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...

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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.

 

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"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.

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"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]

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]