It’s a Weighty issue — See What I Did There?

 Yes, weighty, indeed.  Hi, my name is Melissa and I have an eating disorder. -

And this is about the age it started.  BTW, this photo always reminds me of myself and my cousin Joy.  It is SO us!

I digress.

When I was little I was cute. Sounds egotistical but it is true.  However, as I grew and changed as we all do, I lost a lot of that cuteness.  My mother was a tiny thing -5’1”, 105 lbs, 22 inch waist, size 5 shoes.  I bypassed that when I was about 10.  At age 12 I was 5’5”, 125 lbs. and wore a 6.5 shoe.  That was when I quit growing.  My mother had a great figure, narrow hips, ample chest and a tiny waist.  Me? Yeah, not so much.  

I was very much aware at the time that my mother was the desired silhouette and I was just sort of moo-like.  I had a short torso, with a high waist, long skinny arms and legs and I couldn’t get my tummy flat to save my life.  I was developing a rather low self esteem about that time which would never right itself to this day.  When I was with my mother I just felt so, well, big and clumsy and unattractive.

About the age of 12 I was aware of hearing things like “you don’t need another hot dog, if you don’t quit eating you will be the size of a house”.  But, if I was upset over something, out came the comfort food - there isn’t anything in the world that cookies and soda can’t fix — well, except the result of the cookies and soda.

When I was in college I took a dance class (I always danced) that was half Pilates.  My little body was so toned and lean that I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror in the dressing room at the school gym.  I maintained it until after I had my first child.  Then….excuse my French …. All hell broke loose.  

The stresses off life and having a small child rained down upon me like a south Texas gully washer.  And how did I cope.  Yep, I went back to the good ol’ cookies/soda routine.  And I added ice cream.  I was on a mission that didn’t work.  I was just getting fatter and my problems weren’t going away.  

The years went by, the problems got bigger, my husband traveled a lot in his job and that took him far away for long periods of time, my children grew into teenage hood with all the good stuff that goes along with that (although nothing serious like drugs or alcohol, just grades and school activities, etc., terrible boyfriends, no girl friends, etc.), both of my parents became terminally ill and died.  Just one thing after another and as my aunt used to say “if it’s not one damn thing, it’s another”.  And it just kept coming.

So, now, with my children grown, my husband retired and having a number of health issues, my parents gone I have lots of time to sit and think about myself.  

Here I am, overweight, all my joints being affected —- we have a strong family history of arthritis which clearly I inherited and I also come from short, roly poly people which I also inherited and nurtured (my bad) and totally anxiety ridden.  

So, what’s a girl to do?

Well, I have done a lot of soul searching and self realization and I have come to conclusions.  My mother liked me when I was little and cute but as I grew and changed and looked more like my dad’s family than hers, when I didn’t excel in school, when I didn’t want to be a cheerleader or pep squad minion, when I didn’t finish college (that is a whole other story! NOT MY FAULT) I think I have realized that I was just a big disappointment to her.  I am not even sure she liked me.  I have noticed that there were loads of photos of me until about first grade and suddenly there were very few photos of me.  I was very sheltered and not allowed to do things that other kids could do (like after school clubs at school, summer jobs, etc) but then I always felt she was disappointed that I didn’t do the “performance” things and make her proud.  I remember when I was in high school, my mother getting upset over something (can’t remember what) and saying “I just don’t know why you can’t be more like J”.  Well, that stung.

The last thing I remember my mother saying to me as she lay dying was “I wish I could live long enough to see you lose all that weight”.   Well, she didn’t.

I don’t think it takes a trained psychiatrist/psychologist to see where the problem lies.

So, what to do about it.  Mom’s dead, can’t talk to her about it so the only thing to do is accept it, hope I am wrong in my feelings, and move on.

Moving on is hard.  How?  I have done WW, I have done calorie counting where I weighed and measured all my food, I have cut carbs, I have tried intermittent fasting,  I have exercised to burn calories and wouldn’t quit until I burned off everything I had eaten in a day.  Now, if this isn’t an eating disorder, I don’t know what is.

So, I have been looking into intuitive eating.  It is supposed to help with this sort of thing — an unhealthy relationship with food.  It involves eating when you are hungry, stopping when you are full, not eliminating anything from your diet, going with the idea that you might not lose weight but could gain some.  

My plan is looking like this — NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS! Even the cookies.  I quit drinking soda years ago and really crave water so there is that.  NO JOURNALING! Every time I think about journaling my food I have a physical reaction.  NO WEIGHING OR MEASURING!  I have done this enough that I know what a half cup of something looks like.  I know what a portion is.  THREE MEALS A DAY —possibly a snack.  My problem time is between lunch and dinner so that is my focus.  I think I just need to plan a snack and get on with it instead of trying to power through. 

I am going to use the intuitive eating premise that you eat when you are hungry and eat until you are full — part of the understanding here is that you are making good choices — your meal evenly weighted between protein/fats/carbs.  Heavy on veg.  Nobody got fat eating yellow squash.  I have been at it for a few days and I can say I feel a bit more relaxed.  It feels strange to sit down to a meal and just eat, not thinking to leave something on the plate that I “shouldn’t” have — it does take some courage.  A couple of times I have felt like I am eating poison — but it was really just beans.  Oh, how messed up I am!

So, yeah, sorry for the rant.  You know, after my mother died I completely expected to dream about her at some point but I never have.  I think I know why. I think I have unresolved “Mommy” issues that I didn’t realize, until the last six months, that I have.  I have dreamed about my father several times, what I figure were visitation dreams but never my mom.  I think somewhere deep down I felt that I was just not the child she wanted or thought she would have.  I don’t know that I could have fixed that even if I had known and I hope I am wrong. However, after all this soul searching I have a feeling of acceptance.  I think it is helping with the anxiety as well.  

Do I need therapy?  Oh, probably but I would rather buy clothes, even if they are plus size, and makeup and books.  I would rather pray over it and just deal with it.  Could a therapist help?  I don’t know, he/she couldn’t change it, I think just realizing that my mother wasn’t being a “bad mother” but she made some mistakes like we all do is enough.  She made some mistakes but I don’t have to continue living it — if I do that is my mistake.  

So, yeah, sorry to be so heavy and icky today but just wanted to share the weight thing. I will leave  you with this