Keep It Simple, Stupid!
“I put my heart in your hands… and together we can do what we could never do alone.”
A wise man once told me that over eating is the worst addiction you can have. Worse than any narcotic, alcohol or nicotine addiction you could ever have. Because while over eating rarely leads to dangerous shock withdrawal symptoms, you do need to eat to live! This man then pointed out to me, what if you needed to drink alcohol to survive everyday? Like water! Overeaters have to eat because we must eat to survive! Our bodies cannot function without food. It’s not exactly a disease you can quit by going cold turkey. In fact I rather have that turkey smothered in hot gravy and eat the whole bird please!
We all know about the dangers of eating out. We know that our portions are over sized, covered in grease, fat, and honestly, who the hell knows what else! But what about when you’re at home? While the over sized portions in restaurants are enormous, there is at least the clink of your fork hitting the bottom of the plate to let you know it’s empty and knowing you’ll have to fork over your wallet if you want more. When I moved to Portland, I was introduced to my god mother’s home cooked meals. The problem with that is that there was always the promise of not only seconds, but thirds. Hell, sometimes fourths! It’s after you’ve eaten the entire casserole dish set for eight or till you’ve eaten the whole package of hot dogs, plus fries, some chips, three sodas and half a pint of ice cream do you realize, god I shouldn’t have eaten that.
Maybe because when fat people are out in public, we’re shamed if we’ve eaten the whole plate, or if we’re not shamed, know we can take it home, eat it secretly eat it there and then have more. I am ashamed to admit that when I was living with the ex I was ashamed how much food we went through! And it was mostly eaten by me. That doesn’t include the two or three nights a week we ate out nor when we went over to his parents for dinner. We didn’t eat to live, we lived to eat! It’s no wonder that in just under seven months of living outside my parents home, I gained almost thirty pounds!
I technically live at my parents house now, at least until I move in with my future roomies. But my time is divided up between traveling back and forth from their house, work, and Chris‘s. In a given week I spend about a day or two a week at my mother’s house. Without dwelling too far into my parents home life, I find whenever I go “home”, I find myself habitually living to eat again. I don’t know how it happened, but ever since I met Chris, I’ve slowly transitioned myself to eat to live. It’s something I always wanted to learn how to do, but whenever I try, I almost always end up bingeing so badly after a couple of weeks that when I do fall off the wagon and crash, I regained the three or two pounds it took those two weeks to lose. I mostly have Chris to thank for learning how to eat to live.
While he’s never once commented on my weight (smart man!) or judge me on my food choices, he’s both unintentionally and intentionally helped me lose weight. I on the other hand, feel like the bad influence and have made him slightly gain weight! It’s not just how he always lets me have first plate of food, it’s the fact that I always feel full around him. Maybe it’s the fact he cooks so well, as it is his given profession, that I feel fuller faster and the need to eat less? Who knows. What I do know is that it’s nice to finally have someone fighting in my corner. I know that I am strong enough to accomplish anything I set my mind to, but its nice to know I have someone sitting in my corner to catch me when I stumble. Someone who when I declare my intention for the millionth time to restrain from soda’s will say, “I’ll give up soda too, for you.” Simply because he knows how hard it is for me to resist the temptation when it is around the house.
I’ve never had someone do that for me, in any relationship. Someone who, when I ask, “Hey, can we do grilled chicken salads for dinner tomorrow night?” Automatically say, “Sure, I think I can make that.” etc and so forth. I haven’t quite mastered this whole, eating to live thing but I’m starting to. And I think it’s because I am finally getting the emotional support that I need. I never realized how much my eating depended on not only my own will power but the support of those around me. I always felt that if I could, by myself, only gather that will power to just stop, then I’d be cured. But no, the answer is simple. The answer is love. Okay, that’s cheesy but often the simple answers are. And as I’ve been told, keep it simple stupid!
The answer is love. Loving not just yourself but having people who love you enough to truly see what you need and not what they think you need. On my way home yesterday, I began to think about faith. I am not a big believer in faith. I don’t believe in God but I’m not an atheist. I know that there is something out there and that we are all connected to it through our energy. That I can believe. Love is something I can believe in. Not co-dependant Twlight EMO love but real unconditional love. Love enough to love myself and all my flaws. Love enough to believe someone else will too. Love enough to let other’s live their own life and help where I can. Love enough to let unrequited and old wounds go. Love enough to let new love in. And as I was thinking these thoughts yesterday and listening to Paramore- the Only Exception, I saw a bluejay. Without going into too much detail, the running joke is that whenever my family see’s a bluejay, we say hi to grandma, because she insisted that she was going to be reincarnated into a bluejay. At that little sign, I knew I had come to the right conclusion. Grandma flew away as I said goodbye and I smiled. I think that this something I can jump on board with.