Adios, Fatty!

I know, I know, I go a month without posting then two posts in one day? Well, it happens. After a month of dealing with demons and keeping my mouth shut, I've got a lot to say. Also, I've got... news.

Today, I was looking up prices for local gym memberships and I stumbled onto the LA Fitness website (not for the first time) and I noted that they still did not have their prices listed. Unlike that one other time before, I didn't just shrug and go on. I called them and asked for the price. The woman I spoke with, Karen, told me that their usual prices range from $30-40 a month and asked me if I'd like to come in to check the place out. I could've stopped her then and said no. Instead, we arranged a time for me to meet with her tomorrow at 10 a.m. Then Karen asked if there were anyway I could make it in to speak with her TODAY as their nationwide promotion was ending and there's no way for them to extend the deals (which, at the time, I had no idea what the "deal" even was) but I agreed. I arranged to meet with her at 6:30 p.m.

I could have not gone. I could have called and cancelled. I could have driven by without stopping in. I could have gone in, looked around, and walked right out. I could have left without a membership. I could have done a lot of things, but instead... I got ready, I drove over, I went in, I talked with Karen, I toured the amazing facility, I got my questions answered, I got a membership, I received a free "goody bag" with a bunch of good stuff in it, and I have a free one-hour appointment with someone tomorrow morning at 9:30 to help me get started on the right track.

As Karen said, something I'd already told myself about 50 times before I left to go to the gym, is that GOING IN that first time is the hardest step. I went in. I did it.

I even got a GREAT deal on my intial membership: even though there's no contract and it's a month-by-month payment, there is still an initial registration fee, which varies depending upon the plan you choose to get. If you pay a higher registration fee, you get a lower monthly payment, and vice versa. I chose the middle (of three) plans, which ordinarily has a $249 registration fee with a $39.99 per month membership. As they had a promotion going I got the $249 fee WAIVED! I did have to pay for the first and last months membership, which means that I received two months of gym membership today for $85.

What's really great is they have a LAP POOL with 4 lanes in it and no children are allowed to be in the pool so I don't have to worry about interrupted swim time, and though I didn't tell Karen this, that's what all but sold me on the whole deal. Plus, even though it was quite busy given that it's their last day of the promotion and was during their "peak hours" they had PLENTY of machines available for use. Additionally, they have unlimited free classes that you can just walk in and participate in without signing up -- ever! That, considering my random work hours, is just what I need to feel like I can hop in at any time. I even got 12 2-week guest passes for people -- I just wrote down 12 names even though, at most, I'll probably only get one or two people to go with me. Oh well! 

Here's the bad news: I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to pay for it. It's about $40 a month, which I can swing with my paychecks or... by donating plasma (LOL!). If I absolutely cannot pay then I guess I won't be going, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. The thing is... I asked my mom earlier this week for gas money (she's back home in NW Ohio) and she put $100 in my account. I only spent about $50 of it (all of which hasn't gone through yet, because it takes a while for debit card transactions at gas stations to show up) so I had enough to pay the $85 at LA Fitness tonight, the problem though is that if the debit card transaction AND the gas payment go through tomorrow I'll be overdrawn by $40. To which the bank will charge me an additional $35. I have to ask my mom for $40 more, on top of the $100, until Friday (my first paycheck, hence why I've had no money to pay for gas, etc.) because if I hadn't purchased it today I would've had to pay a registration fee of $249...

I've been hounding my mom to get me a gym membership for 6 months now (well, initially I said for both of us, but she didn't seem to want to so I asked if I could) and she wouldn't have any part of it. At least, she wasn't interested until she went and signed herself up for a gym at her work that only employees can use. Thanks, a lot.

This "bad news" is more frustrating/annoying than anything because I didn't want to tell anyone (ESPECIALLY my mom) about joining a gym, but now I have to or she won't give me the $40. She might not anyway because I bought something I couldn't afford which is "irresponsible" and I owe her so much anyway. I will pay her back the $40 on Friday though, I'll have the money then... ugh. I hate feeling so dependent. This is something I wanted to do FOR ME, to take charge of my life and get on the right track, without feeling obligated to keep anyone abreast of the situation, without feeling people watch me to see how "well" I'd do and/or how hugely I failed. My mom isn't exactly the most positive support system when it comes to my body image... but I don't want to talk about that right now.

Overall, this is a GOOD moment, this is an EMPOWERING moment, this is a BATTLE WON in what has been and will be a life-long war. I want to -- and I am going to -- CELEBRATE by myself, for myself, because of what I did myself.

- - - - - 

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

[Eleanor Roosevelt]

The Art of Humiliation

As a preface I'm not "avoiding" my last post, I'm just taking my sweet time getting to a point when I can discuss any/all that was dredged up as a result/precursor to my most recent update. In the meantime, I've got a few thoughts to share.

I've finally begun my "new job" at a home improvement store and because of their dress-code I found myself in need of some new clothing. More to the point, I need new clothes because the only things that fit me are stretchy "athletic-wear" types of clothing, which are strictly prohibited. I can squeeze into a few pairs of pants, but they aren't exactly comfortable and they don't allow for the best movement and I need to be able to move as I'm a cashier. Ordinarily a cashier might be just a "standing" position, but for this job it's definitely not (and I'm glad!) so I need appropriate clothing.

Polo shirts and khakis seemed like the best bet and would suit me for many uses beyond "work clothes" as they are basic enough to be worn in a variety of settings. When I first started my job, my mom and I went to a Meijer (like a smaller-scale Wal-Mart) to pick up some basics that would not break the bank. I had no pretenses, I went to the plus-sized department and got some size 18, size 20, and size 22 pants; I also picked up a few shirts that were XXL, which usually are a bit loose on me or fit "just right," in my opinion.

I walked into the dressing room, feeling rather indifferent, and then I realized I couldn't get ANY of the pants to even begin to go over my lower hips/thighs... when I squeezed into one of the XXL shirts (I'd gotten the same shirt in multiple colors) it literally fit me like a medium and looked horrible. I don't know how I managed to fit into it, though I did have a heck of a time getting out of it. Needless to say, nothing came close to working so I walked out and the girl at the main counter for the dressing rooms said, "I can take anything that you don't want or that doesn't fit" and I handed her EVERYTHING. She looked a bit startled and then said, "Oh, one of those days, huh?" Yeah... Don't get me wrong, even though she didn't strike me as a girl to have to worry about having "those days" very often I knew she didn't mean it in some snotty "Lose the weight, FATTY" way. In any case, it was still incredibly humiliating -- even my mom looked quite a bit crestfallen.

Let's be realistic, though, it's a no-brainer to say I've had plenty of days where I tried on things that didn't quite fit or looked terrible or wouldn't zip/button as they should, but that was one of the WORST experiences I've ever had in a dressing room. Not a single thing came close to fitting and I'd "aimed high" -- I might have expected snugness, but not that. I felt defeated and very, very fat.

The next weekend I spent the last of my money on two items from Target, a denim skirt (that I wear with leggings because I can't wear skirts without my legs rubbing together uncomfortably) and a pair of khaki-colored bottoms that fall somewhere between capris and Bermuda shorts. They fit, but I can't wear the skirt too often as it's a fairly memorable piece of clothing when worn as I have to wear it, and when I'm working 8 days in a row (as I did last week), wearing the same khaki shorts every day is not going to do. They're both size 22 and they go well with my Men's polo shirts that I'd gotten from Meijer (after the humiliating encounter with the Women's department).

I know I'm not the only woman to struggle with these issues and that's why I write this, because I know so many women -- regardless of whether they're an 8 or an 18 -- go into a store never knowing if they're going to leave feeling like a heifer or a hottie. Why do stores, manufacturers, designers, want us all to feel so horrible about ourselves? Why do they want to shame us? It's frustrating enough to actually be overweight and struggle with finding clothes, but it's even more frustrating to know that all these people WANT it to be a struggle, want me to feel shame, want me to dress like a dishrag...

When I was a teenager (probably 14 or 15) I was in a Wal-Mart with my mom, trying on some jeans, and I'd had to upgrade from the Juniors department to the Women's department. I'd tried on a few pairs of pants and one particular pair looked good -- my mom asked me what size they were and I said, completely serious, "18 Wide." She was confused for a second and then started laughing hysterically and I couldn't figure out why. She then explained that "18 W" meant Women's size 18, not 18 in Wide. Oops, classic mistake, but in my defense I figured it was like shoe sizes -- a 10 W is a 10 Wide! Besides, isn't that how the stores want us to feel? We're not women, we're wide.

I also remember the first time I went into Lane Bryant, it wasn't much after that 16 Wide moment and I remembering thinking it was QUITE a bit more expensive. We went in their because I needed something to wear to my grandpa's funeral and my mom had suggested it because she thought we might have better luck, which we needed as we were running low on time. We went in and the sales people were so nice -- they didn't make me feel inadequate or as though I shouldn't be shopping there -- though they did inform me that I was NOT a size 16 or size 18. At Lane Bryant... I was a size 14!!! Or, as they said, "the smallest size we carry!" It's as if they knew how defeated I felt, how as a teenage girl I struggled with feeling like the fat cow in a sea of lithe cheerleaders, and they did their best to make me feel okay about myself. For the first time in my life I felt the way a girl should feel when she walks into a store: good. beautiful. worthy.

Now, a size "22 Wide" at one store, I haven't felt that way in a long time and I know it's no sales associates fault, it's my own.

- - - - -

 "In order to change we must be sick and tired of being sick and tired."

[Author Unknown]

Feeding salt (and ice cream) into the open wounds.

This past week was the epitome of emotional awfulness. I hit rock-bottom, slammed upward from the momentum, only to come crashing back down onto the jagged rocks time and time again.

I had intended to sift through the muckity-muck, to clear out the skeletons in my closet, so that I could better understand the whys and hows of my life as it currently exists. I wanted to dive a bit deeper into issues that were arising as I wrote out my variety of emotions and questions, particularly those expressed here; I thought the experience would be, at most, a cathartic, soulful cleansing of sorts.

Instead of the joyful release that I expected to feel upon unleashing a decades worth of demons, I felt every heartbreak, every gut-stabbing moment of pain, every ounce of regret and guilt. Every moment of wrong was relived as I navigated myself through the maze of all the unhealthy relationships that I have witnessed and all the unhealthy relationships I've been a part of in my life.

One moment I'd be fine, the next I was sitting on the shower floor, water pouring down me, as I was choking out sobs and trying to wrap my mind around something I've been avoiding for so long. I'd be fine again, thinking I'm getting it all under control, then I'm in my car headed back to my apartment and a super-personal song comes on the radio that has me bawling and trying to wipe tears off my face as quickly as possible so I can see the road...

I was absolutely desperate to talk to someone about all the guilt, shame, bitterness, confusion, disgust, and just get RID of all the stuff that was being held like a fist full of bile in the back of my throat. I needed to get it out, to clean out my system, but there was no one. The things I needed to let out were so personal that I'd already reduced my potential "supporters" to people I really felt I could trust with such information. The person I most adamantly wanted to talk with was no where around and I don't have his phone number so I had no way of getting in contact with him... His sister was my next effort and she didn't respond to my text message.

My last potential vein of support was to talk with my best friend who I've not been able to talk with about anything personal in quite sometime because she's been so seemingly uninvolved and uninterested in anything that's not her husband or her child. It seemed kismet when she ended up calling me before I could call her, but then all she could talk about was how Steven Tyler was "such a sell-out" because he made a pop album and how he was her "idol" and now she has "no respect" for him because he's "not a 'rocker'" anymore and that a "part of [her] died" because of his being a sellout. She talked for 20 minutes about how this was such a huge disappointment, such a sad day, blah blah blah. Toward the end she picked up on my total lack of interest in the whole (completely stupid) conversation and mistook it for me being "tired."

Lost and alone, I thought I could get myself out of the demon-plagued mind-trap by writing it out here and, hopefully, get some sort of support that I'd been denied for too long last week. Well, wouldn't you know it, when I got online Blogger was down for maintenance and was in read-only mode or some such thing.

I had exhausted every possibility and had been left, as usually, entirely empty-handed. That's why I've always chosen food. That's why I "chose" food again. In the 48 hours my mom was back home in NW Ohio, I ate 6 "party pizzas," 5 large cinnamon rolls, two containers of Edy's ice cream (not the "double-churned" supposedly-healthier variety, either), finished off a container of Nutella, and ate a bunch of almonds for good measure.  I drowned myself in food and soda; in both the sweet and sugary and the salty and savory calories. I kept eating because at least when I was eating I could trick myself into thinking about the food and not the loneliness and the emptiness and the shame of it all. I had no one when I needed someone the most, NO ONE, but I had food.

Now, a few days later, the demons are lingering in a big way, the already stretchy-as-stretchy-can-be clothing are getting tighter, and I still haven't been able to talk to anyone so I just... keep eating. It doesn't seem like it should be this hard; I don't WANT it to be like this, but I'm so tired of facing nothing beyond loneliness and emptiness. Where do I turn when the only thing that's ever constant is food? I'm so mind-numbingly scared of what the future holds if this is the "prime of my life" and I'm this miserable and perpetually locked down by food because there's nobody around to throw me a helping hand to help me help myself pull away from it all.

What do I do? WHAT? I need help, I admit it, I'm ready for the next step, but I need help because I don't know what the next step is and I don't know how to face it alone -- I'm not even sure I can. I just need help.

- - - - -

"One of these days I'm going to love me and feel the joy of sweet release; one of these days I'll rise above me and at last I'll find some peace. Then I'm going to smile a little, and maybe even laugh a little, but one of these days I'm going to love me."

[Tim McGraw; "One of These Days"]

My big, fat, disgusting secret.

The reason I've been wanting a healthy relationship with food is because it is one of the most basic relationships. If I can't be healthy with food--with myself--how can I have healthy relationships with men? Doesn't seem very likely, does it? Of course, there may already be too much (irreparable?) damage done as a result of my unhealthy relationship with food. More to the point, I think my struggle(s) with food have been too well-documented by my body and such documentation is hard to erase. Ever heard the expression "Once it's on the Internet, you can never get it back"? I think the same is true for our bodies, in a sense; we can't undo the damage that's already there--it's permanent. This worries me a great deal because I think it's one of the biggest mental hurdles I've got to overcome.

Perhaps I'm "beating around the bush" too much... I guess what I'm saying all boils down to this... there are two scenarios I'm faced with:

1. Lose weight. Begin living a healthy lifestyle with nutritional foods and plenty of activities. Have a ton of excess skin, skin flab, and stretch-mark scars.
2. Stay fat. Live as I've been living, probably continue to gain weight, exercise if/when the mood strikes, continue to use food as my crutch. Have a giant stomach overhang, flabby arms, double-chin, stretchmarks (old and new), and zero flexibility to boot.

Catch the recurrence? The skin flab and stretchmarks? No matter what, I've got 'em. I'm stuck with a permanent reminder of my unhealthy weakness. I can almost, kind of, sort of, in a way, nearly deal with that, but what guy can?

My relationship with the opposite sex is screwy, at best, and I don't think "stretchmarks" will help it any. My relationship with guys can be broken up into two categories as well:

1. The very select guys who enjoy talking with me, getting to know me, and "get me" -- to some extent. These guys have zero interest in a relationship with me that stems beyond (pseudo-) friendship and they definitely have NO sexual interest in me.
2. The guys who --drunk, or possibly not-- would sleep with me. These guys want no part of a serious relationship with me, they do not want to get to know me (or have and don't like me over-much), and they really just want sex--with anyone--and they would be willing to "settle" for me: the closest available hole to drill.

Yeah. I'm obviously still a virgin because a) there aren't that many guys in groups 1 and 2. b) my standards are a tad high.

Everyone gives me flack for being an inexperienced 23-year-old virgin--especially because I'm such a horny one, LOL--but the truth is I would totally have sex with someone today if he were a good combination of 1 and 2. Someone who likes me, wants to get to know me, wants to have sex with me, and (crazily) thinks I'm attractive. ...but who is EVER going to find me attractive, particularly in the nude? It's here I refer back to "stretchmarks" and "flab." Mmm... oh, yeah, baby... so. damn. sexy.

Yep, I can already see my dream man holding his mouth shut and running to the bathroom. Score.

- - - - -

Basically, to sum up, me in the nude is NOT a pretty picture -- regardless of my weight at time of said-nudity. The big "What if?" for me, because ultimately I DO want to lose the weight, is what if I lose all the weight to find out I'm still unattractive/unsexy and there's STILL no one who wants to be in a relationship with me? What if it's NOT the weight that has scared guys off -- what if it's just ME? Then what will I say? What will I use to "comfort" myself? I won't be able to say, "Well, I'm alone because I'm fat and people (GUYS) are just afraid to give me a chance, afraid to get to know the real me!" ...what then?

That would, I think, be the worst kind of revelation, the worst kind of rejection. How will I recover from that? 3000 to 1, I'd start eating myself sick to ease the loneliness, the hurt, the confusion. Eat my way back to the "me" I've grown so accustomed to sharing a disgusting body with for the past decade. I want so badly for it to not be like that...

- - - - -

This post, this whole blog, was inspired by a PostSecret I found while stumbling around on the web one day. I sat at my computer and, upon seeing the "secret," felt like someone had shot my right between the eyes (or, to be more accurate, the middle of my heart). It is as much my horrible secret as it is the secret of the submitter, but I don't want it to be my secret anymore.

 

- - - - -

"My hearts at a low, I'm so much to manage; I think you should know that I've been damaged."

[TLC; "Damaged"]

There's an app(etizer) for that!

My name is Alana and I'm an emotional eater, I'm a social eater, I'm a situational eater, and I eat for pleasure. I eat when I'm angry, when I'm sad, when I'm alone, when I'm lonely, and when I just need to sink my teeth into something delicious. Sure, I do eat when I'm hungry, like most everyone does, but unlike everyone else I rarely stop there and that's why it has become a problem.

I say this not only to parallel other addictions that people quite readily recognize, but also because I had a bad slip up last weekend that was nothing if not an emotional outlet through the use of food. I realize it's probably not that big of a deal (who didn't eat a bit too much last weekend?), but I was mind-reeling over so many other things and it felt like such a huge slight that no one in my family had told me they were having an Easter get-together (my dad didn't even call to wish me a "Happy Easter"). Thus it became another moment when food was there for me when I couldn't call anyone or talk to anyone.

For every kind of situation, whether happiness or hurt or frustration, I have a food that helps keep me company somehow and that's fairly constant. I think the only thing I crave more than food is a constant good, healthy relationship. Food is what seems to help me more than people because it's always there -- I don't have to hope and pray that it won't be too busy for me, too rushed, not paying attention, not listening, not caring. I don't have to stare at my phone for 25 minutes, scrolling through my list of contacts, wondering who would actually answer and care to hear about my ridiculous mental meltdown(s), only to come down to ... no one.

When I choose to eat, there's always something for me to commiserate with, to cry into, to snarl at, or even to celebrate the silly little things that no one else cares about celebrating. And, let's face it, there's a reason it's called "comfort food." When I reach the bottom of the bucket, the bag, the pan, I can always make more or find something to fill the "new" void; however, if I call someone and they can't talk or don't answer, there's not a bottomless list of possibilities. Food doesn't reject me, if anything I'm the one who gets to reject food.

That's how I assert control in my uncontrollable life and... it's totally wrong. I know that, but just because I KNOW that doesn't mean I can snap my fingers and tell myself to let go of the one thing I feel like I get a say in these days. If I do that, what then? To suddenly stop letting food be the comfort, the crutch, the one I call, I have to have something else to funnel myself onto because I know I am not in a position (mentally/physically/geographically) to just let it all go. In saying that, I do realize that I'm no longer in control of what I eat -- it's in control of me -- but I've known that this whole time I've been writing here or otherwise I wouldn't be writing here.

It's here I am starting to understand that I am scared out of my mind because food is the only thing that I let fill the emptiness inside me and it's coming nowhere close to doing what I'd thought it would and that's why I keep eating and eating and eating. Even though it doesn't "fill the emptiness" in all the ways I wish it would, it comes closer than anything (read: anyone) else. This is my fault, I know, because I'm too afraid to let anyone in right now. I feel like I should be "full" and whole and complete on my own before I ask someone to be a part of my life, otherwise I'll be trading my fixation with food for what could only ever be a short-term (unhealthy, obsessive, needy/clingy, messed up) "relationship" that would undoubtedly leave me emptier than before...

- - - - -

Right now, on the verge of major tears, I feel so hollow in the worst of ways. I want to eat to take my mind off it, but I also just want to cry and curl away into some other place and time.

I need an overly-long hug from a calories-not-included friend and a solid shoulder to cry on.

- - - - -

"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that he didn't trust me so much."

[Mother Teresa]

I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand.

Often times double-standards are equated with issues between the sexes, but I think an ever-growing double-standard in American society (perhaps elsewhere, though I cannot speak on behalf of "elsewhere") is that being being extremely overweight is much more offensive than being extremely underweight. It's not really limited to the actual weight, though, it's more the disorders that generally lead to such results. 

Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia Nervosa, for example, are not only much more recognized in our country as significant health problems, but there is a much greater understanding that they can be helped through the combination/integration of therapy, nutrition education, and sometimes even medication. They are not simply physical problems, they are psychological problems as well. Binge-eating disorder, or any of a variety of complications or scenarios that lead to weight gain, are scoffed at by so many people because there seems to be some underlying belief that overweight people have no self-respect, no control, and no real reason for being overweight. Is that to say that underweight people do have self-respect, control, and a real reason to be dangerously skinny? I think not.

In terms of "getting help," most overweight people are simply told to go to the gym and workout, but as I've said in previous posts, that's like looking at a person afflicted with Anorexia Nervosa and suggesting s/he "go eat something." Or, in yet another phrasing, it's akin to putting a Band-Aid over a bullet wound: if only the treatment really were so superficial and simple.

When people are recognized, or perceived as having an eating disorder that has caused them to lose a significant amount of weight, it seems more people are inclined to want to help in a positive, constructive way. When a person with Anorexia Nervosa or Bulimia Nervosa is partaking in destructive behavior (such as purging, refusing to eat, etc.) others jump in to help them, but when an overweight binge-eater is shoving pizzas and ice cream down her throat rude comments are made -- if anything at all. Binge-eating might just seem to be something that overweight people do, but that's not true. Not all overweight people binge-eat.

The fact is that people are overweight for a variety of reasons: lack of exercise, poor diet, health conditions, etc. Or even a combination of several factors, but not necessarily because they binge-eat and/or don't exercise; additionally, plenty of people are still clinically overweight, but they exercise a great deal. I say this to illustrate the diversity within a subculture that is more often than not boiled down to one unflattering stereotype, a stereotype that makes it incredibly challenging for people to seek out help from others or for others to feel comfortable with helping. 

Despite the growing epidemic that is obesity, people do not feel as inclined to help on a personal level. Instead, obesity and binge-eating are treated as physical results attributed to poor diet and laziness with little concern shown for the person beneath the layers of excess weight.

This is one reason I am simultaneously angry and defeated -- I want to be healthy, not necessarily "skinny,"  but how can I get there when instead of being seen as a person struggling on the inside, I'm categorized as a lazy heifer. That's incredibly unfair and hurtful; I wish someone could understand that, for me, I really don't believe the biggest issue is learning to eat healthy or making time to exercise. 

My biggest issue is how to get past all the voices in my head that tell me I don't deserve to treat my body like a temple, that I will never be beautiful enough regardless of my weight, that I am not worth all that time and effort required to be healthy. For that reason, I've got to get control of my mind before I can get control of my body, but I'm too ashamed to ask for help in that arena because a) fat girl with low self-esteem is so cliché these days and b) who can really understand the whys and hows of needing to work from the inside out? The general theory is that if I look good, I'll feel good, but that sounds more like a direct path to failure for me.

I guess I don't understand how people can look at Girl A and Girl B (pictured below), yet only be willing to take the extra time to talk to Girl A to help her appreciate herself and see how beautiful/worthwhile she is and always will be whereas Girl B just needs to go to the gym and she might be attractive or at least be skinnier. I think it's hard for people to imagine just how much shame both girls would have to overcome before getting on to a truly healthier way of living, but shame is hard to overcome alone. Trust me, I know.

Girl A:

Girl B:

After all this, my biggest question is this: why can't we all give and get a bit more compassion? I believe there are enough helping hands to help us all, it just may require that some people open their minds a bit more -- their hearts, too.

- - - - -

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, 'I'll try again tomorrow.'"
[Mary Anne Radmacher]

This is some heavy stuff!

A goal I have for myself is to look in the mirror, look into my own eyes, and not feel completely ashamed or begin berating myself for any of a slew of self-ascribed inadequacies. Some days I can do this much more easily than others, but it takes quite a bit of coaching. It's a gratifying moment, though, when I close my eyes and open them again to see a small semi-confident smile on my face.

Despite this goal and the effort I've taken to get there, part of me believes it isn't right for me to be as confident as I have been in days past, while another part of me suspects (or knows?) that it's mostly false bravado. I'm not entirely sure that I've gotten more confident because I think I've just become a better actress -- go figure!

The reason I mention this is because earlier this week I, quite fittingly, stumbled upon a new show featured on A&E, "Heavy," and I admit that in the beginning I was interested only very superficially, but the more I watched the more I realized that every word these people were saying about themselves and their Food Relationships completely fit how I felt. Sure, I don't weigh 400 pounds, but they weren't always so heavy, either. It has to start somewhere and I really think that this could be the "somewhere" for me if something doesn't change soon.

It also caught my attention when, in the second episode, a younger girl (26 years old -- just two-and-a-half years older than I am) was on the show and I could see myself standing in her shoes given a couple of years. She talked about how she acts more confident and upbeat than she really feels so that people won't see her "weakness." She also has an alcohol problem and I know I don't have an alcohol problem (not to the degree she does, anyway), but it doesn't seem to be a coincidence that in the past 3 months I've drank more than I ever have in my entire life...

Two other things really caught my attention about this show: the "enablers" and the people who spot the problem. My life is full of the "enablers," or, as I call them, my family. My family is almost entirely overweight and/or obese people, especially on my dad's side. When our family gets together it's very food-centric and it's incredibly obvious why we all have weight problems! The fact that I'm overweight, then, is not seen as anything out of the ordinary and so no one in my family is going to sit me down and say, "Alana, we've noticed that your eating has gotten out of hand and we'd like to help you get back on track to a healthier lifestyle." In order for THAT to happen they'd have to get their own lives back on track and I just don't see that happening for them because they are so acceptant of it. Overweight is just... how we are, apparently.

Except... it's not how I want to be. I want to be strong enough to resist the temptation my "enablers" throw in front of me holiday after holiday. The thing is, I also want someone to say, "Alana, we've noticed that your eating has gotten out of hand and we'd like to help you get back on track to a healthier lifestyle." I need someone to support me, to notice the fact that I've gained 25 pounds in less than year, to care enough about me to step in and help me navigate through all this "stuff." I don't need someone to say, "Why don't you just go to the gym and lose the weight?" because that's literally like telling someone who is anorexic, "Hey, why don't you just eat something and get over it?" It's a lot more complicated than that in so many ways.

Yes, going to the gym would be a huge step in the right direction, but I am so scared to take that step alone because in the past when I've taken that step alone I failed. I cannot fail again. It's also not the only step that needs to be taken and I need someone to keep me motivated, optimistic, and on the right path. I need someone who truly understands how complicated and deeply-driven these problems are for me, someone who will talk with me without being disgusted and/or appalled when or if I lapse into another binge.

I'm not sure that I have that support though, which is another reason why I'm here. It looks as though I have to be my own support system for a while, or at least until I get away from the "enablers" and find someone who doesn't scoff at obesity or belittle my problem(s) with food. Of course, in order to find that person who will support me, I've got to be willing to share all this with people, but this is just about the most humiliating kind of (heart-breaking, soul-crushing) problem to have to share with anyone and, let's be honest, no one likes to see fat people cry...

- - - - -

"It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you're not."

[Author Unknown]

When it's time to find something that fits, somedays are better than others.

A few weeks ago I was sitting by myself in the one bedroom apartment I share with my mother and I mentally cataloged all the foodstuffs I had ingested in my time alone. My roommate (re: mother) was in NW Ohio for the better part of the week and it occurred to me that my eating habits had spiral-rocketed out of control.

As I thought back on all that I had eaten, I became more and more upset--not only about what I was eating, but also because I began thinking of the reasons I had eaten in the first place. This is one of my primary problems: I don't just eat when I'm hungry, I eat to fill voids, ease frustrations, and soothe hurts. When I sit down and think about all the food I've stuffed into myself, I can't avoid the reasons I found to do said "stuffing," and of course that leads me down that same path again--only now with the added angst of realizing that I'm shoving calories down my throat faster than a hurricane uproots a palm tree.

The night I hit my breaking point was my last night "alone" for that week. I'd went to the store with ten dollars (ten dollars that I very much did not have to spare) and I bought all the high-calorie goodness I could manage. I left the store with two Totino's Party Pizzas, one (40-count) bag of generic pizza rolls, and a quart of Homemade Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream. I'd purchased all these items and returned home by 9:30 P.M. and I ate the two party pizzas and half the ice cream that night, by 2:30 in the morning. The next day I woke up, ate the pizza rolls, and finished off the ice cream. In less than 24 hours I'd eaten that much food and I wasn't so much "ashamed" as I was conscious of the fact that I should have felt ashamed.

Actually, I did feel a bit of shame when I ate the second pizza when I was already full from the first and then went on to eat the half quart of ice cream. What really set me off in the "shame" department is the fact that the pizza rolls were absolutely disgusting; they had a terrible flavor and the texture was mealy, and even though I had told myself at several points that they were the worst things I'd ever put in my mouth, I ate every. single. one.

Though that night was a low point (or a turning point?) it was not an isolated incident by any stretch of the imagination. In the past few months I've had so many moments of inhaling a high volume of food in a short amount of time. The bright side is that the "low point" prompted me to do a little search on disordered eating, and what I found seems to fit. According to the information provided by the Mayo Clinic, I've got a very clear-cut case of a Binge-Eating Disorder. I say "clear-cut" because it all fits. The depression, the anxiety, the eating alone, the secrecy of what/why/how I eat, and all the thoughts and worries I have "post-binge."

I'm here though, to sort through all that because it's not enough just to say "This is my problem." I still need to figure out the whys and hows of it so that I can fix the way I think about food; I want to understand this so that I can, someday in the future, be truly better. I just have to take it one step at a time and I'll get where I'm going, eventually.

- - - - -

[Katy Perry: "Firework"]

So, this is where it all begins?

This is a last-ditch effort to save myself from... myself. My current lot in life has me struggling with many issues, not that this is different from what anyone else is going through, but I've realized that my coping mechanism is no longer helping me to cope.

My way of coping with the day-to-day stressors, heartbreaks, confusions, and anxiety-inducing moments is to burrow deep into the always-welcoming arms of food.

Food is, and always has been, very welcome in my life -- whether in moments of actual hunger or not. The problem, though, is that food has become something more than a way to keep me alive and well, it has become more than the "occasional" indulgence in delicious decadence, it has become more than just three healthful meals a day. 

As of late, food has become my crutch, my weakness, my ever-present enemy, and it has held me at such a low point for too long. Recognizing this decline in my relationship with food, I knew I needed to take action.

Yes, I am significantly overweight, but this is not about a "diet." I am not starting this blog so that I can drop the 80 pounds and be "skinny," instead I am starting this blog so I can break through the psychological (for lack of a better word) side of my eating habits. Or, in other words, why is my relationship with food what it is and how can I change that? After I'm able to answer those questions, and feel good about the answers, then--and only then--can I work on long-lasting, sustainable physical changes and results.

If I don't allow myself the opportunity to work through the interior "stuff" then working on the exterior will only put me in a position to fail. If I don't understand the whys and hows of my Food Relationship then I'm infinitely more likely to undo any positive results by falling back into my old habits.

So, this is where I'm starting, but with a lot of hard work, a bunch of persistence, and a hearty dose of dedication this is not where I'll be ending.

- - - - -

"Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend."

[Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat Pray Love]