I was just catching up over at Harriet Brown's terrific blog, Feed Me! and this post really resonated with my own experience. Lately I've been tempted to write about this, especially with Diet Season™ in full swing with it's onslaught of advertising for various weight loss schemes, drugs and scams.
Harriet quotes Ellyn Satter, a therapist who specializes in food and eating issues:
Competent eaters have positive attitudes about eating and therefore are relaxed about it. They enjoy food and eating and they are comfortable with their enjoyment. They feel it is okay to eat food they like in amounts they find satisfying.
And,
...competent eaters are emotionally and socially healthier than people with low levels of eating competence. They feel more effective, they are more self-aware, and they are more trusting and comfortable with themselves and with other people.
I started dieting in earnest at 14 years old and 103 pounds. I'd been a chubby kid, and even though I'd grown out of my "baby fat," I still thought of myself as fat. My family and friends encouraged the endeavor, and after a week of nothing but cottage cheese, hot dogs and turkey lunch meat, I was down to 95 pounds. Everyone raved about how great I looked. Of course, it didn't last, and soon I was on a cycle of starving/bingeing, losing/gaining that was to last for a many years at my most disordered, and on/off for a couple of decades afterward. During these times I was perpetually anxious around people, around food, and had no sense of who I was or what I wanted. I remember telling a friend, "sometimes I feel like an onion; just keep peeling away the layers and there's no core, just more layers."
I envied my friends who seemed to have a normal and uncomplicated relationship with eating, who could have one cookie or one piece of their mom's zucchini bread, and who didn't seem to be thinking about food All. The. Time. For me, eating "normally" was impossible. I was always hungry, always thinking about food: what I could eat, what I couldn't eat, how I was going to resist having birthday cake at the party, how I was going to be able to sneak back into the kitchen to grab another piece of pizza and then sneak into the bathroom to wolf it down. Today I understand that this was a normal physiological reaction to periodic semi-starvation, but back then I thought it was because I was weak-willed and indulgent, had no willpower, and was morally flawed. Not trusting myself around food spilled over into not trusting myself in most other areas of my life. I had friends who put me down and boyfriends who constantly bugged me about my weight and commented about every bite I took, and I thought this was what I deserved. I wore clothes that were too small and uncomfortable because I thought by punishing myself I'd be more motivated to lose weight.
One day in my early 20's, I was perusing the shelves of my favorite used bookstore, and found myself with a copy of "Fat is a Feminist Issue" in my hands. At the risk of sounding trite, this was a life-changing book for me. I gave myself permission to stop dieting, and almost immediately I stopped bingeing. For the first time in years, I left food on my plate. While it did take a few years to get fully back in tune with my body's hunger and satiety messages, I initially experienced a freedom around food that I previously thought I'd lost forever.
And as I became more in touch with my body again, I also became more in touch with myself, my likes and dislikes, and started living more from the inside out not only in regards to the superficial things but also in regard to the people and relationships in my life. I began to think less in terms of "do they like me?" and more in terms of "do I like them?" It wasn't a smooth or simple path; several times over the next couple of decades I lapsed back into dieting, and each time the anxiety around food and social situations reasserted itself. I haven't given up wishing I were a bit thinner; I'm just no longer willing to sacrifice this peace of mind I have today to that goal. I still worry too much about what others think of me, but am no longer devastated by disapproval. I no longer believe that my self-worth comes from wearing a smaller size, or that having dessert makes me a weak or bad person. And more often than not, I am able to eat a few bites until I'm satisfied, and leave the rest on my plate. By disengaging from our culture's disordered attitude toward food and eating, I've achieved a normal and healthy relationship with food, and with it, a sense of comfort about life in general.
Edited to add: Proof again that great minds think alike, ;-) Maya's Granny has some insightful thoughts today on this topic.
Cost-per-square-foot being what it is, dining establishments need to get the most out of their real estate, and tables are jammed ever closer together. Sometimes the person next to you is actually closer (and easier to hear) than one's dining companion across the table.
