Yeah, I know that doesn’t look right, but you’ll catch on quickly.
I’ve struggled with my weight since I was very very young. Though I don’t remember a ton about my childhood, I know I snuck food and ate hiding in my bedroom. If I close my eyes, I can picture the kitchen in my childhood home, and the exact location and drawer where the snacks were kept. I can remember how I learned to hide food wrappers in my trashcan, and sometimes in the trashcan in the kids’ shared bathroom. I remember the shame, but the feeling of urgent need to eat when I wanted to eat. Unfortunately, it was always snack-food that I ate. I’m not sure if I thought my mother kept less track of that food than what was in the refrigerator, I only remember thinking the fridge was off limits.
I don’t ever remembering “binge eating” as a child. I only remember eating junk food as often as I could find it and sneak off with it. Back then, there wasn’t this huge push to eat healthy, non-junk food type food. The snacks we had were cheap–because money was in short supply in our home–and plentiful. From memory, I would say that I always leaned toward sweet snacks, not salty ones. And my weight was always over the average for my age. Many times, I thought of how I weighed more than my older brothers. It sucked, but I was never able to get it under control.
In my pre-teen years, my parents sent me to fat camp. I hated it. It didn’t work. I continued to eat and gain weight. These days, I don’t suspect anyone would be surprised by that, as fat camps don’t work. Restricting a kid’s food for two weeks, a month, two months…it’s a waste of time and bound for rebound effects. As an adult just starting college, I joined a local gym and went for months. I enjoyed it, but probably because I went in the middle of the morning and the place was basically empty. I was able to walk on a track in a climate-controlled environment, listening to my walk-man, burning some mad calories. I used the weight equipment here and there, and I lost some weight. Later, when I was working full-time while I was part-time in college, I got a treadmill at home. I walked on that sucker, kept notes, and lost weight again. I was down to a weight that made me happy–to some extent. I was below 200lbs, and felt like I had curves–hips and boobs–that men would like. I met my now-husband at that point, and we started dating. I actually got sick with mono and strep throat at the same time, and landed myself in the hospital for the first time in my life. I got stuck in both hips, repeatedly, with Demerol for several days for pain relief while I was in the hospital. When I got home, they told me to take it easy, and my treadmill days went by the wayside. And boyfriend/hub and I went out to eat all the time. That poor guy…he was whip-thin when I met him. Not so much after we met. *sigh* <insert guilt ridden feelings here>
In my post Weight for it, I mentioned how I put on some weight after Butthead arrived. She changed my daily schedule, changed my regular routine, and I still have not recovered. And since she’s been here–and since that post–I’ve put on even more weight. It’s frustrating and upsetting, and I can’t seem to get back to where I was. I try to pay good attention to what I’m eating, but the obsession is difficult for me to handle. I can’t seem to moderate without going overboard. I’d like to figure this out, it’s not a fun place to be. I have a lot of stupid food issues.
I see my nutritionist tomorrow…the one who has helped me with my heartburn issues. I’m taking probiotics and digestive enzymes (which have their own “trauma” attached to them, sadly), which have worked a treat for the most part. But it has almost meant that I’ve been able to eat food more easily, which I’m sure has lead to some of the weight gain. I know I have an issue with carbs, as I tend to gain weight easily with carbs, but I can’t go carb-free because my body turns on me, physically and mentally. Here’s hoping the nutritionist will give me a path to get on that will keep me from obsessing over anything and helps me lose some of the weight.
Meanwhile, I’m biking for twenty five minutes, five days a week. And I’m biking at a good clip, too… and it’s made not one iota of difference with my weight. Which blows chunks. I don’t understand how that’s possible, which is partly why I’m hoping the nutritionist will be able to help me figure things out.
Also, it’s fucking cold outside. Just an FYI.