Still Fat on the Inside

“Reject the the philosophy that is causing you to fail, or you will never succeed” (loose quote of business leader Claude Hamilton).

It’s been seven months since I committed to losing weight. Wonder of wonders, it actually worked and I am sitting here on a smaller butt than I was in March.

And it’s been five months since I began running. Tomorrow I’ll run 10K for the first time. The other day, my sister made an off-handed comment about ‘yeah, but you’re in shape’ and I went ‘ha ha… oh.’ I guess anyone who can run ten kilometres can be vaguely construed as in shape. I’ve never, ever been in that category.

But am I really a different person?

Most days I don’t eat sugar, and I eat my veggies and my flax and my sweet potato fries. I like eating that way. I feel good.

But then the next day I have unbearable cravings and I polish off a bag of chips. I did that yesterday, and afterward I was like “why the heck did I do that?” I know that about halfway through I’ll stop enjoying them, but the hand will keep going to the mouth just because… because why? I don’t know. I can’t seem to stop it.

A lot of things have changed, but some key things haven’t. I still love food far, far too much. If anything, it seems to take a more integral part of my life because now it is all about timing my meals to get optimum energy, and obsessing over if something has too many carbs or not enough, and feeling guilty every time I eat pumpkin pie at a family gathering.

I did that when I was fat, too.

I’m not talking about body image. I like my body, thank you very much. I’m talking about freedom.

At the time of writing, I am almost twenty-four hours into a day of prayer and fasting. No food. For those who’ve never fasted, it isn’t that bad. For me it is almost entirely psychological. I hate to not eat. I hate the dull ache in my stomach. I hate having nothing to munch. I even miss cooking… kind of.

It took me days to talk myself into doing this. I’ve fasted before. Last time I spent all day fantasizing about food, until at about half way into my late shift, I got dizzy and had to break the fast early. Today my work day was too busy to allow time for daydreaming, but now that I’m home, I’m considering padlocking the fridge and throwing the key off the balcony.

But I want to be free. I want to be free of my external weight AND this internal weight. I want the food monster to stop dogging my step all the way around the grocery store. Food was supposed to be one of the most innocent of pleasures. What happened? So it seems right to give up eating while praying about freedom from food.

At midnight National Novel Writing Month begins. I’m going to stay up, have an omelet and begin my next novel. I don’t expect to be free in an instant, but tomorrow will be a new day, a new month, and a new chance.