I Didn't Ask You

My mother always told me "Diet quiet."  In other words, other people don't need to know your business, your struggles, your personal stuff.  And in the roller coaster decades of intermittent stabs at trying to lose weight, I think I was mostly quiet about it.  Maybe not within my family ... but pretty much everywhere else.

This time it's been a bit different.  I guess because the change was dramatic--at least at first.  Finding myself again was sort of amazing to me.  After so many false starts to finally experience success was so  ... liberating, energizing, inspiring and exciting.  At first everyone was supportive.  Those who hadn't seen me for a while were visibly surprised.  My favorite reactions were when people actually didn't recognize me.  That happened a bunch of times.  One night when I was working at church, a family I'd known well when I worked there full time was leaving their kids with me.  I was chatting away normally and finally the mom said to me "I'm sorry.  Should I know you?"  Me: "It's me -- Katherine."  Oh gosh.  She was sort of embarrassed.  She needn't have been.  It was a good moment for me.

Dinner tonight on Weight Watchers app.
(Olives are my favorite!)

So at first there was support and surprise.  Then came the questions.  "How much have you lost?" was, of course, the lead-off question followed by "How did you do it."  I answered them both.  The answer to the first one changed by the week as the number grew and grew--the number of pounds lost that is.  The answer to the second was always the same:  Weight Watchers, walking and music.  

I used Weight Watchers online and the Weight Watchers app only.  No meetings for me this time around.  That whole group thing really used to make me uncomfortable.  I only ever had one group leader that I could relate to.  The others were not very interesting or motivational.  I sat through a lot of them over the years.  But working the program for myself was my way to success this time around.  I journaled and weighed and measured every mouthful.  I was accountable.  To myself.  I weighed myself everyday (a Weight Watchers no-no--they want you to weigh only once a week).  Weighing myself every day kept me on track.  It kept me from straying.  Boy, I was so strong the first 15 months or so.  It was an almost steady decline.

The walking provided immediate results too.  It wasn't long before the diabetes basically disappeared.  I could walk longer and farther every week.  It also wasn't long before I started to crave the walks.  I know this isn't unique.  People get addicted to exercise and I think I was.  As often as possible I walked 3-5 miles in the morning and 4-8 miles at night.  A 7-mile walk felt perfect to me.  I exercised more and needed less food.  It was a revelation.  Or a revolution.  My own personal revolution.  

Another important aspect of the walks was the peace it gave me.  Sunrises and sunsets, my river and the lakes in my town, the spring, the pond ... I love them all and they give me endless lovely vistas to capture with my camera and my imagination.  I've put up with dogs, a cat that used to follow me, two skunks, and warnings of a bear ahead several times (though I never saw him).  There have been birds, ducks, geese, swans, dragonflies, frogs, a beaver and deer.  The walks are a blessing and I'm so grateful I gave myself the gift of time to do them.

The music was a huge factor.  Listening to Gavin DeGraw and the other musicians I discovered as a result of having discovered him allowed me to find the space in my head to sort through all sorts of thoughts and doubts that had been pestering me for decades.  If you've read this space once or twice before you already know that this music is very special to me and I mean it when I say it changed my life.  The live music adventures that ensued provided so much fuel for the journey.

After the questions came the comments:

"You've lost enough now."  Really?  I don't remember asking you.

"You're fine the way you are." Really?  Shouldn't I be the one who determines that?

"You can eat that [cake, cookie, burger]."  Really?  I know that.  I can eat whatever I want.  But I'm choosing not to eat that [cake, cookie, burger].

I didn't ask you.  I know you mean well.  I know you think I "need a treat."  Believe me, I treat myself--a little too often lately, actually.  From August through January my friendly scale went for a roller coaster ride and there were far more ups than downs.  I'm not sure why although the beginning of this latest ride was a bit of a professional crisis that propelled me smack into my old habits of self-medicating with food.  I think I'm back on track now.  

"You were getting too thin anyway."  Really?  This latest comment has been coming my way often these days.  People ask how the eating plan is going so I answer pretty honestly.  "I've put a few back on."  

"That's okay; you were getting too thin anyway."

I didn't ask you to weigh in on my weight.  I've politely answered all the questions.  I've been encouraging to those who share their struggles with me.  I've shared the tricks that worked for me.  My journey hasn't been a secret.  I mean ... there I was: big. Here I am: smaller.  It's noticeable.  I can't deny there was stuff going on.  

I don't mind the questions.  Ask away.  I'll talk to you forever about the struggle that has occupied the last twenty or more years of my life.  I know many people also struggle with a few or a bunch of extra pounds.  I don't mind talking about the ups and downs of the weight loss process.

But I didn't ask for your opinion about my body nor about what does or doesn't go into it.  I know you think I'm "all better now."  The truth is that a lot of the stuff that caused me to eat in the first place is alive and well in my head, just waiting for me to have a weak moment.  When you say I was getting too thin, it's like telling me I don't know what's good for me.  That I'm not capable of deciding for myself.  It's not an encouraging thing to say.  

It's a daily, hourly struggle.  To find other means of dealing with feelings, doubts, highs, lows other than with food.  It's a struggle to plan healthy meals and much easier to drive through somewhere (anywhere) for dinner.  It's not easy to walk by the concession stand in theaters, to not have a glass of wine with dinner.  For me, it's really hard to like broccoli.  (Raw, okay; cooked, please, no.)  I may never be out of the woods with this thing.  It will probably challenge me every day for ever.

But it's my body, my issues, my baggage and my decision (to eat or not, exercise or not).  I own it all--the successes and the setbacks.  I get to say what the goal is and when I've reached it.  I say when.  I say how much.  Ask me questions.  Let's compare notes.  But, please, no comments.  

PS ~ I'm still Weight Watcher-ing, walking and listening to music (lots of music and sometimes dancing) every day.

~~~~~

This song has meant a lot to me on this journey.  I was here, sitting next to the person who filmed this.  And yes, it was pouring.  And yes, we were soaked.  Gavin DeGraw, Soldier (Rye Playland, July 23, 2012, with Billy Norris, Jimmy Wallace, Ian O'Neill, James Cruz)