New day. New week. Almost new month. Close to new year. What better time to put my life in order again? Why wait till I’ve gained back every hideous pound of blubber? If I dig in my heels, I’ll have to lose only ten of those pounds over again. That’s right, folks, I’m up ten frightful pounds since October 13. I can feel it. I can see it. I can touch it. I can hate it!
Everyone else can see it, too. Last night at our annual Lind family Christmas gathering, no one told me how good I was looking. No one asked me how much more weight I’d lost. Why not? Because they knew I was up a few pounds.
Food has made my body ten pounds uglier, my nights uncomfortable, my clothes too tight, and my stomach feel constantly bloated like an overblown balloon ready to pop! No, that is not true. Let me rephrase that sentence. Food has not made me experience any of that. I have voluntarily allowed food — the enemy—to invade my body, my life, and do the damage. I must not forget that it is I, and only I, who willingly opens the door. Gee whiz, for the last few weeks, I have flung wide the double doors. I have laid down the welcome mat, rolled out the red carpet, put up signs announcing, “This is the place. All candies, cookies, fudge, brownies, sandwiches with cream cheese and heavy mayo, ice cream, pastries, and anything else with over 100 calories per bite… come on down!”
Rip! Thwing! Yank! Bang! Did you hear it? Well, folks, I did it. I tore up those nasty ol’ signs, rolled up the red carpet, took in the welcome mat, and slammed those doors tight. Now listen to this: Scrape, click, rattle rattle! I bolted those double doors, locked them shut, and drew a huge chain across them. Any sweet thing that gets past my security system will be so mangled and unappetizing, it will never be worth the calories.
So — deep breath — today, I will make the effort. Tomorrow, I will be thinner… and happier. So will my poor family, my poor, dear Allen.
Back to last night. Remember how I said no one told me how good I was looking? Well, partly it was because I’m not looking too good. But it was also because it’s hard to bring yourself to compliment someone’s weight loss if you have recently gained several pounds yourself! Looking at my family, it was obvious that I was not the only one who had gained a few pounds in the past several weeks. Now, I said that as sweetly as possible. We are one big family. And I don’t mean just in numbers. I am trying desperately to break this cycle of obesity.
I had promised my children and Allen that I would not eat one sweet thing last night at the Lind family gathering. The fact that I brought up the subject shows I wanted to control my eating. It shows that I was struggling. It was my way of pleading for help. I am not angry, but if only one member of my family had stayed by my side, showed me they cared, reminded me of my commitment, I could have come home from that family gathering proud of myself. Why doesn’t anyone regard my obesity as the sickness it is? Why do my children and husband make me walk this miserable road alone? When they are sick, I take them to the doctor. When will someone try to understand and help me?
I have strayed from my subject. Back to the Lind family gathering. I stayed near the food in the kitchen most of the night because that’s where nearly everyone was. In the kitchen. Yikes! Is there a message here, or what?
Thankfully, I showed some self-control. I kept repeating to myself, “It will be gone in the morning. Whatever I eat tonight, the taste will be gone in the morning.” Yet I still ate too much. And the taste is gone, but not the calories. Not the fatty globules. Not the shame. My only comfort is knowing I’ve done worse in the past.
I worry about the children. I saw my nieces — skinny, beautiful little creatures — sitting on chairs directly in front of the food table, their plates piled high with nothing but desserts. Nothing but desserts because that’s almost all that was brought to the family gathering. Skinny, beautiful little girls. Do they even have a chance at staying that way?
Once again, last night, I determined that I will at least give my skinny, beautiful daughters a chance. I will get control of me. I will break the vicious chain of heredity and environment.
A few days ago, I watched Sally Jessy Raphael. She seems to be a kind person. Her guests were couples who were experiencing difficulties in their marriages because of a partner’s weight loss. It was interesting. (Ha! As I typed that last sentence, a mental picture flooded my mind. I was back in my kitchen watching Sally’s show on weight loss… while baking chocolate chip cookies! That’s the story of my life!)
During this program there were some unusually honest comments made about obesity. At the end of the show, Sally took the mike to a sister of one of the lady guests who had lost weight.
Sally: “As the sister of an overweight person, how do you feel about all this?”
Sister: “I’m the thin one in the family. I always have been. I wish that people would forget about weight and get on with their lives.”
Big applause from the audience. Like the sister had said something profound. “Forget about weight and get on with your life.” To some people I’m sure that sounded realistic, even clever. I wanted to scream out to the audience, “But don’t you see? Don’t you get it? Obesity prevents one from getting on with life. Obesity keeps a person from the kind of life he wants. Almost all physical activity is out of reach of the fat person. Please tell me how one goes about ‘getting on with life’ when one can’t even get into one’s jeans?” We obese people must continue our day-to-day living; we have no choice. But we can’t forget about our weight. It is a noose around our necks and the rest of our bodies—an ugly, fatty, fleshy noose!