Boring Background Information, Part Two....

As I attempt to get through each day of eating as nondisordered as possible, I try to take a bit of time for self-examination and reflection -- of where I've been, and where' I'm goin'. It's really become a necessity for me in this process, and my journal here has become I believe a very important and intergral tool in my journey. I need to find and rely on more productive coping strategies than turning to food. And I'm grateful that I do enjoy writing, and have access to this outlet (I only wish I could figure out how to use the spell check feature. Oh well. C'est la vie)...

On that note, I mean to continue a previous entry I posted, several entries down: 'Boring Background Information, Part One'...

As I've stated, I began my dieting odyssey at the tender age of 11 years. What a tumultous time that was--6th grade. The hormones began to surge, the hair and skin got oily, and I became painfully self aware. Like, overnight. Until that time, as with most young children, I wasn't particularly self-conscious -- but suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was geeky, and tall. My posture was terrible. I wore glasses. And I weighed more than most of my peers, not a lot more, but enough -- and I began really processing this for the first time. And in secret, I decided to do something about it.

My sister is 7 or so years older than me, and by that age was already a dieting veteran herself, and a very vocal one at that, so I knew *exactly* what I needed to do. I simply made a conscious effort to eat less. My beloved hot school lunches? I resolved to consume only one food item off my tray daily. That might be just the entree perhaps, or it might be just the vegetable, or maybe even just the dessert -- but every day I chose my one thing. For the first time, classmates were eating the leftover food off MY plate. I also made a point of stepping up my activity. Never gifted with athletic skills, I nonetheless joined the softball team many of my friends played on (though I was truly pitiful, and pretty much hated every second of it). I rode my bike everywhere. I climbed incredibly high up in my treehouse tree -- a beautiful old hard maple taller than my 2-story home. I found special 'spot reducing' exercises in my mom's 'Women's Day' magazines to do. I also became interested in music and dance --dancing for hours by myself in my room to my records, in what I imagined to be in the ballet or jazz style. I was also determined to work on my flexibility, and before long could do the splits and put my head to my knees. All excess weight shed quickly, and I became... lanky.

I've always had a large frame, coming from hearty peasant stock as I do. My hands and feet are big, and my bones broad. At 5'-7", I wear a size 11 shoe. My 5'-10" husband and I can easily swap footwear (and frequently do). I don't remember exactly my height at age 11 or 12 (probably in the area of 5'-3"ish?), but I do remember the number '117' on the scale. I recall that no amount of dieting and exercise could get me below that number, no matter what I tried. And I did try. It was like a game, watching the scale go down. But it's as though my body simply refused to go below 117 pounds....

My hips were wide, even then, and my waist miniscule. Without the extra flesh, my hip bones jutted out like cleavers. I had an accident once, ol' klutzy me, where I fell on my face ice-skating. Actually, it must have been my hip bone that made contact with the hard surface first, perhaps even chipping it or something, because the bruise it left was incredible -- the size of a dinner plate, and rainbow hued, but in concentric circles --with my hip bone the 'bull's eye'. Kinda cool actually....

My weight went up correspondingly as I grew a few more inches, and I did go back to more normal eating at some point -- still, I remained averagely slim for a number of years. And I continued to stay active -- I either walked or rode my bike anywhere I needed to go, and roller skated, ice skated, or went sledding with my friends nearly every weekend. At some point in my 8th grade year, several of my closest pals got it in their heads to try out for cheerleading. I went along with it, though I had my doubts. I was not at all cheerleading material with my introvert self, and deep down I knew it. Still, I threw myself into preparing for the tryouts, spending hours every day in my backyard, practicing my splits and cheers and cartwheels. I got pretty good at a several of the jumps - including the jumping toe touch, a la David Lee Roth (I'm totally dating myself here --does anyone even know who that is anymore?). In the end, to my general relief, not one of us made the team.

At 15 I had my first Serious Boyfriend. A year older, he was angsty, artistic and moody -- in fact, he could probably have been diagnosed as manic depressive, and in time I think he actually was diagnosed. He was also very intense, jealous, and possessive --but all of this was lost on me, because of course I was In Love (insert big puffy heart here). He also slobbered relentlessly over me sexually for the year and one month we dated, for which I wasn't entirely prepared. I do recall being a willing and able participant at first, but he eventually became so demanding and all-consuming and freakish about it that it was really quite repellant. Happily, except for at least two very brief occasions (which to me didn't 'count') we always stopped short of actual intercourse. Thank god. Still, he was all over me, all the time. Ick. Finally I was so sick to death of him and his errant ways that I was ready to get him out of my face. And life. I tried to break it off gently at first, but he refused to let go. So I attempted to get increasingly firmer with him, until at last things got very ugly indeed. He harrassed me, stalking me everywhere. He'd call incessantly, and hang up. I felt like a trapped animal. This all culminated in a huge cat fight in the middle of my high school, last-period art class -- both of us covered in the paint we were throwing at each other, him pinning me down and me kicking and sreaming and scratching the bloody hell out of his face. What a scene that must have been. At any rate, he was suspended from school, and never bothered me again after that.

It was shortly after this that I recall going on another serious diet -- living on cottage cheese and celery/carrot sticks, because that was surely classic diet food. My hip bones began sticking out again. But, I refused to wear shorts....

My senior year of high school, I hooked up with another boy, two years older and already in college. By this time I was maybe around 135 pounds, which, for my height and frame is still pretty slender. I was much in love, and it seemed prudent at the time to perhaps get on birth control pills, as a precautionary measure. I took them for a little while, but was taken very aback when my weight suddenly shot up 10 pounds, while my libido took a nose dive. WTH? Even after discontinuing the pills, neither ever quite went back to their previous levels....

Somewhere in here I decided I loved animals too much to eat them, and began experimenting with vegetarianism.

The summer before college I worked as an intern at a local company. I remember chatting with the secretary, somehow straying onto the topic of food, and confessing to her that I could eat a LOT. She asked me how I stayed so thin. I remember my utter surprise to that comment, my mouth dropping open, and my own response. "But I'm not thin!", I insisted. Sheesh, couldn't she SEE that????

Oh, college. It was a blur of crash dieting and self-loathing. My weight yo-yo'd constantly between 145-160. I thought I was the fattest, most hideous person in town. My self-abuse knew no bounds. I was body-dysmorphic, or whatever it's called -- actually seeing fat where there wasn't any, or at least not nearly as much as I was thinking I was seeing. I was a slave to the scale, weighing myself about every two seconds. I'd go days without eating hardly anything, then get so hungry I couldn't stop fantasizing about food. Then I'd eat quantities of something crappy, with guilt. A date, a test, spring break -- anything was an excuse to jump-start yet another crash diet. There was also the general stress of school. I joined a gym, lifted weights and did aerobics. I took diet pills, and did a lot of social smoking and drinking. This was around the time I stopped wearing pants in favor of dresses and skirts. I went Goth -- wearing big hair, gobs of make-up, and black all the time. This was also the time I began flirting with Bulimia, and laxative abuse -- for which I believe I still suffer lasting effects (as in permanant damage to my digestive system. Nice). I hate to think of the punishment I put my poor body through. My soul too. What a mess. A MESS. And all so unneccessary -- I wasn't that fat! But my head was. It was a very dark period indeed.

Somewhere around this time, hopelessly mired in my obsessions, I also joined a few diet centers, including WW. Only the WW of Then was very different of the WW of Now. They told you what to eat then. Plus they had no idea what to the heck to do with my vegetarianism. Those were the days of Tuna. But I didn't eat tuna -- so, they suggested I substitute with great northen white beans. So everyday I'd eat my little measured scoop of white beans, out of a can, with my green salad, or whatever. Then it was off to Jazzercise class....

About a year after graduation, I moved to the big city to join my college boyfriend. We were discussing marriage. My emotions stabilized somewhat, but I was still prone to dieting abuse and still thought I was hugely fat, when the truth of the matter was that I had a fine, strong and average, body. It's so ironic and terribly sad that I couldn't appreciate it while I had it! (I'm not the only one though -- I've read this same experience over and over in other womens' blogs. What a tradgedy...)...

My timing wasn't perfect -- I moved to the city smack in the middle of a the big economic recession of the late 80's/early 90's. Jobs were scarce, and my finances shaky. I was homesick and depressed. My boyfriend broke up with me, throwing me into a tail spin. My weight creeped up to 165 - 175, or so. That was totally unacceptable. It was winter, and I was scared, insecure, unemployed and unhappy. It was around this time that I attended a free lecture given by Dr. John McDougall, the low-fat, high-carb, strictly whole foods vegan diet guru. Impressed with his teachings, I went on to read all his books. They were soundly scientific, affirming, and spoke to me. I looked upon the McDougall Plan as an opportunity to heal what clearly were my many 'issues' -- with food, with the scale, with my emotions, my health, my war with myself. New Year's Eve of 1991, I made to the resolution to go 'McDougall', all the way. I was vegetarian already, had even experimented years ago with the Diamond's 'Fit For Life' whole-foods program, so it wasn't totally a foreign concept for me -- besides, I was poor as hell and could afford little more than rice, potatoes, lentils, pasta, and onions anyway....

Spring came, and my outlook improved considerably. I finally found employment, working two jobs to make up for lost time. I had no car, so I walked a ton, just to get around, and took public transportation everywhere. I was eating very nutritiously, and felt healthy. And I'd lost weight, following my strict vegan, uber-healthy, low-fat, high-fiber diet. A LOT of weight. But I wasn't sure exactly how much. To wean myself from my dependance on the scale, I went cold turkey when I began the new program, and purposely quit weighing myself, because I didn't want to get caught in that horrible cycle of self-destruction anymore. I did know that my clothes were hanging off of me though.

I was rebounding from a number of things -- depression, isolation, economic insecurity. My break up, my break down. Spring in the big city, my first, was lovely that year. I felt fit and attractive. I was full of optimism and cheer. At one of my two jobs, I met a fellow worker, and we began dating. A whirlwind romance, we were in fact married a mere four months later...

That was nearly 15 years ago now.

To be continued...