Archive for the The Journey Category

I am currently in San Diego enjoying sunshine, warmer weather and fellowship with a dear friend. I have been here three days and already the time has proved refreshing and precious. Every moment is a blessing and I cannot begin to think about leaving. Today was rich in that I met my friend’s, friend. Stephanie is a beautiful woman who encouraged me by telling me I am a strong person. I don’t always feel strong and I explained why. She told me that maybe it would help others if I shared my struggles. I will attempt to transcribe part of the conversation we had today.

Compulsion is defined by Mirriam Webster’s dictionary as “an irresistible persistent impulse to perform an act (as excessive hand washing); also: the act itself.”

When I say I am a food addict, I mean that I want to eat all the time. Food is usually at the forefront of my mind. When I do manage to block out thoughts of it I am inevitably distracted by some beautiful food that comes across my path. For instance, at Christmas I was taking papers to my boss and passed by filing cabinets that had cookies on them. These cookies were the prettiest cookies I have ever seen. They were Christmas trees with green icing and multi-colored ornaments. Without thinking, I picked up the cookies and stuffed them into a napkin and carried them back to my desk. I looked at the pretty cookies for not more than 30 minutes before deciding I had to eat them rather than take them home to my family. Then I somehow convinced myself that I would not eat any other “bad” things that day. This is compulsive behavior. Had I not seen the cookies I would not have craved them or desired them. But once seen, I grabbed without even thinking because they were extremely attractive to me. I have built walls to protect me from many foods in the grocery store and instinctively walk away without compulsively grabbing but when I see something out of the ordinary that is flashy or particularly desireable, I grab, eat, and deal with the consequences later.

This is probably fairly normal behavior for people who have a sweet tooth. At least this is what people tell me. But here’s the tricky part, the thing that makes this food addiction so entirely miserable. If I leave the pretty cookie and don’t eat it I will think about the great loss of the uneaten cookie for the rest of the day. I will actually grieve the cookie if I don’t eat it. If I do eat it I will regret it all day. The point I am trying to make is I often feel like I lose either way. And the cookie is just one example of the many things I have eaten/not eaten, that torture me hourly. I say hourly because the feeling of wanting rarely leaves me. This is why I thought losing weight was impossible. I felt that even if I resisted food it would haunt me forever. I thought being thin would mean a miserable me always wanting and never finding relief.

But this is not entirely true. Once I discovered sugar as a trigger and began to cut it out of my diet, I began to learn that if I did not eat certain foods I did not crave them. This same rule applies to fast food, soda, ice cream and chips. In fact, many processed foods hold no sway with me now. It’s the compulsion that kills me. If I see it and decide I want to have a little treat, then I begin the sugar cycle all over again. Knowing this truth about my body helps me to be wise if only I can resist the compulsion to grab pretty foods when they present themselves.

Stephanie made a very good suggestion today. She said, “When food screams your name, go walk somewhere for 20 minutes and pray instead of eating it.” I thought it was a very good suggestion but not always practical. Usually the food is right outside my cube at work and I have to keep working so I can’t walk away. In essence, I am continually inundated with food temptations. One thing that works for me is memorizing scripture. I may not be able to control the temptation but I can control my response to it if I am intentional about it. I will admit it often takes a lot of will power and determination but obviously it is not impossible. I have lost 140 pounds over the course of nearly 3 years by using these methods, therefore I know they work for me.

No one ever said life would be easy. Everyone has something they struggle with. My desire for food is a burden when I let it become a burden. But when I give it to Jesus, when I ask him to give me strength to resist temptation, he does. I don’t claim to understand it. I only know he helps me supernaturally. Also, I have educated myself on eating foods that satisfy me wholly. Strawberries, raisins, sweet potatoes. These foods satisfy my cravings for sweet things yet nourish my body in a way that eliminates cravings. And water. Water is my biggest weapon because when I drink it I defeat the dehydration that feigns hunger.

I’m sure I’ll write more about this topic in days to come but for now I’m going to sit back and soak in ocean air. I’m going to enjoy the warm weather for 2 more days, and then I shall return to Missouri to endure winter’s last gasp. I am thankful today for many things, but most of all for Jesus who has walked with me on this journey to better health and has heard my cries of hopelessness and who has loved me even when my belly was full of cookie dough and I felt like the biggest failure on the planet.

I am blessed.

When I was a child I used to dream that one day I would grow up and be beautiful. I often felt like the ugliest child in my class. I was often told how odd I was and I tended to be a tomboy. I liked hiking in the woods and catching frogs. I enjoyed playing soccer. But I will never forget that moment at church camp where a boy asked me, “Are you a girl or a boy?” He was serious. And it stung.

When I reached highschool I carried a lot of that baggage with me. I desperately wanted to fit in and look like the other girls. Some of the hairstyles I tried make me cringe to this day. But the one thing I never could manage was looking thin. I remember drinking slimfast shakes for lunch and doing low impact aerobics in a mad attempt to be thin and “beautiful.” I remember losing 20 pounds and feeling great, only to gain it back within a few months and feel horrible about myself. It still makes me sick that I was more worried about what I looked like than learning.

I went to Homecoming my Sophmore year with my friends and dressed up in a beautiful dress my mother picked out for me at Dilliards. I felt so special in that black dress. I liked it because it hid my lumpy belly and thighs and was covered with ruffles. It was the perfect dancing dress because I could twirl around and all the ruffles would flow out around me. For that one night I felt special.

Since I have grown up I have learned that my self worth does not come from what I look like. My children love me whether I have makeup on or not. Which is a great thing because I really only wear it to work. My husband loves me even when I pull my hair back in a ponytail and lounge around in decades old jammies. Real love looks at the heart, not at the dress size.

If there is one thing I could teach women today it would be “Stop worrying over what you look like and just be who you are.” But this is easier said than done when marketing companies are so focussed on diminishing our self worth in order to sell us a product we “need” to look “beautiful.”

A friend told me recently that she loves my beautiful heart. It is probably the best compliment I have received in years. No matter what I look like on the outside, as long as my heart is beautiful, that’s all that matters to me. My body is aging. Pieces of me sag and I am starting to see silver sprinkled throughout my hair. But I am learning to love the worry lines on my face. They give me character. They tell a story I don’t want to destroy with cosmetic surgery.

When I first set out to get healthy I knew I wanted to lose weight. But I also knew I needed to address the heart issues that had plagued me for years. I felt worthless, inadequate and weak. So much of this had to do with my size. How I wish I could go back and tell myself that no matter what size I was, I was still the same person inside. Skin deep beauty is no beauty at all.

I will never look like a model. I will never wear a size 6 dress. I will probably always have chunky thighs. And I’m okay with all those things. My body is a temporary dwelling place. And while I do feel it is important to take care of it, my whole self worth should not be determined by what it looks like at any given moment. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, rather, let everyone see my beautiful heart.

I am learning to love myself and that is one of the most challenging projects I have ever undertaken. But it is well worth the journey.

I don’t know why I saved that dress from highschool but I did. For some reason I couldn’t bear to part with it. I recently pulled it out and dusted it off. Then I made my 15 year old son, who is a Sophmore in highschool, take my picture in it. It fits a little differently but it fit nonetheless. As I stood and posed I thought, this is just a dress, nothing more, nothing less. For that matter, I feel just as good in my workout clothes. It reminded me that inside I am not who I was back then. And while I am extremely proud of fitting back into it, I know my current size does not define who I am. But what really stuns me is this. I am the same size I was my Sophmore year in highschool. Back then I thought I was the fattest and ugliest girl alive. But today, at that same size, I know I am just as beautiful as I was back then. And that is something to be pround of.

Let me begin by saying yesterday was purely dreadful. I felt like Br’er Rabbit after his fight with the tar baby. If you haven’t read that story, you should. There were no winners. But the thing about bad days is, they eventually end and the sun comes up and we get to start over.

And today was glorious! Although it was a little humid I didn’t complain. It was the first time in what felt like many moons that my bones weren’t frozen solid and I was feeling bouncy. I hopped up my hills with Br’er Rabbit’s energy and thought warm, Springy thoughts. While walking I thought about how good it is to be alive, and how lucky I am to be mobile and mostly carefree. After my shower I moved to put pants on and discovered they were a little big. This would put anyone in a good mood but to me, that’s as good as winning the lottery.

So I stuffed my youngest beast-let into the car and we raced off to the babysitter and whammo! Red light. And another. And another. We hit every single red light on the way. But I was still in a good mood and I just kept bopping along thinking, nothing is going to rain on this parade. And then I hit traffic on the highway. So I’m sitting there under an overpass, blaring some 90’s grunge music and thinking, “This is the life. Sitting in traffic, listening to my favorite singer who died from a heroin overdose wail, while I wait to be late for work. This is great! I love my life.” I was so happy I began to wonder if the exhaust pipe in my car was clogged.

I finally arrived at work, 30 minutes late, and my boss, who is supposed to be in a meeting at another campus greets me, “Good morning, Margaret.” And a song starts to play in my mind…. “It’s a pretty good day and I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” Because sometimes my life runs on a soundtrack. I don’t know why.

And then I see him. No, not my boss. Another guy. Let’s call him The Sultan of Swagger. He’s cocked back in a chair, wearing his winningest smirk all the while pontificating about “the business.” And it’s not what he’s saying, but how he’s saying it that catches my attention. His shoulders are relaxed, his neck is loose, and by the way his shoulders move as he speaks I know that he knows everything about anything. He is just one smooth guy.

Juxtapose this with me making my morning trip to the restroom to make sure my underwear isn’t showing because I forgot a belt(baggy pants, remember?) In there I meet a coifed and casual woman who gives me the standard “How are you today?” greeting.

I should have said fine and moved one. But instead replied, “I’m feeling a little Annie-ish this morning.”

“Pardon me?” She says.

“I’m feeling a bit like Little Orphan Annie this morning.” I say. “You know, (and I begin to sing with exagerated arm movement) It’s a hard knock life for us…” (because as I mentioned earlier it’s humid and now that my hair is dry I feel that I look like a grown up version of the sunny little red haired girl, even though I don’t have red hair).

My co-worker says, “You’re cute.”

Which is exactly what I want to be in the work place. Not Professional, but Cute.

Back to The Sultan. He is new in our area and in reality knows very little about anything. But you would never know this to have a conversation with him because he is so self-confident he could impress a donkey. And for one fleeting moment I wonder if I should be more like him. I mean, I could hold my shoulders that way and cock my head to the side and give off quirky little grins. I could nod my head and use big words. People might even look at me and say, “Look at Margaret. She is one professional lady.”

Alas, that is not who I am, but sometimes I like to think I can swagger. Usually it comes off as more of a goofy grin, wherein my nose crinkles and my eyes get lopsided and I end up looking like a reject from an episode of Seinfeld, but that’s not the point. It’s the attitude that counts. Even if I am just the Matron of Malarchy, when I walk down the hall I hear “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Jees and I am every bit as cool as John Travolta was over 30 years ago. And that’s saying something.

I may never be rich. I may never be glamorous. I may never find the cure for the saggy baggy tummy. BUT give me a warm day filled with sunshine, and the satisfaction of knowing I did the very best I could(even in adverse circumstances) and I am one happy girl. Sometimes we have to experience the bad days to really appreciate the good ones. Even if the reason my pants were too big was because I accidentally picked them out of the pile of clothes I slimmed out of months ago.