Food and My Body
This is a post I've been thinking about for weeks and it will be haphazard and scattered, but I need to get it out there for me. If you read to the end, thank you.
Food, I have discovered, is an emotionally charged topic. Until I was in my early 30's, I always found it easy to maintain my "ideal" weight. I could eat what I wanted, eschew exercise and look great doing it. In my 30's, I started gaining weight, but it was a slow process. I also started going to the gym. I still felt pretty okay and looked pretty okay. When we adopted Prima, I felt great and had a wonderful trip to China. When we adopted Segunda, I hurt everywhere and the trip to China was very very hard for me. In my mid-40's I have begun to deteriorate and I'm fat. Paradoxically, I'm also not into body shaming. There is nothing I want more than to give my children the idea that I have a healthy outlook on my body and I hope I'm faking it well enough to convince them. But my body makes me want to cry big ugly tears when I look in the mirror. I have almost no energy. I struggle with patience for my kids. My joints hurt. Being in pain makes me short tempered. I have a hard time staying on task.
So, I started one of those shake programs thanks to a good friend of mine. I did it for 13 days and then fell off the wagon. But during that 13 days, I drank the shakes, ate the low cal snacks, the super healthy dinners that I was cooking with little fanfare (and normally cooking on weeknights stresses me out) and had the occasional glass of wine. I gave up coffee without a hitch. I did a 2 day cleanse that was almost my undoing. I very nearly had an emotional breakdown on day 2 of the cleanse and I wasn't hungry. I don't know if it was toxins leaving my body or what, but I was a disaster. This happened on Wednesday. The emotional disaster part lasted all the way through mid-Saturday. That's when I gave myself permission to eat whatever I wanted Sunday and Monday of this weekend. Until then, the idea that I had to drink a shake while our house guests were enjoying eggs and bacon had me a puddle on the floor. The idea that when we went to lunch with our guests and I had to drink a shake while they ate red meat delights on a bun - yep, you guessed it - wanted to cry like a baby. And Segunda's Gotcha Day celebration was today (the actual day is tomorrow) - I was not going to celebrate that with a shake and a broccoli floret.
But why am I so emotional over food. Food is a way to fuel your body. I was in no way deprived during those 13 days. I wasn't even hungry. And since I cheated the last 2 days, I have discovered that my hips, knees, ankles and feet had stopped hurting and I didn't even notice. I notice now because they hurt again.
Here's what I figure: when I was a kid, I was a very picky eater. When I found something I liked, I ate a lot of it. When I lived with my dad as a pre-teen and early teenager, his wife was a terrible cook who thought she was a gourmet. I couldn't even swallow her food. She insisted that I eat it for breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, and so on until it was rotten. I would go days without eating because I was more stubborn than she was. I knew I was scarred by that because I'm adamant that the only thing my kids have to do is take one "no thank you" bite and then they can have Cheerios or peanut butter and jelly. That's what my mom did and it worked for us. It took the anxiety out of meal time. But I think I spent enough time with my step mother that me and food have a rather emotionally charged relationship.
So, here I sit in my darkened bedroom, one kid asleep and one kid on YouTube, feeling bloated with painful joints. I no longer want to cry over missed food, but I'm also not missing anything. Tomorrow I'm back on the wagon. And I just might try another cleanse next week. I'm actually trying and enjoying foods I used to hate. It's a new world of gastric delights for me and these kinds of delights don't make my body hurt. This weekend I made a roasted cauliflower and garlic "hummus" for my snacks this week. I'll add a green apple and I'm good to go. Dinners are already planned and include salmon and asparagus; mexican chicken soup; chicken thighs with pineapple; rice pasta with sautéed veggies. I mean that all sounds amazing doesn't it? Maybe I can stay on track this time. Maybe I can avoid the toddler-like temper tantrum over foods I shouldn't be eating anyway.
Food, I have discovered, is an emotionally charged topic. Until I was in my early 30's, I always found it easy to maintain my "ideal" weight. I could eat what I wanted, eschew exercise and look great doing it. In my 30's, I started gaining weight, but it was a slow process. I also started going to the gym. I still felt pretty okay and looked pretty okay. When we adopted Prima, I felt great and had a wonderful trip to China. When we adopted Segunda, I hurt everywhere and the trip to China was very very hard for me. In my mid-40's I have begun to deteriorate and I'm fat. Paradoxically, I'm also not into body shaming. There is nothing I want more than to give my children the idea that I have a healthy outlook on my body and I hope I'm faking it well enough to convince them. But my body makes me want to cry big ugly tears when I look in the mirror. I have almost no energy. I struggle with patience for my kids. My joints hurt. Being in pain makes me short tempered. I have a hard time staying on task.
So, I started one of those shake programs thanks to a good friend of mine. I did it for 13 days and then fell off the wagon. But during that 13 days, I drank the shakes, ate the low cal snacks, the super healthy dinners that I was cooking with little fanfare (and normally cooking on weeknights stresses me out) and had the occasional glass of wine. I gave up coffee without a hitch. I did a 2 day cleanse that was almost my undoing. I very nearly had an emotional breakdown on day 2 of the cleanse and I wasn't hungry. I don't know if it was toxins leaving my body or what, but I was a disaster. This happened on Wednesday. The emotional disaster part lasted all the way through mid-Saturday. That's when I gave myself permission to eat whatever I wanted Sunday and Monday of this weekend. Until then, the idea that I had to drink a shake while our house guests were enjoying eggs and bacon had me a puddle on the floor. The idea that when we went to lunch with our guests and I had to drink a shake while they ate red meat delights on a bun - yep, you guessed it - wanted to cry like a baby. And Segunda's Gotcha Day celebration was today (the actual day is tomorrow) - I was not going to celebrate that with a shake and a broccoli floret.
But why am I so emotional over food. Food is a way to fuel your body. I was in no way deprived during those 13 days. I wasn't even hungry. And since I cheated the last 2 days, I have discovered that my hips, knees, ankles and feet had stopped hurting and I didn't even notice. I notice now because they hurt again.
Here's what I figure: when I was a kid, I was a very picky eater. When I found something I liked, I ate a lot of it. When I lived with my dad as a pre-teen and early teenager, his wife was a terrible cook who thought she was a gourmet. I couldn't even swallow her food. She insisted that I eat it for breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, and so on until it was rotten. I would go days without eating because I was more stubborn than she was. I knew I was scarred by that because I'm adamant that the only thing my kids have to do is take one "no thank you" bite and then they can have Cheerios or peanut butter and jelly. That's what my mom did and it worked for us. It took the anxiety out of meal time. But I think I spent enough time with my step mother that me and food have a rather emotionally charged relationship.
So, here I sit in my darkened bedroom, one kid asleep and one kid on YouTube, feeling bloated with painful joints. I no longer want to cry over missed food, but I'm also not missing anything. Tomorrow I'm back on the wagon. And I just might try another cleanse next week. I'm actually trying and enjoying foods I used to hate. It's a new world of gastric delights for me and these kinds of delights don't make my body hurt. This weekend I made a roasted cauliflower and garlic "hummus" for my snacks this week. I'll add a green apple and I'm good to go. Dinners are already planned and include salmon and asparagus; mexican chicken soup; chicken thighs with pineapple; rice pasta with sautéed veggies. I mean that all sounds amazing doesn't it? Maybe I can stay on track this time. Maybe I can avoid the toddler-like temper tantrum over foods I shouldn't be eating anyway.
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