Thursday, May 27, 2010

In a Fat State of Mind

For a carb junkie like me, the Primal lifestyle is not easy. When I say junkie, I do mean junk, not even "healthy" carbs - white rice, tons of pasta, starchy, grainy things, IV drips of HFCS and sugar (well almost, except I'd probably need a prescription for that and I'm not fond of the doctor). Carbs were the worst, but there were plenty of other bad habits: fried foods, at least 4 cups of coffee before noon with non-dairy creamer and artificial sweetener, no exercise, way too much TV, never enough sleep, always planning but never doing. In the end, real life was passing me by while I was in my carb coma.

But, recovery is never easy - I know they can wake up from a six month coma and run a marathon 3 days later on the Young & the Restless, but that's just not possible. It takes time, persistence, confidence, dedication, and usually some pains, tears, and a whole lot of four-letter words. In the end, hopefully you make yourself proud that you took the journey and maybe make some others proud of you too.

Now, I know we're talking carbs not a coma, but it's not as simple as that for a lot of people I think. Carbs can become a crutch that you use to prop yourself up when other things aren't so great. They can become a replacement for family, friends, relationships, companionship, success, control, grief... they are comforting when faced with loneliness, heartbreak, stress, unaccomplished goals and dreams, lost potential. I think it must sound silly to people who haven't experienced it, but there it is. It's emotional eating, not rational eating people!

I, a fat person, would have denied and denied that I'm an emotional eater... until a couple of months ago. My roommate moved out and I moved my exercise equipment into her old room so I'd have an "Exercise Room" where I could focus on getting healthier and losing weight. It wasn't until about two months later, one Saturday when I was watching DVD's of "Diagnosis Murder", pulling the blinds down to block out the sun, and eating Cheetos and cupcakes (which is a common weekend activity for me) that I realized I'd moved her stuff into that room and it was now out of sight, out of mind. And I was stuffing my fat cells with this shit because I didn't know what else to do with myself. I mean, I live alone, I'm single, no kids, am an introvert so I don't have a lot of friends, don't belong to any clubs or gyms, don't volunteer, don't shop a lot because I don't like nick-knacks and most of the stores don't have clothes that fit me, block the sun out of almost all my windows, and rarely leave my apartment except to go to work, the grocery store, and a few other occasional places. What a waste of space I am! Then there was a pity party that, of course, involved more Cheetos and cupcakes, but also involved brownies and ice cream and pizza. I was going to drown my sorrows yet again - and I did!

It took a couple more months for me to come around to finally giving the primal lifestyle an honest-to-goodness try. Why'd it take so long? What finally changed my mind? I'll tell you in another post. For now, I just wanted to share my shame - yep, my pure embarrassment and shame - that I was given an opportunity to live a wonderful life, to fulfill dreams that I haven't even realized I have yet, to be fortunate enough to not have to pinch every penny, and to have warm, caring people around me and to have just squandered that for nothing. For a massive layer of fat that surrounds my body, that puts people off, that makes me feel defensive about everything, that discourages touching, that holds me back at every crossroads in my life, that suffocates my courage, the extinguishes the fire inside me, that suppresses my joy, that overshadows the person I am.

Anyway, having realized all this for soooo long, it's ridiculous that I wouldn't take steps to correct it in myself, right? Yeah, it's pretty stupid. I don't think the Primal lifestyle will be easy for a girl like me who would sell her soul to work as a taste-tester at Krispie Kreme, but I'm ready to really give it a go.

So, confession 2: I am an emotional eater! Go frickin' figure. I eat when I'm bored, depressed, lonely, stressed... bored. I gotta do something with myself - another real epiphany, I know, but this time, I'm going to make it happen. Anyway, I have to accept it for what it is - a bad habit - and move on to a Grok state of mind.

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