Eve Mayer
No one is perfect. And when you make any major lifestyle change—especially fasting and giving up the unhealthy foods you love—you’re going to fail sometimes. It’s okay, I promise. You can always get back on track.
One recent Saturday, I stumbled and fell off the wagon, too.
I was having a rough day. Years ago, my way of coping had been to binge on sugary and carb-filled foods, which took my mind away from my pain. I used food like most people used alcohol and drugs—sometimes in groups, but most of the time at home alone, in front of the television. Giving in to my constant hunger distracted me, and bingeing became an easy, comforting form of therapy.
Suddenly, that Saturday, my pain cascaded over me like a waterfall, becoming more intense the more it pounded into me. Panic enveloped me, and I became desperate for something, anything, to calm me down. Then it hit me: I could binge. Just this once—and never again—I could use food to stop my feelings. I was alone, so no one would know. I also had cash, so my husband wouldn’t be able to see the credit card bill, with evidence of the bender I was about to head out on.
If you’ve never been addicted to a substance, then it’s hard to describe the satisfaction—and, paradoxically, the desperation—that pills, liquor, or Twinkies can bring to an addict’s life. But as I stepped on the accelerator and sped my car into the parking lot of a Nothing Bundt Cakes store, I felt that frantic urge, deeply. I slammed my door, then looked at my car and noticed that I’d parked it at an angle. I didn’t care. I was crazed, ready to shove everything rational aside so I could get my sugar fix.
My heart sank when I went inside and saw six people in line. I didn’t have that kind of time to wait—even to put that sweet Bundt cake with creamy icing into my mouth. Luckily, in the corner I noticed samples of red velvet Bundt cake with tiny dollops of white icing on them. I sprinted over, shoved one in my mouth, and swallowed without chewing. Then I turned my back to everyone and ate another sample, praying they hadn’t seen me. Wiping crumbs from my mouth, I stepped back in line to wait my turn, noticed that there were still six people in front of me, and went back to the sample plate to devour two more tiny pieces of red velvet cake.
Then I scurried out of the store, hoping I’d become magically invisible.
You’d think I would have stopped there and headed to my car, but I didn’t. I knew that in the same shopping center was an upscale grocery store that had food samples laid out around it. I walked through its doors and started bingeing on every sample they had—from yogurt to juice to beef jerky to grapes to my favorite: the fresh baked bread and cookies at the bakery.
I knew I was temporarily insane, and, yes, I was deeply ashamed of myself. But I was out of control, so I pushed those thoughts back down and reached for a piece of pumpkin bread.
Suddenly, I heard a voice near me. It was faint at first. Then it got closer.
“Eve! Hi, Eve, it’s good to see you!”
I looked up and waved. To my horror, it was someone I knew. I was wearing no makeup and had my hair in a decidedly unattractive bun on top my head, and between those two things and my mouth stuffed full of bread, I should have looked like a monster. But I hadn’t seen this friend in two years, and I was fifty pounds lighter than the last time we’d met up.
“Oh my gosh, you look fantastic!” my friend exclaimed.
“Thank you,” I said, sincerely meaning it.
When I got home, I told my husband everything, from my pillaging of the samples of Bundt cake to my rampage through the grocery store. I cried as I told him how ashamed I was for cheating on a diet that had done so much for me, and I cried when I recalled how I’d been “caught” by someone I knew. As the tears flowed down my cheeks, though, he started laughing.
“Isn’t it nice to be told how great you look when you have bread falling out of your mouth?” he asked.
It was true. It was pretty hilarious to receive a compliment at such a low point.
We chatted for a few more minutes after I dried my tears, and I started to take account of what had driven me to binge the way I had. Talking with my husband, I realized that I’d had some issues I’d avoided dealing with. I had concerns over my husband’s new job, and my transition from a busy business owner to a consultant and full-time writer. I was losing my confidence and questioning my purpose, and those fears manifested themselves, allowing me to fall back into bad habits and let food control my life again. I felt like such a loser until I took a deep breath and realized: my binge had been just twenty minutes. That’s it, twenty minutes of ridiculous, stupid behavior.
That’s the lesson here. Even though you may have come so far—and still feel like you have a long way to go to be even healthier—you will always have minutes, days, or even weeks when you’re not your best. You are only human, and that makes you imperfect. You are incredible, but you are also fallible. No matter how much you improve, how much work you put in, or how much you think you have your health all figured out, every once in a while, you are going to get knocked on your ass! And that’s okay.
Hopefully you’ll only have small problems, like my out-of-control binge fest. But other times, your problems will be huge. You may suffer from a disease, sustain a major injury, lose a job, end a relationship, or care for a sick family member. Life is a persistent, unforgiving roller coaster. Your job in the midst of this wild ride is to remember that you are worth the effort.
It is a cliché, but you are going to get off-track when you start fasting. I mess up, fail, and stumble. But now, instead of beating myself up for a lengthy amount of time, I simply start again. I have discovered that skinny people, who have been mysterious creatures to me for so long, pig out sometimes, too! Skinny, healthy people eat bad food and good food, but they follow a system of eating and/or fasting that works for them most of the time.
So, please, when you stumble and wonder if you’ll ever get back on track, just tell yourself that it’s okay to start again. Every big journey begins with just one step, so don’t be afraid to get up, dust yourself off, and start over. You are worth it!