way of saying it’s accepted that I have a whole lot of dieting and exercise ahead of me? Like my dreams are some kind of spy camera into my subconscious?

Last night, though, I had a truly strange one. I started out dreaming about myself in my current state of ampleness… then I dreamed that I went to sleep and woke up thinner overnight. Still not model-thin, mind you. Not even skinny by, well, most people’s standards. But I’d dropped enough to get back to the attractively curvy body I’d had back when I was younger.

I’m not sure what it means, to be honest. But after dreaming of myself looking that hot in a pair of shorts and a halter top, I’m quite tempted to start sleeping a heck of a lot more.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat

Calorie Counts Via Your Cell Phone

Ever been running errands and find yourself so hungry that you’re tempted to blow your diet on fast food even though you don’t know how many calories or fat grams you’ll be buying? Well, wonder no more. If you’ve got a cell phone, Diet.com’s Nutrition on the Go service is just a text message away.

To use it, send the name of the restaurant and the name of the item you’re considering to DIET1 (34381). For example, you could text “Mcdonald’s BigMac” and Diet.com will send a text message back telling you calories, fat, carbs, and protein in one of those suckers (as in, 540 260, 45 and 25, respectively.)

Sure, at some point it’s likely that every restaurant will begin posting that information on their display so you know it before ordering, but with fast-food restaurants trying to diversify their appeal so much these days by offering everything from DVD rentals to car insurance online quotes at the drive-up, it’s likely you won’t actually read that data if you’ve got a screaming car full of kids.

So go ahead, add them to your cell phone’s contact list: Nutrition on the Go – diet1 (34381). But don’t tell them that I sent you.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat and tagged with ,

Some Days Menopause Sounds Fun

Being 40-something sucks. There’s just something about that age that’s neither here nor there: I’m no spring chicken, but anyone out of their ‘teens protests when I say I feel old. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not… and yet my brain can’t help recognizing that I’m no spring chicken anymore, either.

Not that my brain’s willing to accept that fact, mind you. It’s does a nice job of blanking out this fact: whenever I’m asked my age I start to answer, “Oh, I’m thirty-tw… uh… forty? Yeah, forty.” My brain doesn’t even acknowledge what my eyes attempt to make it recognize, either. When I look into the mirror I don’t see my face being any different from when I was in my early 30s. Then again, I don’t see much difference in my body from then, either… even though the scale and my clothing sizes tell a much, much different story.

But the truly annoying part of being 40-something: dealing simultaneously with both gray hair and pimples, oily skin and wrinkles, taking Midol for menstrual cramps and progesterone for hot flashes, while squirming into hip huggers and support hose. It’s a not-quite-here-nor-there age when adding Metamucil to Red Bull makes perfect sense.

My doctor tells me that I should enjoy this age, since “forty is the new thirty” and, besides, menopause is right around the corner. He says that latter part like it’s a bad thing, but to me it means an end to monthly cramps, breakouts and bloating and an eventual end to the annoying hot flashes that have me changing clothes more often than a teenage girl.

Besides, as soon as The Change hits I’ll be able to get away with wearing Mom Jeans again, which means no longer having to spend hours shopping for a blouse that hides my muffin top without making me look pregnant. It also means no one would ever glance at my stomach and ask “When are you due?” They’d know what they’re looking at is fat, just as I’ve known it for a couple of years now, too.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat

Premiums and Poundage Penalties

Yet another drawback to being an overweight 40-year-old mother of two who has a history of smoking, drinking and exercising as little as possible: affordable insurance is something that, like thin thighs, I pretty much just dream about.

However, because I am a mother, I know that no matter how expensive insurance is, it’s well worth it. I know of too many people who figured it was a luxury expense so they didn’t insure themselves and, unfortunately, tragedy struck and left their families struggling to replace that lost income.

Luckily, thanks to my husband’s military service, our health insurance is free. A cash value life insurance policy, on the other hand, costs a pretty penny and, really, we have better ways to use that money right now (like paying bills!).

Our solution? We’re looking into term life insurance which costs significantly less while guaranteeing that if something were to happen to either of us during the span of the term (10, 15 or 20 years), there’d be money available to support the surviving spouse and kids. Best yet, if we invest the money we’re saving on insurance premiums each month we can also build up a nice little retirement nest egg, too.

Update Your Bookmarks, Please

Part of the “behind-the-scenes” tweaking that I did over the weekend involved moving ChubbyMommy.com to a new server as well as to the root directory on that server. Previously, you’d been directed to http://www.chubbymommy.com/blog/ whereas now the site resolves to its URL.

I do have a redirection enabled to send people to the front page, but I’d appreciate if you’d update your bookmarks and blogrolls to ensure that you’re visiting http://www.ChubbyMommy.com (without the /blog/) now.

Meanwhile, I’ll get the sidebars gussied up again and the blogroll restored soon.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat

Six Pounds The Hard Way

I’ve lost six pounds in the last week. That’s usually a good thing, isn’t it?

Considering that I also had pneumonia and a fever hovering in the low 100s for six days straight, it’s really not so good. As nice as it was to get out of bed this morning for the first time in nearly a week to find a little extra room in the waistband of my jeans, the instant I looked around my house (dirty dishes, dirty laundry, dirty cat box), I started missing those six pounds.

But, hey, cleaning house burns calories, right?

So, I’m off to ensure my house passes minimal health standards, resume homeschooling (much to my son’s displeasure), catch up on email and do some blogging — all while daydreaming about checking myself into a Vegas hotel.

Something tells me that with the stress of juggling all those things I’ll be finding those six pounds again real soon.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat

Chubby Mommy Lives On

After much consideration, and quite a bit of encouragement from many of you, I’ve decided to keep ChubbyMommy.com and my other sites, too.

Five blogs are a lot to juggle but, what the heck, typing burns calories, too, doesn’t it?

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat

Willpower On Wednesday

Wednesday is ordinarily the day when I take my son out to the movies. It’s a nice weekly routine of ours, one that serves as a reward for his diligent work in homeschool while breaking up the week so it doesn’t seem so long.

It’s also one of the hardest dieting days of the week, thanks to the concession stand at the movie theater. It’s bad enough that they no longer offer “small” versions of anything: just medium, large and extra-large (which makes one wonder if medium is the new small). Bad enough they have all sorts of my favorite candies, seldom seen in convenience stores.

Nope, it’s the dang popcorn machines that inevitably prove my downfall. Let’s face it: there’s nothing particularly delicious about popcorn at the theaters except the butter. Pure liquid artery-clogging gold, that stuff.

And, yes, it’s possible to order movie theater popcorn without butter… but why? Might as well sneak in a bag of Styrofoam packing peanuts to munch on.

So I’m being a good girl today and budgeting my calories accordingly. Breakfast? Who needs breakfast? The theater opens at noon, people. I figure as long as we’re there a few minutes before that I can still call my medium popcorn with butter “brunch”.

Posted by Chubby Mommy in Living With Fat