A major in dietetics, with a minor in humiliation

I have a B.S. in dietetics. Given the years and years I spent being obsessed with eating and food and trying to lose weight, I figured I would study nutrition. Because, as everyone knows, understanding the process by which macronutrients are broken down and used for energy is exactly how one overcomes any type of eating disorder. 

The truth is, I hated studying nutrition. Not just the subject in and of itself (though anyone trying to make sense of the different nutrition studies that seem to come out weekly can understand), but also the whole atmosphere.

It was pure hell being an overweight dietetics major. Since I didn't go to college for several years after I graduated high school, I was also about five to 10 years older than most of my fellow students. The nutrition classes I took included not only dietetics majors, but also those studying for a physical fitness type of degree. So, there was me, in my early 30s and about 20 pounds overweight, surrounded by young and fit college students.

Even writing about it now is upsetting as I remember how self-conscience I was, how stressful it was to walk into the lecture rooms in full view of everyone.

Not to mention, the classes were difficult. I remember strolling into one of my nutrition courses on the day of a test and overhearing a group of women reciting the different stages that protein goes through as it's broken down in the body, and I was like, "Oh, crap. I have to know that?!" I didn't know it, though I still managed to pass the class.  

And the science? Whew. Biochemistry and organic chemistry and biology and microbiology (that one I actually enjoyed) ... and their associated labs ("Oh, I was SO hoping we were going to get to work with sheep intestine today!" My fave lab moment: trying to pin the foot of a dead turtle down on a board only to have the foot reflexively pull itself out of my hand. Talk about the heeby-jeebies.). Plus, after sitting through my food science class, taught by a very blunt instructor, I became a vegetarian for a couple years.

And there was this girl ... I had her in several classes (lucky me). She loathed me. She didn't know me, mind you, but she was disgusted by me nonetheless. I overheard her talking about me on a few occasions; one time I heard her mention the size of my butt. I distinctly remember hearing her say to two girls who were walking with her as they followed behind me one day on campus: "Just look at her!"

Before I realized the extent of her distaste for me, I had tried talking with her once. There was a small group of us gathered in front of a classroom that was still occupied from the previous class. After a minute or two of standing there, I turned to her and said something. I don't remember what it was, but I remember that it was light and jovial, and I also remember her reaction. She slowly backed away from me, as though I had just told her I planned on murdering everyone in the room during our class, like Edward describes in "Midnight Sun." She didn't say a word back to me. I was confused by her action, but I didn't put two and two together until a bit later.

It just so happened that in the same class there was this guy who, for some reason, took a liking to me. Maybe he saw this bitc ... uh, girl's ... reaction to me and felt bad for me, or maybe he was just an all around nice guy, I don't know. He wanted me to sit by him in the lecture room. I was so caught off guard that I initially declined. I was certain he had made a mistake. Didn't he see that I was fat? Didn't he know that I was to be avoided?

I saw the disappointed look on his face as we entered the room. I sat a few rows behind him, then changed my mind. I picked up my books and moved to sit next to him. He broke out in a smile when he saw me, and he became my guardian angel in that classroom.

I don't remember his name, and I only had him in that one class. Though he resembled Matt Damon (sigh), there was never anything romantic or flirty between us; in fact, I was engaged to be married that summer.

All I really knew about him was that he was studying to become a doctor and he lived on campus with four or five guys who were also studying to be doctors. And that he was nice to me.

One afternoon, I saw him in the library as I was making copies, and he came over to me, that Matt D. smile flashing, and said, "I'm so happy to see you."

I remember feeling slightly uncomfortable. I remember wondering if he was joking, wondering if someone had put him up to it. Or, maybe it was a class assignment - "befriend the un-friendable."

I don't remember how the "relationship" ended. Probably with the end of the class.

It wasn't all doom and gloom. There was a small group of girls with whom I had several classes during the three years I was at Central. A couple girls stand out: one was young, slim, physically fit, driven - and she simply accepted me the way I was; the other was a vegan who shaved neither her legs nor her armpits, who wore no makeup and was very simple in dress and hair style. I so admired her for her conviction in her beliefs. And I envied her courage to never take a razor to her legs!

A day came, with about a semester to go, that it dawned on me that I did not want to work in nutrition. I realized that I had made a colossal mistake.

For months after I received my degree, I berated myself for wasting the chance I had to go to college. For as long as I could remember, I had wanted to be a writer. But because my life and my whole being are so hopelessly consumed (no pun intended) with food, I allowed it to persuade me in the decision of what to study. It wasn't a question of, "What do I want to do with my life?" It was more like, "What can help me make the most sense of my life and this food obsession I have?"

I've had my degree now for 12 years. And I'm still trying to untangle myself from this food snare.

After five years working in children's nutrition, I did finally get into a "writing" profession as a proofreader/editor and sometimes copywriter. And I'm about 5,000 words away from completing the first draft of my first manuscript. That dream is still very much alive.

Hopefully Miss Judgey-Pants is not out there somewhere being disgusted by her nutrition clients who aren't model thin. And the M.D. M.D. (Matt Damon Doctor of Medicine) is surely being incredibly nice to and wonderfully supportive of all his patients.

Doctor's orders

So, a couple days ago, I opened an envelope bearing the return address of the area hospital, figuring it was a bill for money I owe.

The good news: It was not a bill.

The bad news: It was a letter from my doctor's office concerning my upcoming physical on May 2.

Oh. You mean the appointment by which I had vowed to lose weight? Hmm. We may have a problem.

My last physical revealed some troublesome blood pressure, which has been an issue for me for many years; however, this time my medication didn't seem to be controlling it. I suggested my weight was causing the increase, and my doc agreed. He increased my dosage, and we talked about what I could do to lose weight. I mentioned that in the past I had had success with a variant of "low carb," particularly when I've avoided flour. (At one time, I thought I was gluten intolerant and didn't eat anything with flour for about a year or so. I felt great! More on that another time.) He again agreed that this was a great idea for me, and we talked about me getting out and walking as well.

So, I left the office with a new conviction that I would start exercising and watch my food intake, and I'd walk into his office a year later with a bounce in my (lighter) step to proudly boast the self-control and determination that had enabled me to become slimmer and healthier.

And, yes, I did lose weight this past year. But I found it again.

As I held the letter, I imagined my sheepish entrance into his office. I imagined watching the lever on the scale as it hovered exactly where (or more than) I was last year at this time.

I know my main concern should be the blood pressure. That's serious stuff. But what I will be fretting about most is my muffin top.

"Oh well," I told myself, "that is the consequence for your lack of willpower and discipline. Suck it up and face the music."

Instead, I rescheduled the appointment for May 19. Hope springs eternal.

"Hello, Kettle? This is Pot. You're black."

My son has this dramatic thing he does sometimes. An example:

He's playing a video game. I tell him to finish up, it's time for dinner. He whines that he wants to save his game. I tell him to save it, but instead, in dramatic fashion, he gets up from the couch and simply turns the system off. Then he whines as he heads upstairs that he had wanted to save his game first. I remind him that I told him to save the game, why didn't he save it? Wanting to continue his complaint of injustice in having his valuable gaming time interrupted by something as inconsequential as dinner, he whines again that he had wanted to save his game. And I say, with all wisdom and reason, "Then why would you do the opposite of what you really wanted to do?"

Hmm. Yes. Why would someone do that? My question brings to mind the paraphrased quote in the post title (from Phoebe Buffay in a conversation with Monica Geller on "Friends").

I say all the time: I want to be... thin. In shape. Able to wear flattering clothes. Healthy. But my actions are in opposition. I overeat. I don't exercise. I don't make wholesome food choices.

Well, I guess I want both. I want to be lazy and eat whatever I want in whatever quantity I want and be thin and in great shape and comfortable in a swimsuit. Obviously, that won't work. So which do I want more?

What a silly question ... of course, I want to lose weight and look/feel better!

Not according to  my actions. My actions reveal I want the opposite more.

I can wish and hope and dream all I want, but until I get my actions in line with my desires, nothing will change and I'll continue whining about what I really want and pouting about the injustice that I've had the ability to control all along.

Introduction

Well ... (looks around), this is a blog, huh?

It's nice. I think I'll like it.

Never done this before, but I've been mulling it around for quite some time.

So, here I am.

As I mentioned in the About Me section, I've struggled with food and eating for most of my life, either avoiding food altogether or eating way too much. I've tried and succeeded on many diets, though I really don't want this to be a diet blog, per se. I know how to lose weight, having done it many times. I know how to eat right. What I want to explore is, why don't I do it then? What is this pull that food has over me and so many thousands of people?

"Normal eaters" just don't get it. These are the people for whom food is a non-issue. They don't scour the cupboards when life gets stressful. They don't nosh in front of the fridge when they feel sad. They leave food behind on their plates! I know! It's mind-boggling.

What do they have that I don't?

Some will say willpower. Some will say self-control. Some mean people will say a life.

I don't know what it is. Yet.

But what I do know is that I can attain it.