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Last year, after a lifetime of being uncomfortable in my skin (first because I spent years thinking I was fat when I was slim and then because I had gotten to the size I always imagined myself to be) I started the weight loss process, a fact I initially decided to hide from everyone but my husband because I didn’t want the pressure (even in the form of encouragement) and, honestly, I was embarrassed that my love affair with food had landed me in a size 16/18.  When my face started to noticeably narrow and people would ask me what I was doing, I would shuffle my feet and downplay the situation to, “Oh, you know, moving more, eating less.  So how’re things with you?”  As though dumping food was as casual or simple as breaking up with a high school boyfriend.  Food was never about nourishment; it was about comfort when I was down, a reward when I was up, an occupation when I was bored, a medium for my own artistic creation, but more than anything, it was a friend and a constant in a life that’s often been unpredictable, as are all lives.  Breaking up with food was more like breaking up with a first love and not because you want to but because you’re heading to different colleges on opposite ends of the country.

Though I’ve never had to quit smoking (not that I didn’t smoke – I was, after all, a teenage rebel – I was just fortunate that quitting smoking for me was as easy as not buying another pack) I imagine that dramatically changing eating habits is much like what most people experience giving up smoking.  Cigarettes, like food, are everywhere.  We can buy snacks and smokes at every grocery, convenience and drug store.  We constantly run into people eating or smoking.  And when our attempts to change those habits fail, we feel shame.  Of course, you can’t just stop eating; you have to learn to moderate the habit, as though smokers’ health depended on one, just one, cigarette a day without diving back into the pack.

Over the years, I had tried to modify my eating habits cold turkey but inevitably gained because of reasoning that went something like this: I’ve been dieting so I can afford a splurge like a candy bar.  The catch, of course, was that the splurges came more often than the dieting which wasn’t so impressive to begin with.  I needed a little professional help.

Low-carb or other restrictive diets were out – I knew that from the start.  While I was willing to modify my eating habits, I knew that any change that completely excluded anything was bound to fail.  I was reluctant to try Weight Watchers which I always imagined to be like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting populated by women who wound-bonded about being fat (“I’m Alice and I’m overweight.”  “Hi Alice”).  But then two of my peers gave it a go and lost weight in the double digits.  I spent a couple of weeks driving by the nearby Weight Watchers storefront, always finding it closed.  Finally, the sign was flipped to open and with my stomach in my throat, I poked my head in the door.  A meeting was in progress; the nearest employee was across the room.  I turned tail and ran.  In the parking lot a woman called after me, “It’s okay, you can go in.”  Keep your wound-bonding to yourself, I thought defensively as I locked the door of my car.

My intention is not to advertise for Weight Watchers though I did ultimately join online, never again to set so much as a toe in a meeting, losing 35 pounds (and counting) while still treating myself to ice cream most nights.  I’ve learned a lot along the way, about nutrition, attitudes about food and how to give up the shame while keeping my love of food - lessons I have included and will continue to include on this blog.  But mostly, my intention is the simple act of sharing my story.  I talk about my life because it helps me understand it and removes the stigmas that society maintains by matter of habit.  And I talk about my life because hearing my story, or anyone’s story for that matter, helps other people share their own stories which, I believe, helps them understand and feel better about themselves.

What’s your food story?