Archive for October, 2007

Where should I be at this point in my Intuitive Eating/Body Acceptance journey? It’s been roughly two months and I was hoping to be a bit more zen by now. Alas, maybe even a wee bit of zen doesn’t jive with my personality.

My Internal Caretaker has been popping in and out. As soon as I get grumpy about a food choice she pops in to tell me it’s OK. But I have been experiencing some negative body thoughts the past few weeks. It’s as if I can’t do two sanity-making things at once.

I guess I just need to access my Internal Caretaker more throughout the day.

I don’t know. Just feeling a bit unsatisfied and frustrated. Wishing for a sprinkling of zen.


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My parents live up in the mountains and just had to evacuate their home yesterday because of a fire. SoCal is burning up right now. It’s horrifying.

It looks like my parents’ condo will be OK but it’s truly too early to know for sure. I am overwhelmed with anxiety because of this.

I have no tools to deal with this – none that make sense minus eating. I actually haven’t eaten to soothe myself, yet. So maybe I will and maybe I won’t.

I am telling myself that if I do, all it is is a lesson about my Internal Caretaker (ala WWSHTB). I would really rather be strong and deal with this without food. I’m just not there yet. So I keep reminding myself that this is a learning moment – a point in time where I can be nice to myself even if I comfort myself with food. Not a time to hate myself because I don’t know how else to calm this anxiety.

Someday I will. Today just does not seem to be that day.

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So yesterday I was eating at our favorite local diner with Z and my parents. My stepdad says to Z, near the end of the meal, “Tell your mother to finish her lunch”. I responded “I am finished” and he looked at me shocked. He then told me I “barely touched it” (which was so not true, the portion was HUGE). I quipped about portion size and that I didn’t have to eat the entire thing and he joked “How unAmerican of you”.

So it ended on a humorous note but the whole thing made me think – did I hear comments like that growing up? I really do not remember experiencing membership in the Clean Your Plate Club but that can very well mean it blended in to the every day. I really don’t know.


On a totally random note, someone found my blog by searching “The lungs of my body pic”. What the hell??! LOL.

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Thanks to Bliss Chick I had the pleasure to read this post over at Goddess In A Teapot. Lots of Food for Thought to chew on.

It has also made me want to find a book on spiritual eating, if that makes sense. How to make food more than just something to obsess over and, also, more than just fuel for my body.

Something to celebrate with the Lord and Lady.

Not sure if I have mentioned on this blog that I am a very laid-back, eclectic (neo)pagan. A little too laid-back, I feel. I need to get the goddess back in to my daily life. It all seems too fleeting, too random. I am making a point to go for a walk with Z in our park first thing in the morning. By making a point I mean today was the very first day. 😉 But it was nice – we crawled out of bed, got in to warmer clothes, and she got to enjoy a snack of raisins, plantain chips, and cashews as I pushed her along in her stroller. I am hoping this time will get me some much needed exercise but also will be a time I can commune with the trees, the fresh air, etc… I have read a bit about walking meditations but I don’t know if I would be able to manage that while also interacting with Z. Maybe a moderate version of that. Conscious walking?

In the spirit of regaining some of my footing on my spiritual path, I was wondering if there are any books/blogs/websites/whatnot about eating spiritually? I am thinking that if I get my head wrapped up a little more in the trees, sky, wind, and fire I would spend less time thinking about how fat I look.

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Today we went to lunch at a friend of my husband’s (new, through work). They were a nice couple (my first time meeting them) and the wife made quite a spread. First off, let me say how happy I am not to be dieting. I was able to enjoy the food without worrying about ratios, points, calories, what have you. I was also able to not Last Meal it as well. No stuffing my face because this will be “the last time” I may ever eat a deviled egg.

We took Z and she had a blast. The place was full of shiny objects, snow globes, candles, breakables – all within reach of her excited little hands. She did pretty well there but, of course, needed to be watched like a hawk. No accidents, thankfully.

So mid-meal, I got up to explore with her, keep her tiny fingers at bay. Once I was able to sit back down I realized I was full. I had eaten enough of the meal that (I hope) it wasn’t insulting but I did not eat as much as I know I would have given the chance pre-fullness.

I enjoyed some chocolate mousse for dessert – just enough to satisfy the mouth hunger. And I was good to go. Full the rest of the day until this moment. Hmmm, what should I eat for dinner?

How do I replicate this experience? How do I get in to the habit of stepping away from my meal midway? And how do I do this without making it feel like a should or a rule. I am so good at that, it’s hard to let go of the habit. I want to make it a natural part of me. But do I go through some behavioral conditioning first? I feel like I need a timer or some sort of visual reminder at every meal. That seems a bit diet-y to me, though. Or is that just my diet baggage whacking me in the head?

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I have been half-heartedly bringing home foods that I like. I have made all foods “legal” and feel fine in that area. But I am not buying tons and tons to fill my cupboards up. Mainly because I just don’t have the finances to do so – not sure how to get around that.

I keep a box of Trader Joe’s frozen cookie dough in my freezer regularly. I had just been keeping one box and then buying another soon after those were gobbled up (which is a definite). This was keeping me pretty happy, until the other night. I had 3 left (the dough is formed in to small cookies) and was about the enjoy them when my husband asked to have one.

Egads! You would have thought he asked for one of my lungs. I felt immediately threatened by this request. Those are my cookies, dammit. They were my special treat.

I told him I would rather not share.

Being that my husband is a normal eater, he thought my reaction was absurd and was annoyed by me. How ridiculous it is that I didn’t want to share one measly cookie. And he’s pretty much right. So we went back and forth a bit – he had some sweet treats in the home, why didn’t he eat those, he says he likes chocolate chip cookies too, yadda yadda yadda.

I basically laid it out for him – sorry, I know it seems crazy, but these are the last and it is a big deal for me to give even one up. I’d rather not share tonight. BUT, I promise to buy enough on my next Trader Joe’s trip for both of us and keep enough in the house so that this is not an issue. The whole thing reminded me of the wife in When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies (or maybe it was their other book) whose husband was annoyed she wouldn’t share her Hershey bars. She ended up going out right then and buying a ton for her entire family – keeping hers off limits. I held on to that story in my mind, to help not feel so alone in my insanity.

My husband ended up being cool about the whole thing and now we have two boxes of chocolate chip cookies in the freezer. I plan to restock as soon as that second one in opened.

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I had a random memory last night. When I was 11, I was a junior bridesmaid in my oldest cousin’s wedding. It was my first wedding since my mother married my stepfather when I was 3. I was beyond thrilled to be measured for my bridesmaid dress and was really in to what size I was. I believe I was a dress size 11/12 back then and proudly told people who would bother to talk to me about it.

My other cousin, the sister of the groom, was also a bridesmaid. She was probably 20 at the time and I had grown up thinking she was the shit (well, maybe viewed in more child-appropriate terms, heh). She lived 10 hours from us, so I only saw her about once a year. Every visit to her home, I would come back with a cool new cousin thing to do. Like when she was 16 and had stickers/photos all over her bedroom mirror. Guess what I did when I got back from vacation?

Moving on…

At the rehearsal for the wedding, I was standing around with the groomsmen and bridesmaids, bathing in all of the wedding prep glory. I remember the groom’s friend flirting a ton with my cousin (blonde hottie, in my opinion), while we stood around the church. And then the silly little eleven year old junior bridesmaid asked her cousin what size her bridesmaid dress was. Because that was such a fascinating, need to know conversation topic.

And that’s when I learned that you do not ask a woman her dress size. My cousin, red in the face, stammered that out in front of the flirting men (I may have asked her weight as well, I don’t remember). I will 100% grant that it was not the place to ask – it was not a private forum. Not my business, either, but I was 11. The look of horror, however, taught me right then and there that she was ashamed of her size. I would guess she was a current size 16 – maybe? And the way she responded revealed that it wasn’t the mere pragmatic oops that I had made to cause her wording – but that she was embarrassed by the amount of space she filled in. Never mind how beautiful she was in my eyes or those flirtatious groomsmen’s eyes.

I really do not know how this moment in time affected my view on being a big woman. But it must have carved some sort of home in my mind.

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