Diets

When I was in high school, I read about drinking club soda with a squeeze of lime whenever you felt hungry as an easy weight-loss tool. When I wanted to lose a few pounds so I would fit more easily in my prom dress, I drank that club soda and ate sliced vegetables for lunch. The weight came off easily and I felt victorious. 

I weighed somewhere around 125 lbs. when I graduated high school. Tall and slim, I should have been proud and comfortable in my body, but I wasn’t. I had--have--a very large bosom and was embarrassed by it and tried everything I could to hide it. 

During college, I began to gain weight as I discovered drinking and late-night eating at the restaurant where I worked. I was 140 lbs. when I started graduate school and 155 lbs. when I got married.

When I became pregnant with my daughter, I was so excited at the prospect of being allowed to eat anything and everything I wanted that I gained a staggering 74 lbs. I was 161 lbs. when I got pregnant and 235 lbs. on the day my daughter was born. 

Today, I’m 174 lbs. My problem with my weight is related to self-esteem, deeply-seated shame, and a binge-eating habit. I don’t, thankfully, have any serious health problems directly related to my weight in the traditional sense: my blood pressure is fine and so is my cholesterol. Doctors have told me that losing 20 pounds would be good for me, but there has never been any pressure. No one has ever given me any stern warnings...

But I have a bad back, and I know that losing weight would help ease the pain I deal with on a daily basis. I have a very small frame and I know that I should be at least 30 pounds lighter than I am now—if not 40.

If the physical damage caused has been ostensibly minimal, the psychological damage created by my relationship with food, weight, and my body is incalculable.

I’ve done nothing but obsess about my weight and diet (and lose weight and gain it—and more—back) since I was 24. I did the Scarsdale Diet. Weight Watchers (at least five different times). South Beach. The Zone. Some diet where you eat 1/2 cup of vanilla ice cream with lunch and dinner. Atkins. Dr. Phil’s Ultimate Weight Solution. Dr. Oz’s You on a Diet. 21-Day Sugar Detox. Paleo. Whole 30. Keto.  

There are more, I’m sure, but I can’t remember them. I don’t want to remember them. Every diet has worked until I gave up on it, gained all the weight back, and a few more pounds. 

And that leads me to where I am today: completely and totally lost. I don’t like the body I live in because it is the body of born of punishment, neglect, excuses, and justifications. It is a body that goes through intensive ups and downs: extremely restrictive diets like the Whole 30 followed by 30 days of non-stop junk food consumption.

I want to eat healthfully, but I’ve gotten to a place where I can’t even figure out what to do anymore. I’ve ended up here because of years and years of yo-yo dieting and never really taking the time to figure out how to best feed and nourish me, which leads me back to the point of this blog: trying to find Judy.

My relationship with food, my weight, and my body is the biggest and most frightening part of this whole journey. For my entire adult life, I’ve wanted to be at a weight that felt reasonable and healthy and I’ve sabotaged myself at every turn. And the result is me here today: tired and sad. Confused. Unable to follow through on taking care of myself because I don’t know myself well enough to know what to do to provide that care.  

I’m ready to start, even though I don’t really know how or where. The only thing I know for sure is that diets don’t work for me. A lifetime of doing what other people tell me to do (or rebelling against what others tell me to do) has led me here. 

I believe that figuring out how to eat, how to lose weight, and how to take care (true, real actual care) of my body will help lead me to me.