"Real" Food, part 1

My relationship with food has had some ups and downs. Until I was in my early 20s, it was pretty simple - I got hungry; I ate; I was thin. But sometime during college, I started eating more and more. And gaining weight. And eating more. I often ate until I was uncomfortably full - almost sick. I ate each meal like it was my last.

I reached my heaviest shortly after getting married in 1998. It didn't help that I tended to eat as much as my husband, a 6' 7" ectomorph with a hummingbird-on-meth metabolism. But in the beginning of 1999, without even really trying, I lost 6 or 7 pounds. Encouraged, I started making small changes, slowly - drinking more water, eating smaller portions, getting more active and even exercising. A year later, I was 40 pounds lighter and a fitness fiend.

So began my obsession with food. It started innocently enough - I became interested in eating more healthfully and read as much as I could about it. Some aspects of this were positive - I jumped on the anti-trans-fats bandwagon way before many people even knew what they were. I read “Fast Food Nation” and as a result, pretty much cut beef out of my diet.

But I started equating my control of food with my fitness. I was convinced that if I didn't carefully control what I ate, I would gain all the weight back (even though I was exercising consistently). My meals were carefully planned and of course, recorded. I had to make sure I drank a certain amount of water each day or God knows, the world would cave in. Artificial sweeteners and other “diet” foods were a mainstay. I weighed myself every morning, terrified that I’d see the needle go up a pound (even though I was under-weight at the time).

I never starved myself or binged and purged; I didn’t have an “eating disorder,” but I certainly had “disordered eating.” Traveling with me was a nightmare. I would pitch a fit if I couldn’t find a place to eat that had the “right” healthy foods. I had to bring certain foods with me to ensure I’d have something I “could” eat. I almost skipped what turned out to be an incredible weekend at Put-In Bay with my friends Barb and Leanne because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find the “right” foods to eat.

In retrospect, I see this clearly. At the time, however, I was in denial. “How can I have a problem? I let myself have ‘treat’ foods.” (For example, I’ve always been a sucker for cake with frosting and never gave it up.)

It was a slow process to change my perspective. A recurring stress fracture in my left shin led me to a nutritionist who helped me to see that maybe my eating wasn’t as healthy as I thought. And ironically, getting involved with marathon training through the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training program helped me to view food as a good and necessary fuel for endurance events. Finally, the decision to have a baby really kicked me in the butt – I knew I would have to gain some weight if I wanted to start ovulating, get knocked up, and have a healthy pregnancy.