My sister and I are examining ourselves as to why we have a problem with food, except I'm pretty much done with navel gazing. I see that it protrudes more than it should, and then it recedes. Then the cycle begins again. In the 70s, we were all lean and nobody went to CrossFit. There was literally one big lady in our church, and I wondered why she was so fluffy and her husband was so skinny. Now we're mostly all fluffy. If you spend any time on the internet, you'll find all these reasons -- from food addiction to gut biome. If you just buy this supplement or sign up for yet another plan, you will finally get victory. And don't get me started on "the shot."
Why is food so good? And why does obsessing about anything just seem to make it worse? Yet, when I don't obsess, I get basically the same results, just quicker. Back in those 70s, we ate ice cream, popcorn with lots of margarine (yikes, maybe that's what clogged our arteries -- butter disappeared for a few decades), plenty of carbs and real food. There was lard in the homemade biscuits, real bacon, cobblers made of blackberries we picked out in the field. But not Twinkies, specialty coffees, Coca-Cola (except the rare occasion, and that in a tiny little glass bottle) or McDonalds. I believe the first time I ate at a McDonald's, it was on a field trip in high school. It seemed strange to me, somewhat lifeless and generic. Along the way, however, Pizza Hut and ice cream loomed large.
My sister does not look like she needs to lose much weight. She gains her pounds all over, instead of being isolated to one particular spot. It's probably because she never stops moving. Add to that she has five-gozillion kids (well, only eleven) and maybe a couple dozen grandkids, and her propensity to cook for everybody instead of going out... sometimes I tell her she needs to chill for a minute. Alas, her highly-motivated self is going to Overeaters Anonymous and reporting back to me each week. I need to go too, but I'm too busy contemplating the universe. We're having interesting talks about food and our childhood and why we love the taste of Chick-Fil-A in the morning. We're in our golden years and have been having these conversations since high school, and the answers are as elusive as ever. Ironically, back then, we thought we were fat.
I haven't held back from living my life, just because I don't look like Twiggy. Swimming, climbing ladders, going to all the things, laughing loud and being in the moment are important enough that I'm not waiting around until the elusive svelte side of me decides to re-reveal herself. I'll keep aiming for what I should be eating, keep fighting the good fight...but I'm starting to think we're missing some key ingredient and there's just no figuring out what that is. Discipline, calories-in and calories-out, eating in moderation, fasting, keto, 12-step-programs...I've done them all and am still wrestling with the devil. I'm tired, just thinking about it.
I was supposed to lose a trillion pounds this past year, because I'm going to Italy with the Carrollton Wind Ensemble next month. Didn't happen. I took my eye off the ball and now I'm limping around the bases, praying my bum knee holds out for the duration. But I have a plan: As the Lord wills, I'm going to eat, drink, enjoy all the people and sights that I can stand, flop my feathery self all over Italy. I'm going to be grateful for every little thing, even the hard things (I hear that finding bathrooms can be quite the adventure), because I'm probably not doing this again. They say the light there is amazing and the coffee is to die for. There's amazing things to see and good friends to see it with. Viva Italia and Carpe diem (that's not Italian, I'm pretty sure)!
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