I first started Weight Watchers when I was sixteen years old. I wanted to lose about thirty pounds. I lost that weight easily and quickly and felt beautiful, sexy, and healthy. I swore by that program, as it worked for me. It changed my life.
Twenty-nine years later, I still have the WW app on my phone, and I recently prepaid for six months. It has always been my “go-to” program when I wanted to get back on the wagon. I have since rejoined Weight Watchers/WW at least a dozen times having lost seventy-five pounds in eleven months right before I became pregnant with Lincoln. I always lost weight on the program. In that sense, the program really works. Every time I joined and rejoined and ate within my allotted points, I lost weight without fail. The problem is I would always gain back the weight I lost and then some.
Over the years, I tried about a dozen different diets and weight loss programs and initially I always lost weight. I’ve worked with many life coaches, nutritionists, dieticians, and personal trainers all to no avail. I’ve joined gyms, purchased exercise videos, and taken weight loss supplements all to lose some weight and then gain more back. I had no issue losing the weight. I just couldn’t keep it off and I didn’t fully understand why. My therapist would tell me that restricting foods doesn’t work, that it will only trigger more binges. The thing is, I didn’t fully believe I even had an eating disorder. I thought that was only for “skinny” people. I thought I had to be anorexic or purge after every meal to be diagnosed with an eating disorder.
Several years after my diagnosis, I remember walking into therapist’s office and telling her, “I think I have an eating disorder.”
“What makes you say that, Val?” she responded, as if she had never diagnosed me with this eating disorder years earlier.
“I can’t stop eating even when I’m full. I buy food to eat when I’m alone. I stop off on my way home from work, buy a bunch of food I shouldn’t be eating, and eat it all in the car. Then, I’ll throw away all the evidence before I get home,” I confessed.
“How often do you do this?”
I contemplated. “I don’t know. I guess two or three times a week, sometimes more.”
“I’m glad you are able to see it, Val,” she answered warmly and without judgment, allowing me to comes to terms with it on my own time.
Since then, which was almost ten years ago at this point, I continued to diet and engage in bouts of exercise. I lost weight, gained it all back, and spent thousands of dollars trying to lose the excess one-hundred plus pounds I have gained and regained over the years. I focused on the types of food and amount of food I was eating. I focused on the food. Therein lies the problem.
For so many years I focused on a symptom, not the cause. I focused on a side effect and not the root of the issue.
The weight is not the problem. The weight is a result of binge eating, which was how I coped with the anxiety and different emotions I would feel. I have to treat the BED and anxiety if I want the weight to come off for good. My therapist used to say to me that once I started to love myself and stop turning to food for comfort that the weight would just naturally come off. I didn’t understand that then, but I do now.
So here I am. 31 days binge-free. This has been a rough week. I’m craving food, especially sugar. My grandmother passed away this past Sunday and I’m feeling sad, angry, anxious, and overwhelmed, and to escape those feelings, I want to eat so I can bury them. Yet, this time I didn’t give into those cravings because I know I can’t stuff those feelings down forever. I know that they will continue to surface until I process them. If I binge, not only will the feelings definitely return, but I will also feel the guilt and shame that follows every binge. So, I fight. I carry on. I cry. I scream. I sit with the heavy chest. I feel it, all of it, knowing that the feelings are temporary and will eventually pass.
I’m not dieting, though. And I’m doubting myself. The weight is definitely not coming off as quickly and easily as it would when I would restrict it omit certain foods. I’m not weighing myself either because that’s also part of the diet mentality, but after a month, my clothes are still fitting me the same. And I consider starting to count points again.
I see people posting on social media about losing a significant amount of weight in a short period of time and that is so tempting to me. I want to so badly contact them and inquire about the programs, but I know I can’t. I know that would be taking a step backwards. I know that I am healing my relationship with food and that another “diet” is not the answer. That would only be treating the symptom and not the cause. No more diets, plans, or systems. No more diet mentality.
So many times today I walked into the kitchen and stared at the cakes and cookies on my counter leftover from my grandmother’s wake. I opened the fridge, removed the Italian pastries, and contemplated eating the cannolis. But, I did not give in. I did not fall victim to the food or the disorder. Instead, I threw them away. My favorite food in the whole world lies smushed in a garbage bag by my front door, ready to be taken outside. Today, I took one more step closer to recovery. Today, I’m doing it. For thirty-one days, I’ve been doing it, and as difficult and painful it is, I realize now the food is not the problem. For so long, it has become a way for me to comfort and protect myself, to keep me safe, but I see that I no longer need it to protect me because I trust myself to know that I am safe.
Overweight, Anxious, and Done 