Does This Ego Make Me Look Fat?

I went to a "meeting" last night—to protect the innocent, I won't say which one or where, but suffice it to say it was for people who have issues with food, eating, and the effects of food excesses on the body. It's no secret to readers of this blog that I've had more than my share of those issues since an early age, when I was urged, as a little one, to "Eat everything on your plate so you'll grow up to be big and strong"...only to discover, when I was 10, that—according to the same adults who once found my large appetite to be so cute—I was eating too much, and would surely grow up to be big and weak.

To sum up what I heard at the meeting: some people get obsessed with food and eating to the point of unhappiness and ill health, and this is called "food addiction." A way to control the addictive urge to eat "red light" foods, and to overeat in general, is to consume only specific foods, to weigh and measure them with precision, and never to stray from this, not even on your birthday when everyone else is enjoying your birthday cake. If you want dominion over the addiction, you intend to follow this plan for the rest of your life, one day at a time.

In this particular group, which has stricter guidelines than similar groups, food choices are in the control of a sponsor who tells the sponsee exactly what to eat. This is done because "We [group members] admit we are powerless over food." There is also a huge emphasis in this program about weight loss; it seems that success on the plan is measured not simply in "abstinent" days, but in the amount of weight lost and kept off. (I wonder how this works for slender people with food issues.)

Actually, I'm on a regimen myself at the moment that is...well, regimented. There's a list of foods I can choose from (it's quite extensive but not all-encompassing), which may be prepared only in specific combinations...certain foods that are verboten (grains, sugar, red meat, shellfish, nuts, table salt, coffee, black tea)...and all are to be eaten in weighed-and-measured amounts, on the small side but perfectly adequate for complete adult nutrition. The food is also prepared with a minimum of fat, no heavy sauces, excessive condiments or spices, so that the natural flavors and textures of the food can be fully experienced. It is also recommended to eat without drinking or talking during the meal, and to chew each bite to liquid (at least 22 times) before swallowing.

Following this plan—which I will do for awhile and see how it goes (so far, so good; I feel great; joint pain is remarkably reduced, and my ADD seems to have disappeared)—certainly makes life easier, unless I think I need regular ingestion of vegetable tempura or lobster risotto in order to be happy. No choices about amounts, and fewer choices about what I'm going to eat, means less headroom taken up by thoughts of food. I've come to see that I spend a good portion of my day thinking about (or obsessing over), shopping for, preparing and eating meals...time I could be using to write articles, work on my business, watch movies, or do The Work.

But am I powerless over food? I don't see how that is possible. I'm not addicted to food; I'm addicted to my thoughts about food. Thoughts like, "I need more food." I inquired into that concept the other day and discovered that this has never been true for me; it can never be true, and yet I have believed it all my life and used it as a justification for eating more than I actually want to.

As I've watched my addictive tendencies around food and eating, I've discovered that my core addiction is to the future. Wanting more of something—be it food, sex, dope, money, attention, time on the internet—is not a present-tense story; it's about wanting comfort, security, and pleasure. Wanting more means forgetting what's happening in the moment; I'm already concerned with the next moment, and with the point where what's in front of me is gone, so I miss what's in front of me. As a result, I eat too fast and don't experience taste and fullness; I load my fork for the next mouthful, not giving the current mouthful my full attention. In following this program, I've come to see that the next mouthful is not my business; when I'm eating mindfully, I don't miss the fulfillment of this one that I'm chewing now. As a result, I don't need as much food as I previously thought, and I'm appreciating and being intimate with the food I have.

As for weight loss, it's been happening, and yet this is not where it's at for me at the moment. I welcome a lighter body as a bonus, because there is less encumbrance, less physical pain, easier breathing, more energy...and I see that I have been unkind to this body to have ever seen it as unworthy, unattractive, or less than perfect. Body-condemnation is an ego-trip of the worst kind; a false sense of self in which there is no recognition of one's true nature. Love has no problem living in a fat body, a skeletal body, an old body, a body that's ill or misshapen or missing parts. The only time a fat body is a problem is when I project that it is hateful and I identify as a hateful object.

Byron Katie once told me, "There's nothing you can do to lose [or gain] weight." That goes against scientific evidence to the contrary, but this is not about science; it's about eating in a way that feels closer to Source. When we touch Source, there are many things that we used to think we needed that we see we no longer need. This doesn't mean that we don't exercise, lose or gain weight, sleep, feed the body healthy foods in healthy amounts. It's like the story about a monk who for many years meditated and meditated, prayed and prayed for a vision of the Divine Mother, until one day he realized he was That and didn't need the vision. That was the day the Goddess came to bless him.


©2008 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

What 50 Looks Like

The feminist icon Gloria Steinem, one of my heroes, made famous the phrase "This is what 40 looks like." She may have said it to chastise those who think being a certain age means being old, unattractive, past-it. I've certainly had those thoughts about myself and others. As a young woman, I dreaded turning 30. Forty was a nightmare.

I turned 50 on January 6th. It happened just the way I wanted it to; in the company of beloveds, in a beautiful place (Ojai, California). Though not shot at the most flattering angle, I love this photo (taken by my friend Celeste Gabriele) because it expresses the happiness and gratitude I felt that day.

I keep hearing, "You don't look 50." I've never lied about my age because I've loved to watch peoples' jaws drop. I greatly enjoyed it when, on my 30th birthday, I ordered an alcoholic drink in a restaurant and was asked for my I.D.

When I look in the mirror now, I do see 50. My lack of gray hair, which some see as a sign of youthfulness, is genetic; both parents grayed late, yet at 40 my mother looked considerably older than I do now. Of course, unlike me, she had a husband and a child; I suspect we aged her a bit!

This body has plenty of mileage on it, which to me is visible and palpable. I have more chins than a Chinese phone book. I've got less hair in some places and more in others. My body feels 50; I am now aware of having hip joints, something I never used to think about. My memory isn't what it used to be, nor is my hearing.

I see 50 in my eyes as well; in the early morning, they can look world-weary...or maybe that's just the droop of my nearly-blind right eye, coupled with a typical change-of-life decrease in the amount of hours I sleep through the night.

Emotionally and spiritually, I don't feel especially 50, whatever that means. I remember my aunt Evelyn remarking, at 60, that she couldn't relate to that number. In my late 20s at the time, couldn't see her that way either; she was more adventurous, and fun to be with, than many of my contemporaries. As for me, I'm essentially the same person I was at 15. Except at 15, I thought I knew it all.

So, this is what 50 looks like, and it has nothing to do with looks. Fifty without a story looks happy to be alive, feels relatively healthy and sane, experiences a lot of love, and is living a most fulfilling life, right now.


©2008 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

Excerpt from Thunderthighs: The Musical

At my pre-birthday party last December, I gave friends and family a taste of my 10-minute performance piece. We could say that the whole performance was a worksheet on "I hate my thighs because...." Thanks to my friend Larry Schwartz for making this available.





©2008 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.

What Changed, Besides a Thought?

Babies with chubby legs are cute. Case in point; moi, 49 years ago.

Adults with chubby legs, or any other "imperfect" body part, do everything in their power to hide or get rid of them. Moi, 49 years later.

Discuss.

P.S. My Aunt B. says I haven't changed a bit.


©2007 by Carol L. Skolnick; all rights reserved.