Gone - foods on the NO list

Thursday at lunch, a colleague and I both had tuna we were spreading on sandwiches . She remarked that she loved tuna but it took so long to prepare in the morning and I told her I just opened the can and ate it plain. No prep. Everyone looked at me like they'd never heard of such a thing in their life. "How could you eat it without mayonaisse?" they asked. "Isn't it dry?"
Well, the answer is I use dijon mustard on the bread and have layers of cukes and peppers to add some moisture but the truth is more simple: it doesn't matter if it's dry, I don't eat mayonnaise.

Mayonnaise is one of the things that I simply don't eat any longer and never think about eating. I remember a trip to Germany years ago where my DH and I discovered open market stands where you could buy fresh french fries with a side of mayo to dip them into. And so we did. Lots of times. I loved mayo - on anything. But, somewhere along the road of this journey, it met the axe.

I think of my recovery from obesity the way recovering alcoholics think about drinking - just don't do it - abstinence is critical. As a result, many foods and I have parted company. If you've read my earliest posts, you'll know they didn't all leave at the same time. I'm still dropping things at the side of the road - 2 months ago it was diet pop that got the boot. A mainstay of my fluid intake since the introduction of aspartame, I haven't touched the stuff for more than 2 months and don't plan to ever drink it again.

Lots of people say this approach can't work - that you HAVE to have foods you love as treats to keep balance - no one can live without cake. I know that a small piece of cake on Monday isn't going to ruin my life but the imbalance in my endocrine system is going to be felt for at least 48 hours and Tuesday afternoon will find me cruising the kitchen looking for another sweet treat. I've experienced this many times and believe that my "Just Say No" approach is the one reason I am seldom hungry and have few, if any, cravings.

But, you can't drop things all at once. It's taken my 4 1/2 years to streamline my diet to the 95% healthy one I have now. It took 2 years to get rid of deep fried foods - eliminating offenders one at a time, replacing things with low fat alternatives then pitching them too. That's been the approach since day one - reduce, substitute, remove. And then say no.

So, what's GONE? My colleagues were shocked to find that mayonnaise and I were no longer on speaking terms and were keen to hear about my self imposed dietary restrictions. I was having trouble listing them, so I decided to do it here for my own benefit:

• cream - I used to use 18% in my coffee - I reduced it several times before getting to black 2 years ago
• sugar - substituted with Splenda for a year or so then stopped using it - in everything. Yes, you can eat cereal without anything sweet in it - I've done so for 3 years
• potato chips - previously my absolute favorite snack - a 200g bag just for me please. There was no way to reduce the volume I ate so I tried low fat baked varieties - meh. Now I don't touch them at all and haven't thought about them for over a year
• white flour - it's EVERYWHERE!! Took 2 years to eliminate it - first through substitution of whole wheat where possible - now, the bread I eat (rarely) is 75% grain, pasta is whole grain, I don't eat processed foods so I don't worry about where it's hidden - I stay away from the stuff like a recovering cocaine addict stays away from her white powder of choice
• butter, margarine, mayonnaise - gone
• chocolate - unless it's a rare square of Lindt 85% dark - I don't bother thinking about it and haven't for 2 years
• chewy candy wine gums, jujubes, gummy bears - no matter what percentage of "real juice" they're made of - they're sugar and I don't need them
• juice - not counting the ounce or two of sugar free cranberry in my cosmo, I no longer drink it and don't miss it. I used to get up thirsty in the middle of the night so I'd stumble to the fridge and drink 8 oz of Orange Juice in a single gulp. That stopped 4 years ago - now I keep a water glass beside my bed.
• baked goods - in eliminating cookies, cakes and pies from my diet, I've discovered a surprising truth - unless it's home made of the finest ingredients, it just doesn't taste that great. In self defence, I don't bake and haven't for 6 months.
• syrup, jam, canned fruit - I canned my own peaches, raspberries and cherries for years. Stopped in 2007 - don't touch the stuff, too much sugar.
• take out - once upon a time, DH and I ate KFC EVERY Friday night. Haven't touched the stuff in 2 years although I'd be lying if I said the scent of it didn't make me want to eat a bucket on my own! I no longer eat any fast food - not even soup at Timmie's (makes me feel ill afterwards). If stuck without food near a Food Court, I'll get an undressed Greek salad with a chicken souvlaki spear at the ubiquitous Greek place.
• pop - my most recent break up - who'd have thought a 25 year relationship could be over so fast? 2 months and counting
• ketchup and relish - replaced with dijon and olive tapenade 2 years ago. A very grown up taste!
• bacon, salami, pepperettes - food I grew up on! Decided to eliminate them a year ago much to DHs dismay!

And so on.

What's stayed? Wine (red or white) and ales - especially dark brews like Guinness. Licorice - daily - I'm seriously addicted to real, black licorice. These are probably the only "empty calories" left in my day to day diet. I added skim milk lattes a few years ago (I drink my daily coffee black) - triple shot grandes - 2 decaf/1 regular - heaven in a cup. I also eat a dried raspberry, cherry and blueberry blend with a serving of almonds - dried fruit are high in sugars but these compensate with anti-oxidant properties and other nutritive benefits. Red meat - couldn't survive without steak. Robust cheeses - the kind that puts hair on your chest. Hummus,tzatziki and peanut butter - sometimes right from a spoon but more often with baby carrots. Every vegetable known to mankind. Every form of mustard. Any variety of fresh fruit - no questions asked. Grains morning, noon and night.

It's a full diet that fills me up, powers me down the road and restores me while I sleep. This, after all, is what I need and want from food. I don't miss what's gone but am happy, now, to have revisited the reasons I sent them packing.

Invisible

My friend first introduced me to the sad fact of "invisibility" a decade ago. 10 years older than I, she remarked quite candidly that she was starting to feel invisible as she reached her late 40s. Tall and lithe with the grace of carriage earned at the barre of traditional ballet, she had always had a physical presence that made people notice her. Suddenly, she knew she wasn't turning heads any longer. I listened to her lament and pettily thought it had more to do with her now matronly haircut and over-sized clothes she favoured than any loss of physical attractiveness but later, on my own, I felt my own pangs of longing. It had been many, many years since I, then 39, had been visible to others.

Some of us crave invisibility - and use our weight as an effective barrier against unwanted attention but that isn't me. An extravert who was a pretty child with a talent for acting and a clever wit, I grew up blessed with many friends and suitors. High school was fun for me - academically gifted, I was also naturally flirtatious and at more at ease with boys than girls. I had many dates, was a school captain and popular leader. The young woman that I was would not have been able to fathom a time when she became invisible.

But more problematic than being invisible to others was that I have been, for a long time, invisible to myself.

Children, stress, work, life - all converged to wear me down and food kept me going. As I gained weight however, I did not really see myself as fat. I became invisible to myself first. Like many people, I use what other people look like as a benchmark of how I looked. I didn't see myself as fat because I could always find someone fatter than I - they were fat, I was ok. I didn't consider that other people might have been using me as their own benchmark!!!

So - I was invisible to myself - truly did not think I was "that bad" even though every year brought a larger size of clothing (and, unbeknownst to me, sizes were getting more generous all the time - some of my 18s were probably 22s in 1978 terms!). Everytime I looked in the mirror, I saw curves not rolls. I saw cleavage, not fat. I saw myself as healthy, not obese. I didn't weigh myself so had no number to think about. I had photos, but quickly destroyed most of them as they caught me "at a poor angle" or "having a bad hair day"! It's startling to me now how long I went without really seeing what was there in front of me.

And now, I continue to have the very same issue. As of today, I have lost 77.2 lb. I am wearing size 2 capri pants and an XS sweater. My girls have deserted me and I'm wearing a tank top instead of a bra - trust me, no one will notice! My underwear is sized small. My rings have been re-sized, my bracelets are too big and, when I look into the mirror, I have the eerie sensation of my grandmother (who was a very tiny woman and whom I now clearly resemble) looking back at me. But - I don't see myself as thin. I am back to the old habit of looking at other woman for comparison - "ah, she's really tiny, I am not thin". It's not about being thin enough. It's not about wishing I were thinner. It is, crazily, about still being invisible to myself. I know people have poor body images but is it possible to have NO body image?

I don't know how to overcome this. On every intellectual level I know I am thin. But I don't see it. I worry that this may have a long term impact on my weight maintenance so I am cautiously beginning a daily weigh in as a way to monitor slips. I am looking for ways to help me see myself realistically and am hoping I get there soon. It's a very strange struggle.

Of interest though is that I am no longer invisible to others. DH is particularly proud to tell me my trip through the pub to the ladies room turned a few appreciative heads and I'm back to fending off unwanted compliments from strange men the worst of which was "I don't want you to leave but I look forward to watching you walk away" from some half drunk sleeze ball at Union Station - gross. This I don't mind - I'm still an attention hog (hence the blog) and the flirty high schooler in me feels resuscitated - but I do need to get over being invisible to myself.

Love thyself

Recently, while listening to a good friend describe her agony as she watches her diabetic daughter kill herself with food and denial, I had an epiphany. We try to kill things we hate: spiders building nests in the crown molding of the living room, mice invading the kitchen, mosquitoes buzzing around our ears and removing chunks of our bodies. These things we kill because we truly find them despicable, ugly, nasty and wrong. We hate them.

I knew when I was 221 lb that I was an unhealthy weight - I wasn't born yesterday - I know those french fries and Mars bars, fried egg and bacon sandwiches and 200g bags of dill pickle chips were bad for me the same way I know my head won't go through a windshield in a fetching way and that smoking is a chemical wasteland for my lungs and other organs. I've been raised in a culture bombarded with health information so I knew everytime I gobbled down another piece of carrot cake I was doing myself harm - I was killing myself.

It has taken a long time for me to understand that I was killing myself because I found myself to be despicable, ugly, nasty and just plain worng. Just like a mosquito. A really fat mosquito.

Don't get me wrong - I wasn't a writhing mess of self loathing - my suicide plan was well hidden - but everytime I looked in the mirror and saw my big soft belly flow over my pants, I would sigh in disgust. If others were engaged in chit chat about various body parts, I would roll my eyes and declare I hated my thighs, despised my hair, had ugly hands with broken nails - all negative. Trying on clothes in a trendy shop - hours of self loathing and despair. "I hate how big my butt looks in these jeans." "I hate that I am so fat I need a size 18 and this store stops at 16." "I hate myself."

Why on earth would anyone do anything nice for something they hate?

I wouldn't offer a mouse pooping in my pantry a warm bed and tiny glass of merlot. The beautiful spider webs and their diligent owners get no eviction notice - they get the abrupt end of a kleenex and a quick vacuum into oblivion.

If I hate myself - why would I do anything nice for me?

Learning to love myself has been a huge part of this journey. To LOVE my thunder thighs (man they can run!), to LOVE my beautiful blue eyes, to LOVE my raucous laugh that can wake the dead and my LOUD voice. To REFUSE to engage in putting myself down - if the conversation turns to a hatefest of body parts, I REFUSE to join in. I look in the mirror every day and tell my body I LOVE it. Yes - losing almost 80lbs means I have one whack of extra skin smooched around my belly - maybe I'll have that removed someday by a good looking surgeon (dream BIG!) but in the meantime - I LOVE that it's no longer full of fat and that a good foundation garment will do wonders! I LOVE my hair, I LOVE the way the tendons on my neck are visible. I LOVE my single chin - lonely though it may be. I LOVE the shape of my biceps and appreciate the job my triceps are doing holding those chicken wings in! I LOVE the shape of my calves - oh my they are sexy in heels! I LOVE my calloused, neuroma riddled feet and thank them for hauling me around all these years.

I love myself. And we take care of the things we love - grandma's Christmas china, our favourite cashmere sweater, our pets, our children and, ultimately ourselves.

I love myself. I will take care of myself.

We take care of the things we love.

Running with it.

About 5 years ago, I read an article in Chatelaine or Canadian Living magazine about a woman who, at 45 (my age then) decided she was sick of being overweight and took up running, lost at least 50 lbs and ran a half marathon. I read every word of her story, marvelled incredulously at her ability to set running a half marathon as a goal for herself - worried about the condition of her knees, skeptically looked for signs of insanity in the photo of her taken in full on running gear. The nasty person inside of me doubted the details, told me it was impossible and mocked my jealousy of someone who, seriously, had to be joking. Who takes up running at 45?

A year later, I started running. I had just begun this journey and was dedicated to my walking program but sometimes I needed to walk farther than I had time for so, I ran a bit of it to speed it up a little. My 15 year old border collie was up for it but my heart and lungs sure weren't. I could manage about 1/3 km before taking a km long break - maybe running 1 km in total over the 4 km distance. Those were heady times - even in the inevitable post-run asthmatic haze that sent me wheezing to the couch, I relished the memory of running those wee distances; I felt, for a brief flash of time, like a kid again.

But I wasn't a kid. I was an obese 46 year old with severe asthma, abused knees and a bum hip - I wondered if running "for real" was even possible. My misplaced pride kept me from seeking professional help at the Running Room so I just kept adding a little more until running a full km wasn't the end of the world. I told my doctor I was "running" - she had the grace not to ask too many probing questions but added another inhaler and suggested massage therapy and both helped.

Once I moved to Ontario where my asthma was more controlled, I even started running in the daylight. To this point, a year into my metamorphosis to "runner", I had only run in the dark. Embarrassed by my technique? Worried about fat rolls spilling over spandex pants? Not wishing to startle the neighbours? I'm not sure of my reasoning - I just know that I ran spring and fall and only after dark that first year and it took monumental courage to venture out during the daylight hours!

It took more than 3 years of running spring and fall to run a consistent 4 kms. But I was running! I started reading more about it and took the suggestions for pre and post run nutrition and exercise to heart. I lost more weight and running became easier. I started some new medications and got my asthma under control. I over did it while trying to increase my distance and suffered my first ever athletic injury - and worked through that and ran some more. This year, I ran through the winter for the first time ever and plan to tackle summer's humid swelter box by getting up at 5 am. And, recently, after all of this forward motion, I signed up for a half marathon - the Toronto Waterfront - Sept 27th.

This morning, I ran an easy 12km in an hour. While on vacation last week, I logged more than 30 km - DH riding with me on his bike to keep me from getting lost (and to take completely unnecessary "action shots" like the one at the right!).

It isn't always easy to lace up the shoes and get out the door. But like every part of this journey, I've added it so slowly that, without even noticing it, running is simply a part of my life. I continue to feel like a kid when I run. I also feel like I'm an athlete - ME, an athlete!

And I feel like revisiting my skeptical self from 5 years ago to let that sad, yearning woman know that it IS possible to set a crazy goal like running a half marathon at any age and meet it - no matter how long it takes to do so.