Messed Up Thoughts Around Food

A while ago on this blog post, I mentioned a comedy sketch done by Rosanne Barr I recalled from years ago. I am now viewing what she said through a new lens. Many 80’s moms were influenced (in part) by the diet culture in the greater North American society around them. And they were influenced by their own mothers. The result was many of them passed onto their daughters (and sons too) dysfunctional scripts around food. Yes, I have identified I have some messed up thoughts around food, which started with my mom giving me different foods (low calorie alternatives) than what she gave to my brother. But I am done blaming her for the messages I created around that, that I was somehow less than, not good enough, or not worthy, or that I had to change myself (get thinner) to be worthy of love and approval.

That was the story I just told myself.

But that is not the real story.

The real story is different, especially when I step back and look at with the benefit of different points of view. The stories I assumed about others were far different than I thought. Having some deep conversations with women this past weekend has taught me a lot.

Back to Roseanne Barr (I am paraphrasing from memory): “When you’re sad, fat moms are so much better than skinny moms—because do you want to know my advice? Here, eat this whole cake, and when you wake up from your sugar coma, it will be a whole new week.”

I met a gal over this past weekend who went on binges with her mother just like Rosanne was suggesting. Her mom specifically took her through drive-thrus or the store to buy her a bunch of treats. But then her mother would turn around and pay for her to go to Weight Watchers, saying “Your dad says you’re getting fat.” Upon hearing her story, I was heart broken on her behalf. Her mother contributed to both sides of the equation. First, by providing and encouraging her to eat excess foods. And then second, by communicating to her she was not good enough just the way she was, basically confirming her dad’s opinion that she was “fat,” by then paying for her to go to Weight Watchers.

I have decided right now to stop complaining about my mother, and what she did (or did not do) for me in terms of my food consumption.

And it’s about time.

It’s not like I ever thought I had it so terrible, or worse than anyone else. This blog is my story, my point of view, and I really only ever compared myself to myself. So for me, I wish for my younger self that I had felt that I was on equal footing with my brother, as to whether or not I was lovable in my current form. I wish my younger self had not thought that the different foods or different presents (chocolate for him, non-edible stuffed bunny toy for me) meant I had to change something about my body to be worthy of love. Because that is just the story I told myself at the time.

And now it’s finally time to change the story.

And because I usually go inward, comparing myself to myself, only knowing my own experience with my own mother, I had not thought about the other possible stories around food that other girls experienced with their mothers. And I had not thought about their fathers either. I knew they had a story, but it was easy to assume their story was similar to my story. Thanks to some shared vulnerability over the weekend in a large group of women, I know that all our stories are wildly different, even if the very same struggle was the same. We all grew up thinking we had to be constantly aware of our diet.

My dad never, to my knowledge, ever said anything about my weight. My experience was he was a neutral party, completing unaware of whether or not I was eating anything different than my brother. I don’t think he was monitoring my plate and what I ate at all. And I until I heard this gal’s heartbreaking story this weekend, I had not imagined walking a mile in someone else’s shoes where the message coming from both her parents, (and a mixed messages at that with her mother providing and encouraging overconsumption), was that she needed to change her weight to be worthy and/or lovable. Brutal.

I truly believe my mom only gave me diet foods and different gifts because of a simple truth: excess calories that we don’t otherwise burn off through our daily activity, will put excess weight on our bodies. I believe my mom was body shamed when she was young. First, she was body shamed for being too skinny, which in her experience in the 1950’s implied something shameful and negative, namely poverty. Second, she was body shamed for an unplanned pregnancy, and told to not come back (from her exile) having gained any weight whatsoever, “You better not come back ever looking like you may have had a baby, because we are going to keep that a secret for the rest of your life!” And then third, after marriage and two planned pregnancies, diet culture shamed her for not losing all the baby weight, and/or for “letting herself go” and becoming a frumpy housewife. Thus, she joined her first Weight Watchers meeting, and started a cycle of yo-yo dieting, eventually achieving a lifetime membership, but never achieving peace around food or her body.

I believe when my mom tried to limit my calories, she was simply trying to spare me her own heart aches around her own body that she herself experienced. She had no idea how I was internalizing the message. And I don’t think she realized (nor did I) that I was in part being driven by undiagnosed Celiac disease, which drove a certain amount of the desire to overeat because of nutrient malabsorption. I was overfed and undernourished, (and years later I have the resulting poor bone density to prove it). All she could see was my desire to overfeed, which led her to try some gentle restricting. She was never cruel, and instead provided all the low calorie substitutes I could want. But I snuck the foods that I was not otherwise “allowed” to eat, and got pretty messed up in my thinking around food. I was not naturally slender (like my brother), so with the extra foods I snuck, I gained weight. And yes, my mom paid for me to go to Weight Watchers when I was 15 years old. She was trying to help me learn how to shed the little bit of excess weight I could never seem to shake.

I have had a good amount of messed up thinking about food that I have written about on this blog. But I have to face the truth. At this stage of my life, none of my overeating to soothe emotions is my mom’s fault, or society’s fault, or even my fault, for that matter.

Because it’s not about fault.

It’s about choice.

I have simply chosen to eat foods, at times, for the wrong reasons, and it has led to weight gain, and subsequent dieting to loss excess weight, a constant yo-yo that has to stop. And I may still occasionally choose the wrong foods moving forward. I am not perfect, or perfectly intentioned, with every single morsel I put in my mouth. But I have decided right now to stop complaining about my mother, and what she did (or did not do) for me in terms of my food consumption.

And it’s about time.

Another gal, a childhood friend I’ve known my whole life, who was naturally slender and so was her mom, shared her experience also. I never knew her mom projected onto her a whole bunch of different messed up thoughts around foods. Sure, she never outwardly had a “weight problem,” but that was because she was constantly monitored and denied her own share of treats. She was expected to be the “perfect” daughter, and perfect daughters never gain weight in the first place. She said she was the only girl in her dorm at university who was sent there with a bathroom scale, so that she could closely monitor herself to ensure she did NOT gain the “Freshman 15.” She said word got around she had a scale, and random girls (no doubt with their own forms of disordered eating) would come and knock on her door and ask if they could come in and weigh themselves.

When I heard that, my heart broke for her too. Broke for anybody who ever thought they were not good enough the way they were, or that they were only good enough just as long as they never changed. An impossible standard on both fronts.

I have decided right now to stop complaining about my mother, and what she did (or did not do) for me in terms of my food consumption.

And it’s about time.

My First Follow-up DexaScan for Comparison

I am less than 3 weeks away from a 3-year (156 week) streak on RunKeeper. In the 14 years I have been tracking physical activities on that app, this will be the first time I have ever achieved a streak of consistency of this magnitude.

Therefore this blog post is NOT meant to be me complaining or wallowing in negativity. I am definitely feeling somewhat positive. I am simply processing my new DexaScan information by writing about it, that’s all.

I set the bar really high last year, go me! So, it was to be expected that us mere mortals cannot stay at the pinnacle of our health indefinitely. The fact that last year (at 54 years old) I had such a good scan, was truly a testament to my efforts in the 2 years (2 years of my now 3-year streak) prior to last year’s scan. And this year’s scan does not negate that.

Luckily, I had managed my expectations ahead of time, so I did NOT think this 1-year follow-up scan was going to show improvement. Despite my overall effort, I knew due to health conditions beyond my control, that maybe my previous A grade was headed for a B minus, (a B minus, like my French grade years ago that I mentioned here. I was still really proud of that B minus in French, because I knew the effort it took me to get it).

Well, on the Dexa I went down from an A down to a B+, so I am still really proud, because I know the effort it took me in the last year to still get that grade.

Funny story, (and I do think this is funny), the DexaScan provides a “biological age” that is based on your results. Last year I was “biologically” less than my actual age. This year I am still showing as less than my actual age, BUT the scan says I have aged 5 years in the last 1 year, omg! Part of me thinks that is a bit hilarious, because yeah, reading back through some of my blog posts, with all the different diagnoses I received, seemingly one after another after another, it does feels like I aged 5 years in the last 1, lol. Although this “biological age” is not (in my opinion) medically diagnostic is any way, shape, or form, I feel a bit validated. Because maybe not compared to other people, I am just comparing myself to myself, I have been going through a lot this last year. 5 years in 1 indeed.

In general, I know that my effort in the last year was “relatively” consistent as a healthy lifestyle enthusiast, (just like my mitral valve valve is in a relatively stable plateau phase, the operative word being “relatively”), and I did my best. My best effort each day overall, given the ups and downs of life circumstances each day, was still my best effort. Was I perfect every day in the last year? No. But did I do even better this last year, than in the year preceding my first Dexa? Absolutely, yes!

Kilometers walked:

1 year prior to 1st Dexa = June 14, 2024 to June 13, 2025 = 1176.01 kms.

1 year between 1st and 2nd Dexa = June 14, 2025 to June 10, 2026 = 1463.11 kms.

I must admit, however, the degree at which I lost ground feels like this optimistic and “relatively” stable plateau, with my body adapting to the chronic volume overload from the mitral valve regurgitation, cannot be all that “stable” after all. Which it may not be, but only 2 echos 6.5 months apart is just not enough data to support a definitive conclusion, especially considering I may have had the symptom of shortness of breath for maybe as long as 7 years. But there is not much I can do about it either way, except wait for my next echo in November. Sigh.

Anyhow, without bothering with all the minutia of all my actual Dexa numbers and how they have changed with this first ever opportunity to compare one set of numbers to another, here’s what ChatGTP had to say about it.

“Moderate to severe mitral valve regurgitation can accelerate muscle loss over a 1-year period, even if your nutrition and exercise remain constant. The condition places the heart into a state of chronic volume overload, which can trigger systemic inflammation and metabolic changes that can accelerate systemic bone mineral density (BMD) loss (osteopenia/osteoporosis) and appendicular lean mass depletion (sarcopenia).

Even when nutrition and exercise routines remain perfectly unchanged, the progressive mechanical inefficiency of a leaking mitral valve triggers profound neurohormonal, inflammatory, and hemodynamic shifts. These changes overpower lifestyle counter-measures, driving rapid tissue degradation that will manifest directly on a follow-up DEXA scan.”

(I am usually the type of person who wants to know everything on a subject, but lordy, maybe this was too much…Feel free to skip these next medical particulars, they are just for my records, my post ends here).

1. Accelerated Bone Mineral Density Loss (Osteoporosis)

DEXA scans measure bone calcium and mineral density. Moderate-to-severe MR triggers a systemic environment that aggressively strips minerals from the skeletal architecture via several mechanisms:

Secondary Hyperparathyroidism: MR-induced forward heart failure decreases renal perfusion. This prompts the kidneys to alter vitamin D and calcium handling, elevating Parathyroid Hormone (PTH). High PTH activates osteoclasts, which rapidly resorb (dissolve) bone to maintain blood calcium levels.
Hyperactivation of the RAAS Axis: The body responds to diminished cardiac output by chronically over-activating the Renin-Angiotensin-Aldosterone System (RAAS). Chronic excess of Angiotensin II directly stimulates the RANKL pathway, a primary molecular driver of osteoclast activity and bone destruction.
Chronic Low-Grade Inflammation: Severe valvular leaks cause chronic venous congestion in the liver and gut, resulting in micro-inflammation and the release of inflammatory cytokines (like TNF-alpha and IL-6). These cytokines simultaneously inhibit bone-building osteoblasts and accelerate bone-destroying osteoclasts.

2. Appendicular Lean Mass Wasting (Sarcopenia & Cachexia)

Advanced DEXA scans also evaluate total body composition, specifically segmenting lean muscle mass. Moderate to severe MR can accelerate a shift down the wasting continuum:

Skeletal Muscle Myopathy: Because a substantial volume of blood backflows into the left atrium with every heartbeat, the forward oxygenated blood flow to skeletal muscles drops. Even if you maintain weight-bearing exercises, this chronic tissue hypoxia restricts protein synthesis and causes mitochondrial dysfunction in the muscles, resulting in a measurable loss of lean tissue.
Transition toward Early Cardiac Cachexia: Chronic volume overload from severe MR alters your metabolic setpoint, shifting the body from an anabolic (building) state to a hyper-catabolic (breaking down) state. Elevated sympathetic nervous system drive (fight-or-flight response) dramatically increases resting energy expenditure, burning through lean muscle tissue regardless of consistent caloric intake.

I Prefer the Term “Healthy Lifestyle Enthusiast”

I am going to stop calling myself a life-long dieter, instead I prefer to think of myself as a Healthy Lifestyle Enthusiast.

Yes, I started dieting very early, learning to count calories from a little book and being given diet foods like SugarTwin, which was different than what my brother was allowed to eat. And I continued to weight cycle up and down, always “going on a diet” for the next 40+ years, yikes! That’s where I was getting the term “life-long.”

When I found out I was Celiac at age 40, that helped me adopt certain food choices that directly affected my health, with the realization that these were permanent changes I was making. And then again at age 48, I saw a huge health improvement going grain free, because there was strong evidence I had become cross-reactive to grains like rice. But I was not going on a gluten-free diet, or a grain-free diet, at the end of which I would go back to “normal.” Instead, I was making permanent and sustainable dietary changes, by finding foods I loved that did not contain gluten, and then those that did not contain grains either, and eating those and only those foods instead, for the rest of my life.

So, I had to become a healthy lifestyle enthusiast to accomplish all of this, and it is the same with a permanent reduced weight into a healthy range.

Moving forward, it’s not “diet obsession” driving me. It’s not body dysmorphia or living and dying by the numbers on the scale. I know that constant weight monitoring can look just like those conditions. But for me, it’s 100% about the daily effort I put into making healthy choices around food that I want to focus on. Just like with gluten free, and then grain free, it’s eating minimally processed and weight maintaining foods only, instead of letting negative emotions rule my choices. No “pass the bag of gluten free potato chips” for me. Maybe I shouldn’t self-judge, but I do evaluate my efforts, and feel better about myself overall when my choices are ruled by a desire to be as healthy as possible. My day does not land the same when it ends with an unplanned overindulgence prompted by wanting to soothe negative emotions.

Maybe it’s not a good thing, to self-judge at all, but I realize I do self-judge my worth each day, (because I conflated weight loss with being worthy of love), based on my food choices. I ask myself, did my choices today reflect how I valve my health? Or did I let negativity suck me down into the “what the hell” effect? I will be honest and just admit it. I have attached my self-worth to that effort I put into achieving healthy results. It’s the success I feel in completing a day of healthy choices, and not about the resulting number on the scale, whatever that may be.

Of course, self-judgement can be detrimental, but some self-judgement is just asking if I am making choices that support my identity as a Healthy Lifestyle Enthusiast, versus when I skip exercise and sit around on the couch all day, or eat something I did not plan. It’s normal for me to judge my behavior and say, “Hey, wait a minute, you are not acting in a way that aligns with your identity. You can do better than that.”

That’s also how I feel about my upcoming DexaScan numbers tomorrow. It is not about the actual numbers, just like it is not about the actual numbers on the scale. The metric is my effort, like what I wrote about here. And my overall effort in the last year has been very good, despite medical, and yes, sometimes emotional struggles too. Struggles are natural, as I have been working through a lot of identity shifting health diagnoses. Yes, it is an identity shift to find out things about yourself that you were completely clueless about. Some days I still don’t feel like I can be a person with heart valve disease, or osteoporosis, or hEDS, but it is my new reality.

In theory, your identity is your choice, but sometimes fate intervenes and changes some of your choice in the matter, especially when it comes to your health. Just like with embracing my identity as someone with Celiac, I am also a healthy lifestyle enthusiast.

Upcoming Reunion and Communication Struggles

I really like how this explains some of my experiences when I communicate with family and friends in a way that has often felt, entirely from my point of view, unbalanced or unreciprocated. I have walked away from these encounters chastising myself for being so needy, for always seeking validation, and for expecting so much from others in a simple exchange of conversation. The result is I end up feeling awkward and rejected and stupid for wanting something that I have not been able to communicate and then receive.

I am writing about this to give myself permission to not be so hard on myself. And to not be hard on others either. Some people cannot do deep, not because they don’t care, but because depth overwhelms them.

I suppose that is why I have turned to this blog in the last year to talk to the internet, but really, to talk to myself. To go deep with myself where I need to go deep. To validate myself.

I used to just stuff down all these feelings and unmet needs with food. It remains to be a struggle to not go back to that old maladaptive coping skill.

I have really appreciated this blog space to explore topics on a deep level where I meet myself, rather than expecting others to somehow read my mind and know what I am searching for, so they can meet me where I want them to meet me.

I don’t know whether this type of processing (which I have done my whole life) constitutes being on the Autism spectrum. But I have certainly struggled to maintain relationships, struggled with almost every conversation I have, and wondered if I could simply blame ASD, (which is higher in the hEDS population than in the regular population). This struggle for me is very internal, and in the last few years without using food to stuff down my bad feelings, I find myself just wanting to have less and less conversations.

Next weekend I am attending my second annual kindergarten class reunion. Yes, kindergarten. Well, almost all of us were in the same kindergarten class, so that’s what I call it. Our hometown had an upper land area called “the bench” that was subdivided into residential houses only, (no commercial businesses), with one elementary school up there that was kindergarten through grade 7, all in one school. We all lived on the bench within 3 blocks of one another, and we all went to that school. Almost all of us (except one whose family emigrated to Australia) ended up going through high school together also, and graduated together. It was pretty special to graduate with almost the exact same gals who you went to kindergarten with. Our reunion was basically only 1 day last year (with a few out of town guests staying a few extra nights), and this year it’s going to be 3 days. Even though I am local to where we are having the reunion, I am staying over for a night also, as to not miss out on the sleepover aspect. Wow, I am 55-years old and I get to go to a sleepover with these gals, just like when we were kids! I can’t wait!

But I am also dreading it.

Because it means I am going to have to talk to people, for a whole weekend.

I have already imagined a few scenarios where I fake an illness and cancel last minute. But I don’t really want to cancel. Truthfully, one of the only reasons why I won’t cancel is to ensure I get to be in all the pictures, and get copies shared to me of all the photos. Omg, you know me and how I love to take a perfect picture (that I wrote about here).

So, I will go, but I know that I just have to try and relax and lesson my expectations. And forgive myself for how I may struggle with how I communicate. And then try not to agonize too much about it for weeks afterwards. (This list is me, except for 4. Instead of going quiet, I talk too much and overshare, and then I really spend a lot of time with number 7).

The Definition of Looking Good

I came across this the other day, and it made me laugh. And, of course, then I wanted to do a deep dive into what it means to me to “look good.”

First of all, for me, defining any phrase is entirely individual, subjective, and can come with multiple meanings. It is far too easy these days to jump to a conclusion when someone says anything, really, unless we constantly keep ourselves in check by remembering we only know our own meaning, not someone else’s meaning. (Unless we ask them, and then they tell us their particular, individual, and specific meaning).

So, I’ll tell you my meaning.

Right now, I still care to “look good” in photos. And I have posed for wonderful photos at all my weights, up and down the scale, (that I wrote about here, never requiring before hand that I weighed a “perfect weight,” or I would have missed out on getting the photo taken). I think a person can “look good” in a photo at any size. But looking good in a scan or x-ray, for me, is the desire to get the all clear that things “look good” medically.

In the last 12 months, I pretty much have had more experience with this than I had had in my entire life prior.

June 2025 = DexaScan. Interestingly, my mom had a different aesthetic in mind when she commented my bone scan skeleton picture was “not very flattering.” Omg, I can’t even make this up, yes, she said that. On one hand, sure, she was “sort of” joking. On the other hand, she really was sizing up the spread of my hips in the picture.

I am assuming my hips were what she was looking at, because that was the body part that shows as somewhat skewed in the picture. This DexaScan skeleton picture is broken up into sections. which skews how it looks compared to my other DexaScan picture taken at the same time. But my hips were what my mom always pointed out to me as a kid. If I had just been “slim-hipped,” like her growing up, instead of having “saddlebags like my grandmother,” then maybe I wouldn’t have been given sugar twin and diet yogurt and denied chocolate at Easter. Yes, once puberty hit, my older brother’s gift was still chocolate, in fact, 50 Cadbury Easter Cream eggs. But my gift was a Gund stuffed bunny, no chocolate allowed for me. I still loved the stuffed bunny, by the way, but being treated differently than my brother based on my body shape and weight took an emotional toll that I am finally allowing myself to grieve and process, (still a work in progress, because I can clearly see from the photo below—1984, I am 13 years old—that there was absolutely nothing “wrong” with me at that age, but I interpreted the messages I was receiving that there was something wrong with me, and back then had even added a “fun” sticker to the picture in my old album).

August 2025=Echocardiogram. The ultrasound technologist said, “Your heart is very photogenic,” (which struck me, as it reminded me of what my mom had said about my Dexa). So, I asked her, what makes it photogenic? She said something along the lines of not being barrel chested helped, and having gaps between my ribs, allowing the ultrasound probe to send and receive sound waves without bone obstruction, which eliminated dark shadows. And a thinner chest wall and less tissue between the skin and the heart meant better ultrasound penetration, resulting in sharper image resolution. Cool.

October 2025=Bone Density Scan. Anyhow, short story long, I do care about “looking good” medically. And I suppose with purple (cyanotic?) fingers on the Dexa, which led to the investigation and diagnosis of hEDS…And then the Echo, which led to a diagnosis of Mitral Valve Heart Disease…And then questionable bone density numbers on the Dexa, which led to a medically diagnostic bone density scan and a diagnosis of osteoporosis…I just feel that my overall spirit took a hit with so many “not looking good” results. And truthfully, my repeat echo at the end of February was the worst yet, because it meant my situation is progressive, not stable like I was hoping for prior to that first repeat scan for comparison. I don’t worry about it all day, every day, but I do worry my next echo in November won’t be “looking good” either.

Speaking of repeat scans, I have my first repeat Dexa June 10. Yes, I seem like a glutton for punishment, but this is my first chance to have an opportunity to compare to my last year’s scan, (the scan that started it all).

But I must not let NOT “looking good” in this next Dexa, (and I mean medically, not aesthetically, like what my mom looked at, lol), bring me down in any way. I worked hard this last year no matter what the scan says. Even if nothing is better, had I thrown in the towel, it would have been worse. Like my French grade that I wrote about here, even if I get a B minus instead of an A, I know in my heart that I have still given this health journey my best effort, and plan to continue.

Great Photos at Any Size

My husband and I just celebrated our 35th Wedding Anniversary. Once you get up in these numbers, in my opinion, every 5 years are the big ones to celebrate. And we have managed to get a great photo for each of these years to celebrate.

And I have not always been the weight I wanted to be prior to the anniversary. I was a yo-yo dieter, so if I waited to be a “perfect” weight for every picture we took, I wouldn’t have this wonderful selection of photos. Yes, in the past, I have dressed up for a fancy picture, and then wished I had weighed less. But I could always admit I still “looked good” in a photo when it was true, regardless of my weight at the time. In fact, on the “My Story” page of this blog, in my very first entry down at the bottom from 2019, I wrote about taking pictures that year for Mother’s Day at a higher weight, and still saying, “I know that the pictures are very good and I look really good.”

One thing I really love is comparison photos, of any kind. So many times (not always) I decide ahead of time on a particular pose that would be able to compare to another photo.

For our 20th anniversary, we managed to time our trip with our travel trailer, driving from Kelowna, British Columbia, down to Mount St. Helens, Washington, and arrived there precisely on the anniversary of the eruption, May 18. That was the wedding date I had picked out after the eruption in 1980. For some reason, my 9 year old (at the time of the eruption in 1980) brain held on to that date, and I thought it would make a great wedding date. I used to joke: I had the date picked out before I had the guy picked out.

Our 20th=On May 18, 2011, I was at a higher weight, and who cares. I love this picture. I think I “look good,” we look good, I wouldn’t change a thing. What a trip, what timing we managed to have, thank you to the stranger, the other traveler, who offered to take our picture for us with our camera. Looking good standing in front of Mount St. Helens had nothing to do with my weight.

Our 25th=On May 18, 2016, my husband came home rocking a pretty savage hair cut, (think Timothée Chalamet in Dune Part 3), but we went out and did these photos with our sports car, so I could have a fabulous comparison photo.

Our 30th=on May 18, 2021, my yo-yo dieting continued, so I was up in weight from 5 years previously, but that is just how it was going at the time. Who cares, we took the picture anyway, and I am so happy we did. Remember these moments, live life to the fullest!

Our 35th=On May 18, 2026, we used our drone to hover in front of us and took this picture up on the back slope of our property, (which gives us a lovely view of the mountains, when we walk up there). Fun fact: for our 35th, I am wearing the same high healed sandal shoes as I was wearing on our 25th.

So, 20th, 25th, 30th, 35th, = my weight was up, down, up, and then down again. This is just the roller coaster of life, and I am happy to have wonderful pictures for each and every moment of it.

You Don’t Have to Lose Weight to be Happy

This post made me think. It was prompted by someone who has been shamed for celebrating her own weight loss, as if that has to do with how she “must” perceive others, and how dare she.

But her statement is true, on all fronts. We don’t need to lose weight to be happy. It’s an individual choice how we measure our own successes. And it has nothing to do with anyone else. But public declarations, well, they are directed at an audience, and the audience will have assumptions they make about the assumptions of the poster of the declaration.

Myself, I never judge bodies larger than mine, because I know what it is to be judged, AND what it is like to live in a larger body. But someone once wondered if I outwardly judge people’s bodies, because I certainly inwardly judge my own body. But really, I used to judge myself for a bad grade without ever giving a thought to someone else’s bad grade. What we deem a “bad” grade is so individual. I believe some of that judgement (maybe all) correlates to our effort. For example, like me with French verbs, omg, I worked sooooo hard for the B minus that I got, that I never, ever thought for even one second that my B minus was not the most incredible accomplishment ever!! But for everything else, yeah, I was very disappointed that my Master’s degree consists of 15 A’s and just one A minus. Rats on that lone A minus, could I have worked harder? Maybe.

So no, I don’t judge others just because I judge myself. Because for me, the metric is effort. I know my effort. I do not know someone else’s effort. And I certainly know, firsthand, the effort involved in keeping weight off. It is very…involved. Frankly, at times, it can be a very intense struggle, especially in our current food environment, when a box of grain free gluten free cake mix is just one click away on Amazon. It involves intentional choices every single day. I have not always won this war within myself, and so I self-judge. And on the other hand, I have celebrated on this blog all my wins in the last 3 years.

The moral of the story is really don’t judge others, and don’t assume self-judgment, or self-congratulatory either, has anything to do with anyone else.

It Doesn’t Matter, But It Does

No, do NOT choose number 4, even though:

“It doesn’t matter how well you eat, you can still end up sick.

It doesn’t matter how much you rest, you can still end up sick.

It doesn’t matter how strong you are, you can still end up sick.

It doesn’t matter how much exercise you do, you can still end up sick.

It doesn’t matter how positive you are, you can still end up sick.

It doesn’t matter how hard you try, you can still end up sick.

And chronic illness isn’t impartial. It isn’t biased.

It doesn’t care how old you are or what religion you practice.

It doesn’t matter how much money you have or where you grew up.

Chronic illness is hard.

We grieve our old life. We wish we were normal. We live life sick.”

But it absolutely does matter.

I matter.

And my attitude going into today is ALL that matters.

I can simply choose to have a good day, despite feeling physically crappy. It’s still a good day to be here, breathe fresh air, clean a house that is my own, eat delicious food, hug my husband, and pet my cat and dog.

It matters.

Living in the Future Instead of in the Present

Saturday, May 9, a better day and nice ride on the motorcycle, in the middle of a lot of crappy days.

Here we go again. I haven’t been feeling well physically, lots of painful bloating, for one. And so I started living in the future again. For example, “When I feel better [at an unknowable future time] I will do such and such.” And then entered into my mind my good old stand by: “When I get thin…then I’ll do such and such…”

Yes, I still do that in my head, prefacing future plans with “When I get thin…”And then I remind myself that firstly “thin” is an abstraction, because I can call myself “thin” right now, only if I choose to. But I must NOT want to call myself (in my head) thin, because then I would lose my excuse for not living in the here and now, and instead thinking of some unknowable future time when things will be “better.”

Of course, that means it is NOT actually be about being thin at all. What I really mean is when I get to be something I am not right now…then I won’t feel these bad feelings about myself anymore. Those feelings are ones that I allow to hold myself back from living my life.

I know all this wallowing in pity is not healthy. And it’s not very productive either. I am almost embarrassed to admit I am being like this. Physical symptoms aside, I can still choose my thoughts, and I am not choosing wisely, I am simply falling backwards.

And I am embarrassed to admit it. And that feeling is fueling even more negative thoughts.

For me, shame and embarrassment seemed to be conflated.

On my April 7 blog I wrote, “For some reason, doing the same old same old, day in and day out, feels like inaction, instead of action.”

That sentence has stuck with me ever since. Especially now when the same old same old seems to be achieving different results.

I re-read a quote the other day about shame. It came from a former blogger, (but her blog is no longer on the internet). Shame about regained weight may have actually stopped her from continuing her blog. Regain is difficult because it involves feeling like you have failed (embarrassment, shame) because you reached a certain level of specifically defined success, only to then find that “success” slipping away as the numbers on the scale climb.

Myself, I have been experiencing digestive problems. I haven’t been doing anything “wrong” that I am aware of, but my body is not staying in homeostasis. And trying to “right the ship,” so to speak, feels like such a struggle. It feels just like times when I have regained weight.

Of course, the numbers on the scale having been going up too, along with the bloating and chronic constipation. I have been ending up in physical pain, dealing with vertigo migraines (and new to me ocular migraines), just as if I overate something that will trigger my immune system (for me specifically—gluten, grains, chemical food additives, emulsifiers), even though I think I ate everything “right.” And the scale number just adds insult to injury.

It makes me want to chunk in the towel and simply give up trying. Why forgo any foods, if the end result is that I am miserable and bloated anyway?

“Shame underlies self-destructive behaviors:

-Hidden shame often drives self-destructive behaviors and other psychological

symptoms such as rage, avoidance, or addictions.

-Self-destructive behaviors often are an attempt to regulate overpowering, painful

feelings but lead to more shame, propelling the self-destructive cycle.

-Secrecy, silence, and out-of-control behaviors fuel shame.

-Shame makes people want to hide and disappear, reinforcing shame.

-Shame is created in children through scolding, judging, criticizing, abandonment.”

But I also read something else:

“You don’t control people.
You don’t control outcomes.
You barely control your day half the time.

But what you do control is how you interpret what’s happening… and what you choose to do next.

Your attitude is the filter.

If you want to change your life, it begins with changing one thing:

Your attitude.”

Ug! It’s so true. But it is one of those tough truths I have to face. My attitude lately has been a big problem. And all these recent physical symptoms are conflated with past eating behaviour that resulted in these same physical symptoms. Even though my eating behaviour is different now, (dare I say “better”), the result seems to be the same—physical pain, discomfort, and climbing scale numbers. So, what’s the point in continuing to try?

Is Your Nutrition Advice Clear As Mud?

“Eat vegetarian… no, meat is good for you.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat carnivore … no, you need vegetables and fiber.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat fibre… no, it feeds SIBO.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat low FODMAP… no, it starves your microbiome.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat nuts & seeds… no, fat and phytic acid are bad.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat fruit… no, citrus and salicylates are bad for eczema.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat fermented foods… no, histamine is bad.”⁣⁣⁣

The things that have worked in the past are simply not working…this week. But maybe next week whatever has got my system off kilter will clear out, and the ship will have righted itself?

Only time will tell. In the meantime, I have to NOT self-destruct.

Well, you look like yourself, but you’re somebody else, only it ain’t on the surface

You’re Somebody Else

Song by Flora Cash ‧ 2017

I saw the part of you

That only when you’re older, you will see too

You will see too

I held the better cards

But every stroke of luck has gotta bleed through

It’s gotta bleed through

You held the balance of the time

That only blindly I could read you

But I could read you

It’s like you told me

Go forward slowly

It’s not a race to the end

Well, you look like yourself

But you’re somebody else

Only it ain’t on the surface

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you’re making me nervous

You were the better part

Of every bit of beating heart that I had

Whatever I had

I finally sat alone

Pitch black flesh and bone

Couldn’t believe that you were gone

Well, you look like yourself

But you’re somebody else

Only it ain’t on the surface

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you’re making me nervous

Well, you look like yourself

But you’re somebody else

Only it ain’t on the surface (on the surface)

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you’re making me nervous (nervous)

Where are we?

Well, you look like yourself

But you’re somebody else

Only it ain’t on the surface

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you’re making me nervous

Well, you look like yourself

But you’re somebody else

Only it ain’t on the surface (on the surface)

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you’re making me nervous (nervous)

I saw the part of you

That only when you’re older, you will see too

You will see too