I'm Coming Out

As is often the case, Diane at Fit to the Finish has written a post that I would like to respond to here. It's entitled One Big Mistake.

In a nutshell (though I know you'll read the whole post!), Diane reminds us that making mistakes is human and that rather than being defeated by our mistakes, we should learn from them and go on. The "one big mistake"--the only real "deal breaker" mistake--is not believing in yourself and in your ability to succeed.

My first instinct, and yours I'm sure, is to say "yes!". Believing in oneself is key to success. But something bothered me and I had to explore it further.

In the past, I have mentioned my failed hip surgery. It was something that was totally outside of my control. The surgeon made a bad call, which led to surgical complications, which led to a negative outcome for me. This negative outcome was not clear in the beginning. At first, it just seemed like the surgical complication would slow down my recovery, not stop it dead in its tracks and actually lead to increased disability. So at first, I bravely soldiered on, faithfully exercising (which actually made things worse) and plastering my home office with "I am recovering" post-it notes. Sadly, there are times when a positive attitude is about as useful as a broken washing machine when there are no clean clothes in the house. In other words, it's useless.

Well, I had the corrective surgery and then put my "I can do it" attitude to work because I knew that now my washing machine was repaired and it was time to get the clothes washed, so to speak! I recovered.

How does this apply to weight loss? Is that "can do" attitude going to get me there, just as it did after my revision surgery? Is really believing in myself and my ability to succeed the final key to a lasting and successful weight loss?

The answer is no.

As I read Diane's article, I realized that I have been making the changes that needed to be made and I have lost some weight--about a third of my ultimate goal. I am not a compulsive or binge eater--intuitive eating has been the right answer. For me, both physiologically and psychologically, dieting is a violent act. It was a temporary act of violence that I could implement when I was younger, but a lifetime of self-flagellation is not what I'm looking for in life. I decided that I had to make peace with food and that is what I'm doing. It's not a linear process. After all, this is a mind-shift, a turning-around of how I have thought throughout my adult life. In a sense, it's a lot harder than setting a daily calorie limit, though much more liberating in the long run (again, remember, I speak only for myself).

Another change that I've made is that I drink a lot more water. It's perhaps a small thing, but it's something that I believe is extremely valuable.

I have also only recently discovered the healing power of falling asleep naturally. I now never let myself fall asleep while watching TV. This was a bad habit I acquired when recovering from both my surgeries as well as from travelling a lot and having to fall asleep in hotel rooms. It's amazing how much better I feel now that I just turn off the TV and read a few pages of a good book before turning off the light at bedtime. My chronic, low-level headaches have all but disappeared and I think that even my blood pressure is going down. Why didn't I start listening to my husband years ago?

Unfortunately, I have hit the wall on what would have been the fourth pillar of a successful "healthy me"/weight loss strategy: exercise.

I feel I deserve hearty congratulations for maintaining a regular yoga practice. It has been of great value to me. But the fact is, due to my disabilities, the gentle yoga that is so good for me has no appreciable value as a weight-loss tool. (P.S., I cannot really do the simple act of sitting cross-legged, as in the photo I posted above).

My little best friend, the pedometer, has helped me to up the amount of daily walking I do. But I can't do the brisk walking that puts a little sheen of perspiration on the brow and burns a couple of pesky calories. When you're disabled, there are two kinds of pain: the pain that you, the non-disabled, feel when you're aiming for the burn and the pain that I feel when I'm doing something that's harmful to my body. I can distinguish between these types of pain and sadly, the pain of pushing myself which is required to burn calories, is the pain that could put me back in the hospital.

So I've decided to be honest with myself and answer Diane's question by saying that no, I don't really think I'm going to reach that wonderful goal. I'm not ready to close the door completely, but I think that I just have to keep doing what I'm doing and not set what is likely to be for me an unrealistic goal.

I'm going to keep blogging and keep reading blogs, including a number of weight loss blogs. Though I feel I have to "come out" as a non-weight loss blogger, I hope you will continue to drop by here to visit. I still want to inform, express my views and inspire you too, hopefully!

Food is Just Food

Here's a confession: I'm not a binge eater. I don't eat to stuff down my feelings, to compensate for past traumas or to make up for disappointment or sadness. The more I read fellow bloggers, the more I realize that my relationship with food is no more disordered than that of most women. Perhaps it's actually in the process of becoming a healthier relationship--less fraught with fear and loathing--than most women have with food.

Please don't get me wrong: I feel great compassion for those of you who have in the past or who continue to use food to deal with serious issues in your life. It's just not my reality.

Here's my reality:

I can't eat a lot. In fact, I can't eat very much, even if I just want to maintain my weight. I'm vertically challenged, peri-menopausal and disability prevents me from doing cardio-vascular exercise so I don't burn many calories. This sucks. But at least food is just food.

Photo Shop Madness

Via Huffington Post, this little gem of a photo:


Tell me, is it any wonder women are obsessed with being thin?

A Death in the Family

Yesterday, my 100-year old uncle died. He was two months short of his 101st birthday.

He had a heart attack about a month ago and stayed in the hospital for tests and stabilization for six days. The tests showed his heart was too fragile to operate on and he was feeling fine so he went home where he did his gardening and lived for a few pleasant weeks more.

I think my uncle definitely came out on the plus side on the great balance sheet of life. He was a good man--not perfect, but no one is.

My uncle actually had quite an exciting life before he settled permanently in Canada. He was born in Germany, the son of a man who was, for a time, the mayor of a small town near Frankfurt, I believe. His mother died while giving birth to him and he was raised by an aunt.

During the Great Depression he came to Canada, hoping for a better life. He was a man of principles and joined a volunteer brigade of Canadians who fought for the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War. A book was written about this brigade a few years ago. It wasn't a particularly well-written book, but it included four pages on my uncle! I was shocked to learn that after leaving Spain, he was almost turned away when he tried to get back to Canada. Fortunately, a nameless immigration bureaucrat literally turned away and didn't look so that my uncle could get through immigration. If this man had "done his job", my uncle would have been sent back to Germany and thrown in a concentration camp where he no doubt would have died: Hitler and Francisco Franco of Spain (the dictator that the Republicans unsuccessfully fought against) were great friends and my uncle's participation in the war on the Republican side would have signed his death warrant.

My uncle's subsequent life in Canada was fairly quiet. He married my aunt (my mother's sister--so I can't inherit any longevity genes from him since we're not blood relations) and had one daughter. I am particularly close to my cousin's daughter, now in her 30s. My uncle had two grandchildren and one great-grandchild.

Since he was a staunch atheist (as is everyone in my family except me--I am a committed agnostic!), I doubt he worried about the afterlife. If the soul goes on (remember, I really don't know), I am sure my uncle's soul is doing just fine now. He's probably having a beer and maybe visiting with the mother he never knew. I hope he is encircled by all those who loved him and preceded him in death.

Here's to you, "Unk"!

This is what I'm always talking about!

Many, many thanks to Francesca at Small Changes for this excellent article. It may make you feel uncomfortable, you may say "well that's OK for you but it won't work for me" but I think that stuffing yourself either WITH food or INTO the straight-jacket of dieting is what's at the heart of the problem.

#11

Some of you know my real name, and some of you think you know it.

Let's settle this once and for all: it's Wendy. Yes, as in Peter Pan. And I married John.

And yes, I do fly. It's just by plane. John flies too. But less often.

I Got Hysterical

This is only tangentially a food post. It's more a "if I hadn't been so upset it would have been funny" post.

As you know, I travel a lot for work and tonight I'm once again out of town.

Today, I worked in the city and then left town around 3:30 p.m. to go to work at a public hearing on a nuclear energy power plant. The meeting, which I'm working at tomorrow morning, is in a lovely little town that's over 4 hours drive from home when you have to get out of town at rush hour (as I did).

I'm staying and working at a centre that's owned by a union. They hold a lot of training sessions here for their members, but also rent out meeting rooms to outside organizations. The centre is right by the lake and a bit like a cross between a sprawling hotel and a summer camp.

I arrived around 7:30 p.m., very tired and hungry. The reception was closed for supper and I had to wait a bit before someone came to help me. I finally got my room key and was given directions on how to find the building. It was night, the place is full of twisty roads and the map they give guests was totally useless.

Looong story short: I had a meltdown. By this time, the reception was closed. I couldn't find my room, and I was hungrier and hungrier. I went back to the reception desk and buzzed for the maintenance man. By the time he drove over, I was literally in tears and hyperventilating. As I said, it would have been funny if it hadn't been so horrible.The maintenance man was wonderful, although I think I scared him with my tear-soaked face.

It was 9 p.m. before I got something to eat. The restaurant was not fancy, but my 6 oz. steak was perfectly cooked, the salad with balsamic dressing, served on the side, was wonderful and the best news of all is that, aside from the salad, which I polished off, I left a bit of steak, about half my potato and half my roll on the plate. I ate what I wanted, but didn't stuff myself. The only thing I did "wrong" was eat too fast. But man, was I hungry!