Some history to this chatty gurrlll…

Carbs are delicious! I won’t lie; I love ‘em! They made me feel happy, comforted and content. But for 7 years, I strictly avoided them (most of the time – I will explain in a moment).

By not eating carbs, I kept my weight at 148-153 lbs. I told myself that nothing tasted as good as being thin felt. For a while, I felt superior about this. But I was also slowly becoming resentful. I would have to bring my own food to family gatherings. I couldn’t partake in office potlucks and instead, nibbled on “safe” foods. I held strictly to my eating plan, except for 2 meals a week, when I allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted to. And boy, did I eat! In fact, I binged. I ate all the things I had avoided all week and craved. I would become so full, it hurt. I was afraid I might throw up (I never did). I could sometimes use these meals for times like extended family dinners, but I would find myself frustrated when I didn’t feel like I was eating “all that I could and deserved” to eat. I was pretty much starving myself every week, and binging twice a week. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but I didn’t know how to get off the train. Because it kept me thinner than I had been in years.

After I turned 40, the weight creeped up ever so slightly. Enough to give me a shiver of fear that I would return to my previous 197 lbs of misery. I still starved/binged, and the weight stabilized, but stayed higher than before. Then I turned 41, then 42… and it creeped up a little more. It stopped at 169 lbs. I was horrified. Now I was starving/binging but for what? For 169 lbs?? Not fair!!

And then we renovated our kitchen and both bathrooms. I managed to stay on my eating plan for about a week and half into the reno, and then it all fell apart. I was soo hungry! And stressed! I ate a little take out, then more, and the next thing I knew, all bets were off! Everything tasted SO GOOD! As the renos progressed, so did my pant size. I bought bigger pants, convincing myself that this is as big as I will get. But alas, I soon had to buy even bigger pants. Before long, I was afraid to step on the scale. I guessed my weight was about 210 lbs. I gritted my teeth and got on that scale one morning. I wasn’t far off: 207 lbs. Damn gurrrl!!

So now what? I felt such shame. And embarrassment. What had I done? People who hadn’t seen me for a while, tried to disguise their shock. I saw their eyes widen and they politely tried to hide it. My husband thinks I’m imagining this, but women are generally more intuitive than men. I saw the widening of eyes too many times to discount it. I felt for some reason, I had to explain. “We are renovating right now. Too much take out. I got a little juicy!” I would joke, trying not to flush. Eventually, I ran out of running into people who hadn’t seen me, and it just became my norm.

Should I try intermittent fasting? Should I try flavour-pairing? Weight Watchers? Herbal Magic? Laxatives?

I told myself to get a grip! I knew what had to be done. So I put myself back on that previous eating plan. For 24 straight days, I ate zero carbs, zero dairy, zero sugar…. And yes, the scale moved – quite quickly at first! I got down to 194 lbs. Then it slowed, and the weight bounced up a bit, then moved down, and repeat. That brings us to Christmas 2019. When I caved. All those carbs and sugary treats! I regained all of the weight I had just lost. Sigh….

In January 2020, I told myself sternly to get back on track girl! You’ve done this before and you can do it again! But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t bring myself to go back to starving and binging. It didn’t feel right. But my size made me embarrassed, ashamed, uncomfortable…..

A friend asked me to join a gym with her and so I did. The first workout left me sweaty, sore….and jubilous! I felt proud and happy, and I had burned off all of my stress and anxiety. I had missed exercise and the way it made me feel like a badass. For the next 3 weeks, we went 3 times a week to bootcamp and Zumba classes. We had a blast! But I hadn’t weighed myself during all of that time. In fact, I felt larger than ever. WTF?!

Another one of my friends explained that my muscles were swelling with the exercise, and my body was trying to adapt to what was going on, and it would straighten out. But I’m impatient!

While adding exercise made me feel great, it also made me extra hungry. So I was eating MORE, not less, and also found myself eating something sugary right before the gym to prevent a low blood sugar episode. I felt out of control.

I googled gastric bypass surgery. Yes, I did. I had to know. If I couldn’t control my food cravings, then I would look into something like this, that would force me to stop eating so much. I found the criteria I would have to meet to qualify for gastric bypass. Apparently, I’m not fat enough. At least, not by Canadian standards. The thought briefly crossed my mind of eating myself into the morbidly obese range, to qualify me for gastric bypass. I gave my head a shake; what the hell was I thinking? Damn it!

I need help. I don’t know how to do this. As the days went by, I told myself each morning, okay today I’m going to get it together. I won’t eat many carbs today. And I would be pretty much okay, until around 3pm. Then I would start to struggle. Sometimes, I would win but most often, I wouldn’t. And once I had one bite, I would succumb to so much more, since I’ve already “ruined myself.”

My knees hurt. I have a hard time putting on shoes because of the size of my stomach. I still shock myself when I look in the mirror, and see the size of my stomach, butt and thighs. I just want to eat a box of laxatives and resign myself to the bathroom in shame.

About a month ago, my doctor’s office called out of the blue and left a message. I had asked my doctor about a weight loss clinic last summer, and she was going to refer me to one. I hadn’t heard back, so I figured she had gotten busy and forgotten. And, to my fault, I never bothered to follow up. So the phone message she had left was her apologizing for the long delay. She had had some trouble finding a weight loss clinic that didn’t charge for a consultation. But she had found one and had made me a referral. I could expect a phone call from the clinic soon.

Ha! I thought. No need for that. EX-LAX to the rescue! But despite my determination to shit myself thin, I found myself googling The Wharton Clinic. And as I read online about food addiction, a glimmer of hope sparked in my tummy (no girl, not hunger! That’s hope you feel!). I began to feel excited and motivated to read about a physical reaction taking place when I eat carbs and sugar, and being unable to stop myself. Whoa! Yup, that’s me! One of the therapists herself had had food addiction, and she had gotten it under control and lost 100 pounds. Inspiration!!

Now there’s a deep, dark, nasty part of me that says, “You don’t belong there. You aren’t obese. You aren’t as large as those other people. I don’t know why they are the size they are – genetics, meds – but you certainly aren’t as large as them.” And another part of me says, “You are taking a spot that could be used for someone who needs it more than you. You are selfish and undeserving to be here.”

Whoa, stop right there. That voice needs to shut the hell up. I am overweight. I am unhealthy. Both my parents have just had heart attacks less than a month apart. I am not immortal. I am not “not fat enough” for that clinic. That clinic, in fact, is exactly what I need. So shut up deep, dark and nasty voice. You don’t belong here. Get the f out! Get out of my way. I have work to do.