I can't get no satisfaction

Thanksgiving dinner is basically the same every year. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes/gravy, sweet potatoes, a little cranberry relish - you know the menu. The last few years we have been having dinner at my mom's house, and I have always known that something is amiss. This year I figured it out.

Dinner came and went. I ate my fair share. Dessert came and went. I ate my fair share. After dinner/dessert snack came and went. I ate my fair share. The cycle continued to the next day. I remained totally unsatisfied. So, I just kept eating. Hoping that I would consume something that would satisfy my craving.

You see, the menu at my mom's isn't exactly as I described above. There's no cranberry relish and there's no sweet potatoes. The two things that I eat once a year, and in my mind, the two things that would have made my Thanksgiving dinner satisfying.

Lie #11: If I can't have what I want, then I may as well have everything else.

THE TRUTH IS: a small bite of what I am really craving is far more satisfying. I need to tune into my cravings. Listening to my cravings and then savoring every bite is a much better way to eat.

ALL or nothing

I can keep a bag of unopened chocolate chips in my house for a long time. When the bag is unopened, I am uninterested. But the bag is open - and once the bag is open, it may as well be empty.

One handful, followed by another, followed by me at some point tipping my head back with the bag high in the air to drain every last chocolate crumb. So much for baking chocolate chip cookies. I suspect in some kitchens, chocolate chips are a baking supply - a staple for baking. Not in my kitchen. Not today.

It all starts innocently. In fact, it starts with self-control. I tell myself "I have not eaten a single chocolate chip so far. They've been in the house, and I have said no. No chocolate chips." Yeah, Me! Without missing a beat comes the next thought "yes, but they are already open, and if I don't eat them now, they will be gone." It gets better. The next thought is "I'm not supposed to eat chocolate chips, and I'll never eat them again, so I better eat every single one of these now because this is my last chance ever."

Lie #10: If I don't eat it now, I'll never have it again. (Sometimes telling you the lie makes me laugh out loud. This is an absurd lie, but in the moment I believe it with all my heart.) By practicing partial self-control (avoiding the yum-yum) for a period of time, and then succumbing to the temptation, I have trained my brain to believe that all or nothing is the only solution. Worse yet, the more times I do this (rather, the more times I have done this), the more I ingrain the "all or nothing" response.

The TRUTH is: I am creating my own scarcity. It is not real. I can have chocolate chips, or Pringles (mmmm...I love Pringles), or whatever I want right now. I have created a deep "belief" about scarcity by placing certain foods on an endangered species list. And because that belief runs deep, I have to find ways to trick my brain into trusting that this isn't the last time. I need to train my brain to be comfortable with delayed gratification. By postponing the "nothing", by delaying "never", I will teach myself to trust that "all" is not the only way to eat.

Speak up - I can't hear you over my food

I don't eat doughnuts. Actually I should say, I don't usually eat doughnuts. So, when I came home to find a fresh maple bar resting on my kitchen counter, I was underwhelmed. It was a treat from my in-laws, intended for my six year old as an after school snack. I was honestly indifferent to the existence of this pastry sitting in my kitchen.

And then, it spoke to me. It's true. First it was a whisper. "Hey there." Right then and there I should have turned and shouted "SHUT UP"...but I didn't. Moments later, like a pick up line in a bar, the doughnut said "It's been so long since we've seen each other. Come sit down, let's get re-acquainted." I'm such a sucker for a long lost friend.

My sweet toothless first grader has no idea what he missed. That tasty treat was gone before his dismissal bell even rang. So, where is the lie in all of this? Do you see it? Lie #9: I am powerless over food.

THE TRUTH IS...there were factors that precipitated the decision to give into the doughnut. Triggers lead up to the linguistics of lard and sugar. At that particular moment, I needed something - I was experiencing an unmet need. A void was needing to be filled and it just so happens that the maple bar was there when I needed it.

So, when you see me next week in the grocery store yelling at the cookie aisle "Shut up, already!", please stop and give me a hug. I need it.

I don't know much, but this I know for sure

Here’s what I know.

I know: Quick radical change does not work. NO diet will work forever. And adopting a radical new exercise program will NOT stick.

I know: We are overly critical and we love a numeric goal.

I know: It is common to yearn for quick change. We also feel that the quick change will give us “footing” to keep moving forward. I often hear that if we even try or taste particular foods we could spiral out of control. Here’s what I know about this – these are issues not about food selection, but about over indulgence. Therefore, we must address the overindulgence, not the food.

I know: Every excuse we tell ourselves, steals a piece of our personal power.

I know: We talk a lot about wanting a different shape – to be a size 8, to weigh 125, to fit into the jeans we wore before we had kids. But rarely do we mention that we want “ease” of mind.

I know: When I have seen people make significant changes in their lifestyles (me included), there is a “flow” that occurs. An “ease” of thought about what you’re eating, how you look, how you feel, when you’ll exercise. You operate “as” your healthy ideal. It does not require work; it is just who you are. This is our goal.

The Weight of Worth

There are two mornings out of every month when waking with my children is not my job. Those Saturdays are special. I savor them. Last Saturday was decadent. Rain outside made my bed cozier than usual.

I rolled out of bed anxious for a nice warm shower. I pulled the scale out from under the sink and stripped to ensure not a single excess ounce would be revealed. "Mom, can I weigh first?" breaks me from my Saturday morning daze. My six year old is standing in the doorway impatient to stand on the scale.

I adjust the scale to his "user profile". His previous weight flashes on the read out, followed by his current weight, and finally a glimpse of the delta. He is elated to see he has added five pounds to his six year old frame. I complement his new addition and we smile at the obvious blessing of a growing, healthy boy.

"Your turn mom." I adjust the scale to my profile. The scale diligently remembers my previous weight. Then, quickly shows me my current weight. There's no drum roll. (I would have appreciated a drum roll.) And, then the delta. "Ah, mom, you beat me! Six pounds!" He's beaming at me. Thrilled by what he sees as mom's victory.

Instantly, my morning is damp and dark. What I thought was a cozy morning moments ago has been altered. Lie #8: my worth is measured in weight.

THE TRUTH IS...a number is a number. That number doesn't own me, and it doesn't own you. Why do we stand on scales? I mean really - ponder this for a minute. Why? We know when we feel good. We know when our clothes are fitting great. We know. So, why bother with the scale?

I will not be measured by a number. There isn't a number big enough that can measure my worth. Therefore, scales are not for me.

Diet is Die with a T at the end

I HATE TO DIET. I hate everything about dieting. I don't like to count calories. I don't like to keep a food journal. I don't like to control my food intake.

I have been dieting since I was eight. I was a pudgy kid. A family member challenged me to lose 10 pounds in 30 days. If I lost the 10 pounds, I'd "win" $10. And thus began my lifetime of dieting.

I even start to think about dieting and I feel hungry. I hate deprivation. I don't want to go without. Writing this now, I have anxiety in my chest and I feel p*ss*d. Crazy, isn't it? I'm not on a diet. I'm not even contemplating starting one. Yet, just writing about a diet makes me cranky.

Lie #7 is that diets mean deprivation. Right? Don't you agree? This is a hard lie for me to see as untrue.

So, if diets aren't deprivation, what is the truth? THE TRUTH IS...I feel deprived because I am anticipating deprivation. It's my own fault, and it's all in my head. (Plus, here's the tid bit, because I cut my calories, my body is forced to work with less fuel. Less fuel in my blood stream from food means that my body has to get the fuel from inside my body. Part of what happens is the liver responds the way it's supposed to, the pancreas responds to the liver, and this chain reaction rapidly works its way to the brain...all along the way screaming "FEED ME!" Smaller, sublte changes would get me to my goal faster, without the overwhelming desire to binge.)

I will not be partaking in a diet any time soon. Instead, I'll be eating...a little less.

Eating Healthy is TOO Hard

Lie #6: Eating healthy is too hard for me to do successfully or consistently. (I love this lie. Here is why - you just read lie number six and your rational side, said 'don't be silly' and simultaneously you also said 'oh, I totally agree'.)

Over the last year, I have had times when I felt pretty cruddy. Several months ago I went to a doctor who tested my blood for many different hormone levels. Amongst the findings were that my adrenal glands were pooped out. My adrenals had thrown up their hands in defeat. I love quick fixes, so I was ready for my doc to say "Take two of these magnificent pills, and then ta-da, you'll be better". (Not to say that my doctor often uses the term "ta-da", but I was hopeful this would be the first). Instead, she recommended that I only eat whole foods. Nothing processed.

Okey dokey! No problem! I geared up for this major shift in my life by planning menus, grocery shopping, and changing habits I have had since I was five years old. It was hard. (Note: was). I did it for ten days, and I felt great. I could feel the positive changes in my body almost immediately. Super! So, why only ten days? Because I believed the lie. I had been telling myself it was going to be hard, and therefore, it was too hard.

THE TRUTH IS...eating healthy is easy. Your body craves the good stuff, when you give it the chance and listen to what you're body is saying. For me, it all starts with water. Water cleanses my palate. This means that I can tune into cravings - it's like my tongue is the radio station broadcasting what I am craving. Water also gives my belly pause. It puts my hunger in a holding pattern. (Tid bit: The body stinks at recognizing thirst, and sends a hunger single in place of thirst.) Finally, water just makes me feel like I am doing the right thing for my body, and psychologically, I don't want to mess up the good thing by eating crap.

Water, water everywhere, all I have to do is drink. Which means I am back on the wagon, starting by drinking plenty of water. I'll keep you posted on how I am feeling. Stay tuned.

Discipline Deception

It appears that writing regularly solicits discipline from the same spot in my brain that my restraint to healthy eating resides. ARGH! It's been one week since my last confession, forgive me Father...

Lie #5: Discipline is genetic and I don't have the gene. It must be, right? (At this particular moment, I am pausing with the hope that a booming voice will rain down on me saying "YES, IT IS GENETIC.") My husband is very disciplined; he has the gene. He does this thing where he makes choices based on what needs to get done verses what he wants to do. A stacking of need vs. want. He was probably one of those kids in elementary school that hurried home to do chores and homework before he went out to play. WHATEVER!

I, on the other hand, have the polar opposite gene. It is called the "I want it now" gene. Or in the scientific community, it is referred to as "insta-gratifica". I don't apply a hierarchy to my needs. I simply want what I want and I want it now! hmmm, makes me sound like a spoiled child when I put it that way. Judge me if you must. I can't help it. It's genetic.

Tall, non-fat, one Splenda added, cup of Truth

Starbucks coffee may have a double-use as a truth elixir. I haven't heard of this before, but it might be true.

Last weekend while sitting outside Starbucks in the early fall sun, my sweet friend and I were enjoying a cup of truth serum. It is the first time that I am sharing with her (really anyone) that I have begun posting my lies for all to see. She is encouraging. So much so, that she begins to share some of her lies, which she sees as common "truths" between us.

K and I are the same height, basically the same age, we both have two boys (who are the same age), and coincidentally we have both married men younger than we are. And, yes, we weigh about the same. So, when she says to me "...and, you know, we'll never be skinny", my heart sinks. Now that I am thinking back, I'm not sure she used the word skinny, but that's what I heard. ARGH! The words from her mouth floated into my ears, down my ear canal, and are registered by my brain. What she has said stings me in a way I can't properly articulate. I feel a lump in my throat, and disappointment fills the pit of my stomach.

I talk to people all the time who live on both sides of this particular lie (let's call it the eye lie). The one where you don't see yourself as others do. Side one is "I am bigger" than reality, and side two is "I am smaller" than reality. But K revealed another level to the lie for me...the "never will be" subset. For once, this is a lie that I am not willing to believe. I am not willing to buy into the lie that says I am genetically predisposed to be my current shape. My mom is a slim build, my grandma's as well, so why am I different?

I don't recall a time that I haven't heard something to the effect of 'you are just big boned'. In fact, I remember my dad saying (not long after he moved to Wisconsin, and we were discussing the idea of me living there - I was 15) "all the women here are bigger. you know, there are cold winters here; they need the extra fat. so you'll fit right in. you'll be slim by comparison". And yet, I'm NOT willing to believe this lie.

The Starbucks coffee may have eeked out a truth, but it won't make me believe.

If only

Sugar, flour, rice, dog food...they all come in packages of 5, 10, 20, 50 pound options. Just like me. Sometimes I carry the extra five, sometimes all 50. I never seem to be without my extra "package".

Welcome to my biggest lie. If only I could lose five pounds or 15 or whatever the number is, then I would be healthy, happy and whole. By the way, I'm not sitting here thinking 'I'm unhealthy, unhappy, or broken'. In fact, I feel pretty good. I'm fit. I'm rarely sick. I'm active. I'm very satisfied with my life. So, why must I torment and taunt myself with the illusive five pounds?

Does this mean that I am going to live on an endless treadmill? Always wanting different. A life of comparison shopping, but never owning the goods. Why am I allowing a number to preoccupy me? Imagine what I could actually accomplish if I freed up all the time I spend on diets, food, calories in and calories out. hmm...so much time...I could write a blog.

Take two and call me in the morning

Some mornings I'm lucky. I wake up before the house stirs and I feel lucky. I sit quietly (ahhhh, quiet) and I drink coffee and read. Today was a lucky day. I am drinking coffee black enough to peel paint and thumbing through a new magazine. It's not a weight loss magazine or a fitness magazine, which are often my rags of choice. I'm reading the one that was in the grocery check out line with the cute Halloween ideas on the cover and a teaser that reads "five meals in five minutes".

I turned the page and there it was, a two-page spread advertisement. The magic pill.

Did I mention I'm smart? Because I am. Or that I am in the fitness industry? Also, a true statement. And I'm still sucked in. I want the magic pill. Not just a little bit. I mean I want it bad. I'm far enough out of my weight comfort zone that I'm buying bigger clothes. The pill would be cheaper than more new clothes...so I want the pill.

More intriguing to me is that this particular "supplement" is being sold by a fitness professional whom I respect. I think this fitness person is reliable and has a good reputation. In fact, I don't see "SNAKE OIL SALESMEN OF THE YEAR" anywhere on his t-shirt...so I want to buy the pills.

I have a rational brain. My brain is quick, even this early in the morning. My quick rational brain says "no". Actually, I think what it said was "seriously? you think the pills are going to work? really?". And the answer is yes, I seriously, really want the pills.

Its not the pills per se, but the quick fix that I want. I want the 'quick fix no-effort required except swallowing a pill'. That's what I want. The ad doesn't reveal the cost of a miracle. I'm guessing it doesn't come cheap.

In the end, I've opted to not place my order or pull up the website to find out the cost. Telling myself lies about quick fixes and magic pills has subsided for today, hopefully bringing me one step closer to the truth - believing that I am the magic, not the pill.

All it takes is...$207

The cost of a small Irresistible McDonald's French Fry: $1.00
The cost of a new pair of jeans one size larger than I expected: $37.99
The cost of a fridge full of this week's "diet of choice" groceries: $189.00
The cost to reveal myself as a liar to anyone willing to read on: $207.00
Yep. That is the low, low price to start a blog and build a website, filled with stories of the lies I tell myself to stay fat and (un)happy.

I'm full. Stuffed to the gills. Can't take another bite of the fists full of lies I've been feeding myself. How many could there be? you ask. Whew! Plenty. Here's an easy one...

Monday comes every week - that part isn't the lie. The lie is "on Monday, I'll eat according to the XYZ diet". Surely that will be the right diet for me. Everyone is raving about it. And, believe it or not, on Monday I do as I had planned. Tuesday I stray just a wee bit. Wednesday is a little further off the recommended eating schedule. Then, Thursday! Look out Thursday, here I come. Thursday is one day before Friday. And Friday may as well be the weekend. Obviously the writers of XYZ diet did not intend for anyone to adhere to such a plan through the weekend. At the end of the weekend we're back to Monday - welcome to the lie.

Sound familiar? I know it does. I'm a health and wellness professional. A fancy way to say that I'm a personal trainer. Which means that I meet people everyday that are struggling with the same "story telling", "fibbing", and "fabricating" that I too struggle with. We're all experiencing the same internal chatter.

I'm here to reveal my lies. To share with you one lie after another, with the hope that you too will share, and together we'll find a way to speak the truth. No more lies (or french fries).