Well, I did get to use the "I'm not hungry" line, although it was only to myself.
I was heading to work after my previously post-poned doctor's appointment, which ended up going okay. Although I had lost and regained weight between the yearly appointments, it actually appeared that I had stayed the same. My doctor must think I'm completely pitiful when it comes to controlling my eating and losing weight and exercising. As I was talking about my seemingly life-long struggle with food, I felt my voice crack and hoped that he didn't notice.
Some advice he offered (keep in mind that my doctor is young and very fit) that he stated works for him is planning on running in a particular marathon, which forces him to train. A marathon? Me? Is he nuts?
I've noticed that when I plan a goal for some future time, like wanting to fit in a bridesmaid dress by my friend's wedding date (I ended up having to have the dress let out), or wearing a certain size jeans by June 1 (which was a goal I made this past January), or whatever, I hardly EVER achieve the goal. I don't know what it is, I just end up sabotaging myself or rationalizing that "I have time, I can eat this." and I fail almost every time. What is that about? I can always visualize myself meeting the goal ... maybe part of the problem is that I put too many expectations on losing weight. Like, not only will I simply fit into my jeans or the bridesmaid dress, but I'll be successful and rich and surrounded by friends and admirers, have that beautiful kitchen I've always wanted ... so on.
Anyway, totally off the "I'm not hungry" subject.
I'm driving to work after the "not as humiliating as I thought it would be" appointment and I see a McDonald's in the distance.
"Mmm, I think I'll stop and get a double cheeseburger and small fries," I think to myself.
The gluttony, super-fat, rationalizing part of my brain says, "No ... get a Quarter Pounder with cheese meal. Yum!"
After considering it briefly ... "No," I reply. "Money's tight until payday. I'd rather spend $2 than $6."
"Okay ... a double cheeseburger and fries will still be good."
Suddenly, I realize ... I'M NOT HUNGRY.
"On second thought," I say, "I'm not even hungry."
"So?" Glutton brain says. "That's hardly ever stopped you before. It'll be tasty ..." it taunts.
"Yeah, it will be tasty," I acknowledge. Then I come to my senses. "But I'm really not hungry."
Glutton-brain panics. "Yeah. Well ..." Thinking fast, it rationalizes, "But you'll be hungry later and you won't be able to go out then. Might as well eat now to head it off later."
"Isn't that a little dumb to eat NOW because I might be hungry LATER?" I say. "Besides, I've been trying to prove to myself for days that hunger won't kill me. If I get hungry later, I'll be fine."
Glutton-brain notices that the McD's is coming up quickly. "But, but ... McD fries are SO good!", it whines, and attempts to send signals to my hands and arms to put the turn signal on and get into the center turning lane. My hands twitch on the steering wheel, but I'm able to thwart the signal and get into the far right lane as we zoom by the restaurant.
"#*&@#!" Glutton-brain mumbles.
I was pretty proud of myself for really listening to my body. And I was fine throughout the afternoon.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
So, which is it?
I've been encountering several contradictory articles lately regarding food. A few examples:
Of course, I tend to agree with the advice that sounds the yummiest and easiest for me to follow. If a study came out suggesting that frosted sugar cookies may help reduce anything that can be bad in life, I would be happy.
- One article stating that if you skip meals or go more than six hours without eating, you'll sabotage all weight loss efforts because your body will think it's starving and hang on to all available fat with a vengeance, and another article stating that skipping occasional meals is actually an effective way to lose weight and will not harm your metabolism in the least.
- General articles and advice that recommend consuming skim or non-fat dairy products and another article discussing recent studies that suggest dairy fat may help with reducing/controlling blood pressure.
- The general advice that everyone should drink eight 8-ounce glasses of water every day, and an article that states everyone should drink eight 8-ounce servings of any beverages, which could include diet soda and coffee/tea.
- Not to mention the different reports on high fructose corn syrup ... is it poison that wreaks havoc on our bodies or simply another form of (cheap) sugar that is no different from glucose?
Of course, I tend to agree with the advice that sounds the yummiest and easiest for me to follow. If a study came out suggesting that frosted sugar cookies may help reduce anything that can be bad in life, I would be happy.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Feeling hot (and not in a good way)
Well, it's only May and I already had the day that is usually reserved for a nice warm day in the summer. This is the day where it's very warm out and I spend a considerable amount of time beating myself up for not sticking with whatever diet I had been on since January so that I would look good and be comfortable in shorts.
At my son's baseball game last Thursday, the weather was super hot and humid. I was dressed in a 3/4-length sleeved shirt and jeans, while so many around me were in cute shorts/capris and tank tops. Toned arms and cellulite-free legs abounded.
Grr. When will I ever get my act together?
At my son's baseball game last Thursday, the weather was super hot and humid. I was dressed in a 3/4-length sleeved shirt and jeans, while so many around me were in cute shorts/capris and tank tops. Toned arms and cellulite-free legs abounded.
Grr. When will I ever get my act together?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Killer Hunger
Hunger - it's like an evil thing, to be avoided at all costs. I mean the phrase is "hunger pains." PAIN. Not hunger nudges. Not hunger you-might-want-to-think-about-getting-a-snack.
Look at these two phrases:
1. Labor pains
2. Hunger pains
Not even close to the same thing, right? But sometimes I behave as though the latter is as bad as the former.
Because I tend to eat according to outside cues rather than inner hunger, I don't often feel hunger pains. But when I do, it's like an agony that I have to relieve immediately. I'll get home from work, and as I'm cooking dinner, I'm eating cereal out of the box or a downing handful of chips to ease the hungry agony. Why not just wait until I sit down to dinner?
Some years ago, I followed a plan called the Weigh Down Workshop, a Christian-based group that had the premise that God gives us internal cues to tell us when we're hungry and when we're full, i.e., when to eat and when to stop eating. On the first day, you aren't supposed to eat anything at all until you feel TRUE hunger, and note what time of day it was. For me, it was 4 p.m. before I felt real, true hunger. But had it been a different day, I would have eaten breakfast, lunch and a couple snacks by then. I need to get back to that, just listening to my body. Another premise of this group is that you can eat anything you want, just eat only when hungry and stop when full. "Eat anything you want" is a dangerous phrase for compulsive/emotional eaters. But I digress ...
Way back in the day, my microbiology professor was talking about dieting and how diets will tout the fact that people using a particular plan will not be hungry. He said (paraphrasing) "If you're trying to lose weight and you eat less food than you usually do, you'll be hungry. It's a fact. Just deal with it."
On Monday, I decided to experiment and teach myself that hunger isn't a bad guy. I decided I wasn't going to eat while I was at work. Many times while I'm working, as I find myself tackling something a bit stressful, I'll automatically eat; without food, I'll just have to find a way to get through the stress on my own. Plus, I also wonder, I sit at a desk all day; how many calories do I really need to sustain that?
I did it. There was a period of time around 1 p.m./2 p.m. where I was rather uncomfortable with an empty stomach, but I didn't give in. And get this. I SURVIVED. I ate a regular dinner, but no before bedtime snack, and I felt rather good.
Though how I was ever anorexic in my life is beyond me.
In one of my comments to Alana (http://www.foodismyfrenemy.blogspot.com/), I talked about how the phrase "I'm not hungry" is rather foreign to me. I'm going to use it this week at some point and see what happens.
Look at these two phrases:
1. Labor pains
2. Hunger pains
Not even close to the same thing, right? But sometimes I behave as though the latter is as bad as the former.
Because I tend to eat according to outside cues rather than inner hunger, I don't often feel hunger pains. But when I do, it's like an agony that I have to relieve immediately. I'll get home from work, and as I'm cooking dinner, I'm eating cereal out of the box or a downing handful of chips to ease the hungry agony. Why not just wait until I sit down to dinner?
Some years ago, I followed a plan called the Weigh Down Workshop, a Christian-based group that had the premise that God gives us internal cues to tell us when we're hungry and when we're full, i.e., when to eat and when to stop eating. On the first day, you aren't supposed to eat anything at all until you feel TRUE hunger, and note what time of day it was. For me, it was 4 p.m. before I felt real, true hunger. But had it been a different day, I would have eaten breakfast, lunch and a couple snacks by then. I need to get back to that, just listening to my body. Another premise of this group is that you can eat anything you want, just eat only when hungry and stop when full. "Eat anything you want" is a dangerous phrase for compulsive/emotional eaters. But I digress ...
Way back in the day, my microbiology professor was talking about dieting and how diets will tout the fact that people using a particular plan will not be hungry. He said (paraphrasing) "If you're trying to lose weight and you eat less food than you usually do, you'll be hungry. It's a fact. Just deal with it."
On Monday, I decided to experiment and teach myself that hunger isn't a bad guy. I decided I wasn't going to eat while I was at work. Many times while I'm working, as I find myself tackling something a bit stressful, I'll automatically eat; without food, I'll just have to find a way to get through the stress on my own. Plus, I also wonder, I sit at a desk all day; how many calories do I really need to sustain that?
I did it. There was a period of time around 1 p.m./2 p.m. where I was rather uncomfortable with an empty stomach, but I didn't give in. And get this. I SURVIVED. I ate a regular dinner, but no before bedtime snack, and I felt rather good.
Though how I was ever anorexic in my life is beyond me.
In one of my comments to Alana (http://www.foodismyfrenemy.blogspot.com/), I talked about how the phrase "I'm not hungry" is rather foreign to me. I'm going to use it this week at some point and see what happens.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
It's okay ... I have cake
So, I'm at this award ceremony dinner event. It's taking place in a popular event center in a nearby city that has a few scary areas in it as far as incidents of crime. It doesn't take long to drive from the event center and find yourself in an area that may make you a bit leery, so I always have the exact route ready for getting back on the highway toward home.
On this night, however, the on-ramp was closed due to construction. I'm a bit nervous, but I see detours and other cars following the detours, so I don't panic quite yet. As I continue, I notice the posted detours are for a particular street, but do not indicate how I can get back onto the highway. I also begin to notice that there are no longer any other cars on the street, and I am now in a random residential neighborhood. Now I'm beginning to panic. I see some storefronts, but nowhere that I want to get out and ask for directions. I see a random guy walking along the side of the road, another riding his bike. My anxiety level is beginning to skyrocket as I realize I'm getting more and more lost in an area of the city that I'm completely unfamiliar with and it's getting pretty dark outside. I can't even call my husband and ask him where I need to go because I don't have a clue as to where I am and I certainly am not stopping to look at street signs. I grab the slice of cake lying next to me and eat it in three big bites.
(sound effect: the screeching noise of a needle on a record)
Cake? What cake?
Well, let me back up.
As we left the dinner and ceremony for the evening, the large delicious-looking cake that had been set just inside the entrance (to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the awards) had been cut into small slices and set on napkins for guests to take as they left. It was white cake, with a thick layer of that white sugary bakery frosting that is THE BEST. Anyone who knows me knows I love frosted sugar cookies and white cake with frosting (a la traditional wedding cake). So, I take a slice, and ask my colleagues if they plan to take one, and they both decline, referring to the small slice of cheesecake we had had for dessert not more than an hour before. Normal eaters. What can you do with them?
I was like, "Oh, yeah, I did just have a slice of cheesecake, didn't I?" But my rationalization gene smelled sugar and kicked on, saying, "It's not like you get this kind of cake every day. And you already have it in your hand; what are you going to do? Go put it back? Don't be ridiculous. Plus you don't have to eat it tonight, just take it home."
Ooh, my rationalization gene is good. It KNOWS damn well that I'm eating that slice of cake tonight, but it has even me convinced that I'll save it for tomorrow.
So, that's why I have a slice of cake in the car with me as I'm driving around, talking to myself, peering fervently out the window for a street name that looks familiar. And in my high anxiety state, I ate that cake.
"Ate" maybe is the wrong word, because that implies using utensils, chewing, tasting and swallowing. I "used" that cake is more like it. I literally ate it in three bites, just shoved it in, not for the flavor, not because I was hungry, but to drown out the panic and fear that were bubbling up within me. I used it to calm me down.
Was it delicious? I'm sure it was. I remember it was moist, and the frosting was thick, both excellent qualities for a cake to have. But taste? I honestly have no idea how it tasted. Really. I think back on those two bites, and I remembering having a full mouth, chewing and swallowing, and doing it all quickly. I don't remember tasting it.
Which is a shame. Because this was the kind of cake that was meant to be savored. You get a bite on your fork, making sure you have just the right proportions of frosting and cake, and put it in your mouth, making one of those "Mmmm" sounds heard countless times on The Food Network each day. And maybe your eyes even roll back into your head as you savor the moist vanilla-ness of the cake and the creamy mouth feel of the frosting. It was baked to be a cake. It was not baked to be a sedative.
As I drove, I found myself at a busy road, which I took to be a good sign. I turned in a direction I thought would lead me toward something familiar. As it turned out, I ended up right back at the event center. Not wanting to take another chance at getting lost, I parked and headed back inside to ask for directions. Before I got to the door, three people came out, a husband and wife, and another woman. I told them my dilemma, and one lady told me the way to go, then the other lady asked her husband if I could just follow them and they'd show me where to turn to get onto the highway, mentioning that if she was in my situation, she'd be a bit scared, too. I was so utterly grateful for these kind people, and they got me exactly where I needed to be.
I waved to them as I turned onto the road that took me to the on-ramp for the highway and said a prayer of blessing for them. As I headed home, I felt myself begin to relax. I hadn't realized exactly how nervous I had been until I got back into my car to follow my lifesavers and realized I had been shivering, not from a chill, but from nerves.
Along with the steadying of those nerves, I also felt full. I could feel the heaviness of the cake in my stomach, and I felt so bummed that I had eaten it that way. I wished I had simply enjoyed it, at a table, with a fork, while I was feeling good and happy.
On this night, however, the on-ramp was closed due to construction. I'm a bit nervous, but I see detours and other cars following the detours, so I don't panic quite yet. As I continue, I notice the posted detours are for a particular street, but do not indicate how I can get back onto the highway. I also begin to notice that there are no longer any other cars on the street, and I am now in a random residential neighborhood. Now I'm beginning to panic. I see some storefronts, but nowhere that I want to get out and ask for directions. I see a random guy walking along the side of the road, another riding his bike. My anxiety level is beginning to skyrocket as I realize I'm getting more and more lost in an area of the city that I'm completely unfamiliar with and it's getting pretty dark outside. I can't even call my husband and ask him where I need to go because I don't have a clue as to where I am and I certainly am not stopping to look at street signs. I grab the slice of cake lying next to me and eat it in three big bites.
(sound effect: the screeching noise of a needle on a record)
Cake? What cake?
Well, let me back up.
As we left the dinner and ceremony for the evening, the large delicious-looking cake that had been set just inside the entrance (to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the awards) had been cut into small slices and set on napkins for guests to take as they left. It was white cake, with a thick layer of that white sugary bakery frosting that is THE BEST. Anyone who knows me knows I love frosted sugar cookies and white cake with frosting (a la traditional wedding cake). So, I take a slice, and ask my colleagues if they plan to take one, and they both decline, referring to the small slice of cheesecake we had had for dessert not more than an hour before. Normal eaters. What can you do with them?
I was like, "Oh, yeah, I did just have a slice of cheesecake, didn't I?" But my rationalization gene smelled sugar and kicked on, saying, "It's not like you get this kind of cake every day. And you already have it in your hand; what are you going to do? Go put it back? Don't be ridiculous. Plus you don't have to eat it tonight, just take it home."
Ooh, my rationalization gene is good. It KNOWS damn well that I'm eating that slice of cake tonight, but it has even me convinced that I'll save it for tomorrow.
So, that's why I have a slice of cake in the car with me as I'm driving around, talking to myself, peering fervently out the window for a street name that looks familiar. And in my high anxiety state, I ate that cake.
"Ate" maybe is the wrong word, because that implies using utensils, chewing, tasting and swallowing. I "used" that cake is more like it. I literally ate it in three bites, just shoved it in, not for the flavor, not because I was hungry, but to drown out the panic and fear that were bubbling up within me. I used it to calm me down.
Was it delicious? I'm sure it was. I remember it was moist, and the frosting was thick, both excellent qualities for a cake to have. But taste? I honestly have no idea how it tasted. Really. I think back on those two bites, and I remembering having a full mouth, chewing and swallowing, and doing it all quickly. I don't remember tasting it.
Which is a shame. Because this was the kind of cake that was meant to be savored. You get a bite on your fork, making sure you have just the right proportions of frosting and cake, and put it in your mouth, making one of those "Mmmm" sounds heard countless times on The Food Network each day. And maybe your eyes even roll back into your head as you savor the moist vanilla-ness of the cake and the creamy mouth feel of the frosting. It was baked to be a cake. It was not baked to be a sedative.
As I drove, I found myself at a busy road, which I took to be a good sign. I turned in a direction I thought would lead me toward something familiar. As it turned out, I ended up right back at the event center. Not wanting to take another chance at getting lost, I parked and headed back inside to ask for directions. Before I got to the door, three people came out, a husband and wife, and another woman. I told them my dilemma, and one lady told me the way to go, then the other lady asked her husband if I could just follow them and they'd show me where to turn to get onto the highway, mentioning that if she was in my situation, she'd be a bit scared, too. I was so utterly grateful for these kind people, and they got me exactly where I needed to be.
I waved to them as I turned onto the road that took me to the on-ramp for the highway and said a prayer of blessing for them. As I headed home, I felt myself begin to relax. I hadn't realized exactly how nervous I had been until I got back into my car to follow my lifesavers and realized I had been shivering, not from a chill, but from nerves.
Along with the steadying of those nerves, I also felt full. I could feel the heaviness of the cake in my stomach, and I felt so bummed that I had eaten it that way. I wished I had simply enjoyed it, at a table, with a fork, while I was feeling good and happy.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The last day ... part 82
The first of the month, any month, has been more often than not a day I would start a diet. Therefore, the day before would become the "last day." The last day I would eat sugar. The last day I would eat fried foods. The last day I would indulge. The last day I would eat carbs.
The fact that tomorrow (well, today, technically, since it's after midnight as I'm writing this) is May 1st was not lost on me today as I grocery shopped. I've been following - excuse me, trying to follow Atkins, since I've always just felt better when I avoided flour. But, as is usually the case, as soon as I cut something out, I want it the most. I actually did very well for about a week. Lots of veggies, yummy meats and cheeses, eggs for breakfast most days. Then, the groceries got low, and my food choices were limited. I got home one night and I was pretty hungry having eaten pretty light all day. I can't remember what I made for dinner that night, but I do remember it included sweet yeast rolls. Yum. And because I was pretty hungry and my defenses were down, I ended up eating one. And so began my rationalization period.
This is the time when I change my mind about how I'm going to eat several times during a day. I'll begin the day so strong. "I'm going to do this. I want to lose weight." And I vow to follow my eating plan. By midday, I'm wavering, but I only slip up a little. By dinner, I'm irritated that I have to follow any kind of eating plan and annoyed at the injustice of it all. After the kids go to bed, I'm scarfing down a big bowl of sugary cereal or ice cream or eating cookies or whatever. I go to bed disappointed in myself, yet certain I'll do better the next day. I consider modifying my initial eating plan, making it a bit less strict. And so it goes.
This afternoon, I bought Lofthouse sugar cookies. Heaven in the form of flour and sugar. Why would someone trying to follow Atkins's two-week Induction buy Lofthouse sugar cookies? Because this has become another "last day."
I've told myself I'm going to start over. I had been following my progress (or lack thereof) on fatsecret.com, even going so far as to join an Induction challenge. I've failed miserably. But, tomorrow's the first, so I can simply erase the past and start again.
AND it's a double whammy. A first of the month AND a Sunday. I mean, c'mon; you start a diet on a Sunday that's also the first of the month, that's serious.
The fact that tomorrow (well, today, technically, since it's after midnight as I'm writing this) is May 1st was not lost on me today as I grocery shopped. I've been following - excuse me, trying to follow Atkins, since I've always just felt better when I avoided flour. But, as is usually the case, as soon as I cut something out, I want it the most. I actually did very well for about a week. Lots of veggies, yummy meats and cheeses, eggs for breakfast most days. Then, the groceries got low, and my food choices were limited. I got home one night and I was pretty hungry having eaten pretty light all day. I can't remember what I made for dinner that night, but I do remember it included sweet yeast rolls. Yum. And because I was pretty hungry and my defenses were down, I ended up eating one. And so began my rationalization period.
This is the time when I change my mind about how I'm going to eat several times during a day. I'll begin the day so strong. "I'm going to do this. I want to lose weight." And I vow to follow my eating plan. By midday, I'm wavering, but I only slip up a little. By dinner, I'm irritated that I have to follow any kind of eating plan and annoyed at the injustice of it all. After the kids go to bed, I'm scarfing down a big bowl of sugary cereal or ice cream or eating cookies or whatever. I go to bed disappointed in myself, yet certain I'll do better the next day. I consider modifying my initial eating plan, making it a bit less strict. And so it goes.
This afternoon, I bought Lofthouse sugar cookies. Heaven in the form of flour and sugar. Why would someone trying to follow Atkins's two-week Induction buy Lofthouse sugar cookies? Because this has become another "last day."
I've told myself I'm going to start over. I had been following my progress (or lack thereof) on fatsecret.com, even going so far as to join an Induction challenge. I've failed miserably. But, tomorrow's the first, so I can simply erase the past and start again.
AND it's a double whammy. A first of the month AND a Sunday. I mean, c'mon; you start a diet on a Sunday that's also the first of the month, that's serious.
Friday, April 29, 2011
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.
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.
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