My Story

My blog is a confessional today.

I have fallen off the wagon, in a way.  I've been struggling to get back on for about a year and, as I've struggled, I've become more and more unhappy with myself.  But I'm fairly good about seeing a bad situation and, rather than staying in it, I find a way out instead.  I brainstormed this morning, and I realized that my blog could help me.  So I start today in turning things around, and I start here so that I can hold myself accountable, document my new journey, and glean some inspiration.  Today, I'm going to start with sharing my story.

I've alluded to it a couple of times on the blog before, but I'll really get into it today.  I've always struggled with my weight.  My 8th grade graduation was awful: the dress I bought a couple months before suddenly didn't fit; I couldn't button it up and my mom had to do a quickie pin job.  And it went from there.  I felt fattest of all my friends in high school...I binge-ate...I tried bulimia (but failed)...  College wasn't much better: vegetables hardly ever passed my lips, and I had a weakness for Velveeta and Snackwell's cookies.  The Soul Twin and I used to share an entire tub of fat-free chocolate frosting in front of the TV, criticizing "those bitches" who had better metabolism than us, justifying the frosting binge since it was "fat-free".  I admit this with shame, of course, but I don't know that I would change a thing; it was cumulated moments like that that helped me get where I am now.  Anyway...

My pregnancy at 25 didn't help.  I loved Arby's.  I loved mozzarella sticks at Red Robin's.  I gained 60 pounds and, by the time I gave birth, I was 200 pounds.  At 5'5", that's not a small amount.  And the struggle went on...

For 17 years, I was a size 10 at my best...a size 14/16 at my most heavy.  Some of you reading this may scoff at that and say something like, "I wish I could be a 10...or even a 14."  And that's your personal struggle.  For me, though, at that weight, I don't feel good.  I don't feel healthy.  I don't feel sexy.  I don't feel like I'm at my best.  And that's a problem.

Anyway, my "bottom" was the year I turned 30.  It was a big, important, tumultuous year in my life, and I was really open to anything and everything.  That's when I read FRENCH WOMEN DON'T GET FAT by Mireille Guiliano.  Again, scoff all you like, but that book changed my life.  The very idea that I could eat full-fat, full-flavor food and lose weight at the same time?  Revolutionary for me.  I always sensed that I was doing it wrong, and what Mireille Guiliano was selling me seemed just right.

I threw myself into it - hook, line, and sinker - and I quickly (in about 3-4 months) went from a size 12 to a size 6.  Without going to the gym.  And without hardly stepping on the scale.  And I was eating the best food of my life.  This was in 2005.  Ultimately, two years later, I was a size 4 (sometimes a size 2).  And I never felt like I was skimping.  As Mireille Guiliano says, I felt "bien dans ma peau" (which means to be comfortable in your own skin, to be happy with who you are) and all was well.

What I love(d) about FRENCH WOMEN DON'T GET FAT is that it promotes cooking and eating as a pleasurable experience, which probably doesn't seem all that revolutionary to most of you but it certainly was to me at the time.  And as someone who has loathed and hated working out at the gym, the book also gave me permission to not go, pointing out that it is possible to eat pleasurably and sensibly and still lose weight, without the gym.  Instead, I got to walk everywhere.  I sought out the stairs (have you tried to find stairs in a suburban mall?  It's damn-near impossible). I never left my grocery cart in the parking lot; I always walked it back to the store - I also parked in the furthest spot in every lot.  FWDGF teaches you that every little bit of movement you do, every little bite or sip that you shave off of your meal counts.  It's about subtlety and grace; nothing is ever extreme.  All of this appealed to me, and it made me feel like I could be my Best Self.

But forward to today, and I'm off the French wagon. I've reached another "bottom".  At least two-thirds of my closet is undeniably unwearable, thanks to my weight gain (I think I'm up 2 sizes or so...I still don't weigh myself). My proportion sizes are out of control.  I drink too much. I hate pictures of myself.  I don't feel sexy or pretty.  I'm grumpy and short-tempered.  I just don't feel bien dans ma peau.  My French-ness has gotten away from me.

So that ends today.  Here and now.  And this blog is going to help me.  Tomorrow I'm going to share my plan.  Now that my story is out, I'm going to make my move to change it.  It's not over yet.

Eat, drink, and feel bien dans votre peau.


ADDED NOTE: I should also add that Adam has gone on this journey with me.  When I was 30, he was 32.  At 6'5" he was 210 pounds, which was too heavy for him, as evidenced by his near-constant knee/hip/back pain that markedly decreased when he got down to 185 pounds, post-Frenchness.  He has also fallen off the French wagon, as couples tend to do together, and we're recommitting together.  Here we go!

Apparently, I can't be trusted

The NYT Dining section this week had an article that, quite frankly, irritated me. Don’t believe me? Just ask the husband, who got the full brunt of my tirade. The article, “The Fat Pack Wonders If the Party’s Over” by Kim Severson, talks about foodies with weight problems and, thusly, health problems. These hedonistic, blogging, obsessive food addicts have diabetes, heart problems, high blood pressure…you know, all the usual problems that come with overindulgence. Obviously, I don’t have a problem with the general subject of the article – it’s true, there’s an obesity problem in America; let’s address it.

Here is my problem: I hate the word "dieting". Dieting means restrictions, limitations, denial, forced physical activity. The article states that Joseph Bastianich’s recipe for weight loss is “run a lot and try not to eat after 6 p.m.” Really??? “Run a lot”??? Now, I know lots of people that truly derive pleasure from running, and that may be the case with Mr. Bastianich. To each their own. But I am not a fan of running if its sole purpose is to allow you to eat more. Heaven forbid, rather than running for your life, you simply eat slightly less than you normally would have had you run. Heaven forbid, rather than take the elevator up three floors, you walk up the stairs instead. Sounds much more pleasurable (and sexy) to me than running.

The article states that, instead of chili dogs, Jason Perlow now blogs about “lentil soup and The Big Salad.” Why stop blogging about chili dogs? Chili dogs are soooo good! Perhaps instead of eating the whole thing, as Mr. Perlow might have done previously, he only eats half. He derives enormous pleasure from it, yet doesn’t get the weight gain from overindulgence. Why deny oneself the pleasure of a chili dog? It is also said that “though [Mr. Perlow] is still in mourning for his old loves, especially pizza and burgers, he says his pleasure receptors are better tuned to the joys of vegetables and legumes.” Well, I’m enormously pleased for him; his “pleasure receptors” should be more in tune with veggies and legumes. But why deny himself “old loves”? Please tell me that he still allows himself joyous nibbles of these foods occasionally! Please! They both can’t cause harm…in moderation. Or try those delicious vegetables on a thin pizza crust. Why must anyone deny themselves anything? Eat consciously and learn moderation in all things…that way, you can have your cake and eat it too.

Ultimately, I resent the implication that people who are food-obsessed and truly passionate about gastronomy must be overweight. Don’t think that’s true? Perhaps I am overreacting – it wouldn’t be the first time – but with books like Never Trust a Skinny Cook by Iain Hewitson and Mo’Nique’s Skinny Cooks Can’t Be Trusted, I can’t help but feel we’re completely misguided in our belief that one must eat everything on one’s plate to demonstrate and derive enjoyment. Why must this be about fat versus thin with a side dish of mistrust? I argue that, in my case, I’m a better cook for being a thinner one. Why? Because I make smart choices in my eating. I’m not going to waste my time with anything less than fantastic. I’ve had one bite of a piece of cake and pushed aside the rest because it was dry and too sugary. I’ve thrown out entire dishes right into the trash because I don’t want to waste the calories, fat, and sugar on something sub-par. I make conscious, smart choices about what is going into my body. I stop eating when I am satisfied, not when I’m full. I eat small portions of a bunch of different foods so that I’m able to enjoy everything. I never skip a meal, and I never eat low-fat, non-fat, low-cal, low-carb anything. Since when has moderation been equated with deprivation?

The implication is that, because I’m a healthy weight, I somehow deprive myself of pleasurable food. And that just isn’t the case with me and I’m certain you’d find that to be true of other cooks with healthy weights. I only live by the credo: all things in moderation. Eat consciously. Respect your food and your body. Avoid processed foods. Be healthy. Be comfortable in your skin, whatever weight that may be. That is how I lost 25 pounds and have kept it off for the past 2 years. And I’ve never eaten so well with such variety in my life.

For heaven's sake, bon appètit

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