How does this make me different than you? Well, I’ll tell you how sick I am. My father-in-law suffered a heart attack two weeks ago, thankfully he is in full recovery, however when we got the phone call, and as I was in the midst of running around packing bags and making phone calls to ship the kids off, ya know what popped into my head? “Oh, he’s at Winthrop, they have killer frozen yogurt”. That was my second-wake-up call; the siren went off telling me that I have a BIG problem. My family is thrown into crisis, and I’m thinking about frozen yogurt? What’s even sadder is the fact that I know a HOSPITAL has great frozen yogurt. C’mon really?
After working with a nutritionist for the last seven months through this Health Magazine gig (total loss in two years - 58 pounds, w/Health, well, I can't tell ya yet!!), the guidance, and knowledge I received from the panel of experts has been life changing. The only issue now is that I’m an Equal Opportunity Eater. I don’t discriminate. My heart races and my palms get sweaty for a nicely grilled plate of veggies sprinkled with olive oil and sea salt as much it does for a greasy hamburger with blue cheese crumbles, sautéed onions and bacon.
I also use food for comfort, so does half of America, but, unlike the rest of America I seriously have been working really hard not to abuse food. Changing a 30 year habit is not easy. I journal my food on a daily basis, and writing that I inhaled a bag of veggies fries definitely holds you accountable. I also take the time to plan all my dinners, and for some reason planning that one meal makes breakfast and lunch fall right into place. It’s annoying, time-consuming but so effective, for me anyway – especially since I have potential to binge. When we were little my sister and I after our Saturday morning clean would storm off to the local deli buy a foot long hero each (my feeling stuffer of choice was chicken roll and mayo (chicken roll doesn’t exist anymore which might explain my constant twitching), a big bag of chips (each), and a bottle of soda. We’d gorge ourselves and our feelings. I learned to use food to comfort every emotion (I’m 100% Italian, stuffing our faces is a tradition) to celebrate, to fill a hole, funerals, depression, loneliness, to ease any type of pain or sadness.
After two years of losing weight, I have worked on the emotional side of my eating. Now Instead of running off and eating because I am celebrating, or sad, or down in the dumps, I try really hard to basically sit in it and feel the emotion. It can be a very dark place, and on the good days it’s joyous to feel the love and happiness around you – to feel happy because you are happy not because you ate a Carvel soft-serve sundae with caramel, marshmallow and chocolate sprinkles. I do feel that I got a decent handle on this issue, but what scares the pants off me is the simple fact that some days I can go off the deep end. Got into a fight with the hubby, stressed by the kids, didn’t make it to the gym, found out a friend has cancer, annoyed by sisters, friends, school moms – and look whose driving through McDonalds’ ordering the number 2 (super sized of course)! This behavior makes me feel like a pimply 7th grader about to get her assed kicked: weak. Man I NEED balance, balance baby balance, where are ya when I need ya?!
My family doesn’t share the same affection or have a love affair I have with food. My hubby is a fireman, so those damn FDNY chefs have ruined it for me, he doesn’t get excited for anything because he eats like a King (name it – gourmet or comfort, he’s eaten it). My little buggers, well, the six year old if allowed would live on starbursts, but since I have a dentist phobia I put a stop to that; his palate consists of pizza, pumpernickel bread with cream cheese, a buttered bagel, plain pasta and only his Grammy’s meatballs, he has told me and I quote “my meatballs got nothing on Grammy’s”. I may have a chance with the two year old - he may turn into a real food lover, however I am afraid that his starch loving plain butter eating damn brother is ruining it for him.
I guess I’ve come to the realization that I still have a lot of work to do. It’s a process people,a frustrating process. I do believe that in some ways I will always be in love and find comfort in food. Food and me, we ain’t divorcing anytime soon. I need to learn to love food like an ex – find the balance that food should serve a purpose as fuel for my body, learn from my mistakes and when I screw up, take it up in food court, reassess and start paying support to myself again. Sounds like a plan, right? I'll draw up the custody plans now!
