Learning to See the Avoided Fat Body

Me now.

In the last few months, I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror. That’s an old behavior. What is new is that I now look at all of my body, instead of the few inches of which I’m not ashamed.

I don’t remember when I stopped looking at my body, or if I ever even started. Like many women—especially fat women (or those afraid of being fat)—I’ve long judged and avoided my body, and considered it (and myself) ugly. I long ago learned to look selectively. Even as a skinny kid, I would only look at my face (and just the parts of it, like my eyes and cheekbones, which I considered less ugly) and avoid the rest. I lived from the neck up long before I’d ever heard that phrase.

Being a survivor of sexual abuse was a part of it, certainly; I rejected my body because it had not protected me in my time of need (and had betrayed me, too. Long deprived, I always hungered for any kind of physical contact). A therapist once assigned me the task of looking at seven-year-old girls, the age of the first sexual abuse I remember. “You’ll see how small little girls are,” she said, “and so helpless.” She was right, of course. (Even years afterwards, I’d still turn away and cry whenever I’d just glance at one of those small faces atop a set of tiny limbs.)

For decades—the skinny ones and the fat—I didn’t know what my body looked like because I didn’t look; I was afraid to look, and I was ashamed to look. I wore poorly-fitting and shapeless clothes to camouflage what I did not want to see. I ordered clothes by mail for convenience and to avoid the visibility (and potential shame) of shopping in public. The idea that I could wear clothes to highlight or accentuate my body was an unknown concept. Of course I preferred to make love in the dark, and struggled to accept the slow caress, the lingering, tender gaze.

Exhibit A: Shapeless clothes (2010)

For the last several months, however, I’ve been using mirrors, cameras, and a tape measure to learn myself, a kind of training in seeing. It is as if I am seeing myself for the first time, seeing what I actually look like, compared to the image I carry around in my head. I also now know that I've spent years seeing myself from outside, as one viewed. I am learning how to see myself and my world from behind my own eyes.

One of the benefits of this training is that I can now tell when I’m doing a “perfect parts” self-gaze, versus simply seeing my body. Also, I no longer measure my appearance based on others’ attention because I now have my own base of knowledge. I know, too, that there is a difference between how my body feels to me and how it looks. Because of my increased muscle tone, for example, I feel (and am) sleeker. I am still carrying excess fat, however, so am still bulgy around my stomach, upper thighs, and butt. 
I can’t (yet) say that I love my body, but I am becoming familiar with it, have learned to see it, and do so with diminishing shame.

Stuck Between the "I Know That" and the Not Doing

What we want is "how to." And the more you diet and the more you struggle, the more you know all the answers...Most of us can look at a buffet on a ship and tell you how many points everything is on that buffet. We've got "how to" down...
So if "how to" is the issue--how to be joyful, how to have more meaning and purpose in our lives--then we'd be done. But "how to" is not working.
The problem is bigger than "how to." The problem is about what gets in the way of implementing what we know.

--Brene Brown

 This quote certainly resonates for me. I've made lots of recent changes to my food, mostly boosting the amount of fat I'm eating, and reducing, even more, the amount of carbs I consume. Well, that's the plan, anyway.

Here's the reality: I'm still eating too many carbs, and not enough fat. And, instead of tracking the amount of carbs, protein, and fat I'm eating on a daily basis, I do, but don't write the information down. In fact,  I solemnly weigh the food and track the portions in my head. Not writing them down, of course, means all that solemnness goes to waste, and I am not capturing information I need that will help me meet my goals and intentions. I'm not doing the things I know "how to" do and the things I need to move fully and successfully into this new (ketogenic) way of eating.

And it isn't about this particular food plan. I do this (what my mother used to call half-stepping) with a lot of my eating, and around a lot of others elements of my life.

Brown talks a bit in this video about the need--the crying pressing need we all have, in this culture--to begin talking about the things that get in the way. I am fortunate in that I am able to do that in my Women & Food group, and with most of my friends. So it isn't (for me, anyway) the opportunity to have those conversations that bring about change. 

In another video, Brown talks a bit about shame, and speaks a line early on that resonates for me: 

There was a part of me that was working very hard at staying small, staying right under the radar.

 The curious bit, of course, is that I am staying small by staying big (though I now weigh the least I have in years) and not doing the things I know will help me achieve my goals--and remaining right under the radar of success.

What is getting in the way of me implementing what I know?

Becoming the Owner, No Longer the Tenant

 The other day I made a list of some things I didn’t know how to do, the lack of which was impeding my life. After writing 10 items like, “How to be consistent,” “How to be in life without hedging”and “How to keep promises I make to myself,” I wrote:

I don’t know how to stop being afraid, how to stop being ashamed, how to stop living life like a seven-year-old left at home, alone and waiting.

And that, really, is the nitty-gritty of all of this, I believe. Each of those states—fear, shame, abandonment—is about The Other: The Harming Other, The Shaming Other, the Abandoning/Rescuing Other. They are not about me, but I have reserved most of my existence for them, occupying just the foyer of my life.

In contrast, to be successful with this food work (at core about self-care and self-kindness), I must both end the waiting, and give myself permission to take action for myself.

In the past, I’ve generally muscled, shamed, guilt-tripped, disciplined and punished myself around food and eating for others—how they would better accept and love me, or to impress or show them up. And that would work, for a while; until doing the difficult bits no longer delivering the payback I wanted (or was deemed insufficient). And then I couldn’t maintain it, or felt unworthy or unsafe in the body I’d created.

I’m pleased to say that my current successes with my food/eating transformation shows I am taking better care of (and even enjoying) myself, even though I am now challenged with eating in ways that don’t serve me.

For example, these last couple of months I’ve eaten lots of carbs—much fruit, also corn, rice, lots of agave-sweetened tea, and some spelt and oat flour. I’ve regained weight, a sluggish feeling, and puffiness. I also stopped logging my food (when I ate, what I ate, and the nutritional profile of each food).

That’s one side of the ledger. Successes include:

•  I’ve been walking regularly again; yesterday and today, I walked about 30 blocks. 
•  I made a list of 50 activities that gave me pleasure, and volleyball was one (I haven’t played in decades, but really used to enjoy it). Today I practiced volleyball with others at a local community center.
• Eating 2-3 tbsps of sauerkraut 3X/daily (as I’ve done for the past month) boosts my digestion noticeably.

So, now what? Back to inquiry and self-assessment. (In the words of poet Denise Levertov, Know the ship you sail on.)

If I want to feel at ease, sexual, strong, and quick in my body, what do I need to do? What has worked for me in the past? I:

1.       Severely limited my carbs intake (to around 50 grams/daily).

2.       Ate meat, fish, and vegetables for at least 90% of my food intake.

3.       Lifted weights at least 3X a week with a workout partner.

4.       Walked and went out dancing a lot.

5.       Observed how my body responded to different foods and eating patterns; avidly researched others’ food ideas and successes. (As cha cha champion, martial artist, teacher, and actor Bruce Lee said, Research, absorb what is useful, reject what is useless, and add what is specifically your own.)

6.       Created a vision board to reinforce my desired goal of what I wanted to look like.

7.       Came from a sense of pleasure and satisfaction.

Quote from B.Bush to son George as he ran a marathon.

Apart from my ace boon companions in the Women & Food group, I’ve been quite solitary about my recent food change process, and see (from #3 and #4b) that my previous time of comfort/pleasure in my body involved collaborating with others, not going it alone.

I’m wondering, too, if setting a weight goal is a good idea now. I did that (unsuccessfully and frequently) many years ago. Like so many women, I made weight loss (not self-care and self-love), my desired outcome. Could I do that differently today?

My immediate intentions for self-care around my body and food:

1.       Limit my carbs to 50 grams daily, and log only the carbs. (Begin now)

2.       Find a workout partner and lift 3X weekly. (Begin in January)

3.       Walk daily. (Begin now)

4.       Make at least 90% of my food intake meat, fish, and vegetables. (Begin now)

5.       Create a vision board of bodies I admire. (By January 31^st)

6.       Go dancing or play volleyball once a week. (Begin in January)

7.       Read about/research the Paleo food plan.

8.       Decide by January 15^th if I want to set a weight goal and, if so, what it is.

That Clothes-Sex Thing

Losing weight and not shopping for new clothes = wearing baggy clothes.
This, however, is not new for me. I've long worn baggy clothes, and enjoyed it. I'd think of them as comfortable, and liked how they hid or gave them impression of hiding, the parts of my body of which I was ashamed: my belly. And they made (and sometimes make) me feel safe and protected from harm

I sometimes find myself embarrassed looking at other fat women who wear tight(er) clothes, and think: aren't you ashamed? Why are you pushing yourself on us like that? Of course, it is my shame, my fear of being visible that I'm projecting onto them. (The link takes you to a wonderful, sexy video of Brit comedienne Katy Brand.)
Like many survivors of sexual abuse, I often wear baggy clothes for the sense of safety they provide me. They give me a feeling (not the reality, of course) of invisibility and protection. And they de-sex me.

Monique, working it.

And Now?
I'm viewing oversized clothes in a different light. I now see that they also bring a sense of vagueness to my concept of self. I'm beginning to feel fuzzy and undefined while wearing oversized clothes, and crisper, more present, when I wear more form-fitting clothes. Being in baggy clothes hides me from myself, and others, and not just the sexual others, either.
And I've been feeling more sexual, much more sensual lately, with a greater desire to be in the world, so I want to show myself more. I want to be one of those sexy, lush women in nice clothes.

Food for Unconscious Times

I was shopping with my friend Michelle at the Food Coop yesterday. I grabbed the big jar of dried mulberries. It was nearly empty.

I held up the jar and said, "Look at this! There's hardly any in here. Somebody's been eating them!" Said Michelle, "Yeah. It was probably you."
My first thought was, "Dang, that was cold, Michelle." But there was a lot of truth, too.
Because I have been eating a lot of dried mulberries. I graze on them throughout the day; I can easily eat a pound a week (hell, in 5 days). And I do.
They are one of my few pleasure foods, foods I eat unconsciously, foods I eat when I need something, or feel a lack. Unlike most of the food I consume, I don't measure the amount of mulberries I eat, I eat them standing up, and I don't log the amounts and times I eat them (as I generally do with other food). I do the same with cashews, slices of dried apples, and almond butter.  What they have in common is that I can eat them quickly, with no preparation and no (or few) utensils.
I am aware that I want to stay unconscious when I eat like this, and think that it's acceptable because I'm not downing bowls of oatmeal or ice cream. I call that my Harm-Reduction Mind: this is much less destructive than previous behavior, so it is better.
Clearly, I don't accept it. Rather, I feel shame about it, and the more conscious I am of other behavior, the more glaringly obvious is my embrace of Dead Zones and the foods that take me there.
And I am still "using" food to fix me, just different food, and smaller quantities.

What's Going Well

I think I've been a bit unbalanced in my self-reporting.
Several people (including strangers!) said I'm excessively self-critical. I admit I do have tendencies in that direction.
So this post reviews some of the benefits I've received from the changes in my food, myself, and the process of change.
I am much more conscious of the food I eat.  Tracking my food, observing how my body responds to the food I do eat (and, in some cases, when I eat it) has provided me many pluses. For example, I:

• Recognize much more quickly when I am eating for avoidance/to numb out versus easing hunger.
• Eat smaller quantities of food than before.
• (Usually know) when I am hungry and what it is I need to eat.
• Generally eat a lot less compulsively and inattentively than before.

I am feeling physically better than I have in quite a long time. Until I made major changes to my food (I'm referring here to letting go of dairy, grains, most sugar, peanuts, and most roasted nuts) I had no idea how many of the limitations I'd grown used to were related to food. Since then, I'm:

• Much more flexible. For example, I no longer lean on something while I bend down to put the cat dish on the floor, and no longer need to do a 3-point, 2-position maneuver to stand up after sitting on the floor.
• A whole lot less bloated.
• Digesting my food more completely.
• Feeling a lot less congested in my body.
• Haven't gotten sick, and heal much more quickly from cuts and scratches (from my cats).
• Carrying around a much smaller belly.
• Much more conscious and happy with my physical self.
• Feeling sexy and attractive in ways I've not in quite a while.
• Feeling a lot less self-conscious (which is a great match with the previous bullet point, yes?).

Boosting my protein intake in the first half of the day has really helped my memory, recall, attention span, stamina, and work output,, while reducing brain fog. Who knew?
I now eat around 100 grams of protein daily, always in the first two meals of the day. When I don't, I see a clear drop off in my recall and memory first, and then the attention span gets shot to hell (it's still a challenge, but gets even worse without sufficient protein).

My experimentation and spirit of inquiry has made it possible for me to now judge much less harshly my process, weight, and myself.  A speaker at a 12-step meeting I attended recently used a phrase that has stuck with me. "I was locked and loaded," he said, "on a fixed idea."
That was me--with my food, my concept of what I needed to do, and how I was going to do it. My original goal was to go nearly or completely all-raw, with my protein from nut and other plant sources (e.g., soy). I was not going to eat sugar, and I certainly saw no need (and had zero desire) to track, much less measure, my food. And I certainly was not going to weigh myself for at least 90 days. In fact, for months I didn't care to admit that weight had anything to do with why I was making changes.
Now I'm hammering 3 eggs and 2 pieces of meat daily. I don't eat soy. I'm testing  to see whether or not I can have some sugars (e.g., agave, honey, and cane sugar). I (generally) measure and write down the food I eat (I'm now writing it down before I eat it, to see how that affects the volume of food I eat). I weigh myself weekly, and write that down, too.
There is a wonderful ease and acceptance I've gained. I put on 1.5 pounds last week (and a pound the week before that), yet I'm not freaked out, I'm not muscling myself; I'm breathing and being with ease.  I realize I haven't been eating nearly the amount of vegetables I was last month, so I've eaten more this week. I'll weigh myself next Tuesday, and perhaps make adjustments. I might, for example, see what happens if I reduce the amount of coffee (and the coconut milk I put in it), or not eat any sweeteners.
My point is:  I'm not acting out of shame or fear (nearly as much); I'm much less reactive, too. What freedom.

Update: How Now

It's been about 3 weeks since I radically changed my food and how I eat (again). This post details what I'm doing, what's happened, and how I feel about it.

What I'm Doing Now

• I eat about 100-120 grams of protein a day, mostly at breakfast and lunch (I usually don't eat dinner as the large volume of protein pretty much carries me through the day). I also now eat about 70 grams of carbohydrates (either pinto beans or lentils) daily.
• I eat a lot of eggs and meat--a lot. Breakfast is usually 3 eggs with a 4 oz hamburger patty and 1/2 cup of pinto beans. Lunch is either another 1/2 cup of beans, more hamburger (or seafood--I really like salmon, but also eat cheaper fish and scallops. I don't eat farmed seafood) and lots of vegetables--I was eating loads of raw spinach, avocados, and tomatoes for quite a bit. Now its more zucchini (cooked), or tomatoes and sprouts (raw). I feel a broccoli phase coming on, though...
• For some reason, chicken doesn't "work" as well for me as a protein source as beef, so I don't eat it (and I stopped consuming soy products a while ago as I don't tolerate them well).
• I've (mostly) stopped eating fruit (except for blueberries and dried mulberries) as I seem to be extra sensitive to sugar (and more so as I walk this food path).
• I am now drinking coffee again. I'd stopped as I  hadn't found a good (nondairy) milk replacement, and un-milked coffee is hard for me to take. I now use coconut milk (but religiously check the label, as some brands contain rice flour/powder, and I'm not eating rice.)
• I've been able to add back small amounts of goat milk products, which is great. I sometimes use goat milk in my coffee, and have been eating a little goat cheese, too.
• As you can see, the range of food I eat is quite narrow. That is not unlike my food pattern before starting on this path, but the foods are quite different. I'm fine with it.
• At the end of August (and in spite of earlier protestations), I started capturing in my food journal what and when I ate. I write down the amount of food. It's pretty simple because I'm generally eating the same things most days. 
• I've set up an Excel spreadsheet, and am slowly entering the journal info. The spreadsheet which automatically calculates (for each food I enter) the protein, carb, fat and calorie counts.
• I'm now weighing myself weekly. I've logged the info in my food journal these last 3 weeks.

What's Happened

• The protein and the volume of food have really made a difference. That crushing, aching fatigue is nearly gone, as is the brain fog and sluggishness. I am now marveling at how much I was able to do (not at all well, of course) feeling as shitty as I was for so many months My stamina has improved, too. The ADD also is less dominant. It's easier for me to stay on task, to complete projects, and I get frustrated a lot less easily. All good.
• My weekly weight loss has ranged from 2.4 to 3.7 lbs in the last three weeks. From July 1 and 30 August I lost about 25 lbs, an average of 2.4 lbs a week. 
• It's too soon to tell if my food changes are/will affect the rate of weight loss (and I may even gain weight). 
• I stopped working out at the gym (even walking very much) in July-early August as I just didn't have the energy. I'm pretty sure I'll go back next week as I'm feeling a lot stronger.
•  The look of my body has changed. My belly is protruding a lot less, my upper arms are smaller, and I could carry a coupla rolls of quarters in each bra cup now. I also am losing fat from my face, so it has gotten saggy. Why does this surprise me? Yet it does. Now my neck looks bigger. Odd. 

 How It Feels

•  I'm pleased that I'm now more flexible on this path, much more so than when I started in June.
• The food "data capture" is emotionally challenging. I'm glad I'm doing it (for a lot of reasons, mostly to ensure I get the protein I need), but I miss the alluring fantasy always available in the not knowing. There, I can fill the future with hopes, without having to be so awake, so conscious of the results of my choices. So there's a thrill that's gone, a lost expectation of some kind of future magic awaiting me.
• As for the rest (and related, surely), most of my meals and days are full of a  feeling of plodding along, and who wants to plod?
• I feel disappointed (and, curiously, ashamed) that I'm spending time in data capture, particularly about my weight. I want these changes to be about my health, damn you, not the weight. I don't want to be concerned about my weight, would like not to be, but am. And I hate that. But why do I think I am immune--unlike millions of other people--to our culture's praise of/fawning over skinny women, and shaming of the fat ones like me?
  Eleanor Kohlsaat (at the Make Friends With Food blog) captures it well when she writes,

I’ve talked with a lot of people who say health is their number-one priority, but when it comes right down to it, weight loss is what they care about the most. And this is not surprising: in our culture, we equate thinness not only with happiness and success, but also with health. That’s the message we get from our friends, our family, TV, the Internet, and even the medical community. Weight loss will make us healthy. Weight loss at any cost.

So that's where I've been, and where I am.

Sans Glasses, Sans Shame

Today I went for a walk without my glasses. I didn't expect it to be the information-laden, near-revolutionary experience it became.
I'm nearsighted, and have worn glasses for more than 40 years. Yes, they improve my vision (I'll never forget my first day of assisted vision, when I realized those green clouds atop trees were masses of individual leaves), but they've served a less-beneficial function.
They particulars aren't important now, but I grow up in a family environment that was harmful in many ways. As a result, I became many things at early age: shame-filled, fearful, anxious, and hypervigilant.

Glasses helped me see better, but also became a tool that fed my hypervigilance and shame. In my waking hours I am like a small, relentless lighthouse, constantly searching my environment--especially others' faces--to gather and gauge microscopic indicators of impending danger, approval, or the bloom of disgust and ridicule.

Shame and Glasses
We think of shame as a solo experience, but it's not. Shame, Dr. Judith Herman reminds us, is always a relational experience. Shame requires an Other, even if existing only in the mind of the person shamed/afraid of being shamed. Here she quotes psychologist H.B. Lewis:

Shame is one's own vicarious experience of the other's scorn. The self-in-the-eyes-of-the-other is the focus of awareness...The experience of shame often occurs in the form of imagery, of looking or being looked at. Shame may also be played out as an internal colloquy, in which the whole self is condemned.

Herman's identification of the differences between guilt and shame emphasize the role of the real or imagined Other:

Whereas shame is focused on the global self in relation to others,
guilt is focused on a specific action that the person has committed.
Shame is an acutely self-conscious state in which the self is "split,"
imaging the self in the eyes of the other; by contrast, in guilt, the
self is unified. Shame is an acutely painful and 'disorganizing'
emotion; guilt may be experienced without intense effect. Shame
engenders a desire to hide, escape, or lash out at the person in
whose eyes one feels ashamed. By contrast, guilt engenders the
desire to undo the offense...

That's a pretty accurate description of how I go through much of life: always trying to "small" myself, and always thinking of how others view and value me. It is not an easy life. Although I desire not to seek this information, I usually feel unsafe unless I do.
But today--without my glasses--I couldn't scan for the microscopic changes, the shift in the eyebrow, the incipient curl in the lip, and so I didn't. What freedom!
It was only today that I realized how much I changed myself, tried to transform myself to engender safe treatment by strangers on the street. The calibrations-face: Welcoming? Disarmed? Serious? Uninterested? Charming? Sexy? Eye contact: Yes? No? If yes,  duration? The belly: Tight torque or medium? The gait: Slow and measured? Sexy lope? Brisk?
The freedom wasn't in not seeing (my vision's good until about 6 feet out), but of lacking the tool to search, to dig for information in the faces of passers-by, and choosing not to do so. Today I had a respite from a burden I never knew I carried, unshackled from a labor so automatic it was unknown. I was free for that hour, and safe.
Of course I came home and cried.