Today's blog challenge topic is a tough one.
Here it is: My relationship with food.
Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy......where do I even begin? If you've followed my blog for a while, you're probably already rolling your eyes and clicking out of my website to head to E! or something more productive. And I wouldn't blame you. I've been involved in a very twisted relationship with food for a long-arse time. Which is why I made the decision to have weight loss surgery about a year ago.
The truth is...I come from a long line of alcoholics and addicts. Some of you may remember the character, Billy Cole, from my debut novel, The What If Guy? Yeah. Well, he isn't such a far cry from some of my relatives, and we'll leave it at that. Addiction is a problem in my family. And I was no exception. The good news is, I am a devoutly religious person (want to know more about my faith? Click here.) and I do not drink, do drugs, smoke, or gamble. So those addictions aren't a problem for me. So what was my problem?
Food. Glorious, yummy food.
I loved food. I ate when I was happy. I ate when I was sad. I ate when I was ticked. I ate when I was bored. I ate when I was silly. I ate when I was lonely. I ate when I was indifferent. I ate all the freaking time, and when I ate, I ate until I was sick. Like, ralphy, wanting to die, "holy hannah, I think I cracked a rib" full. This is fact. It was horrible. And I ate like that all the time, day in and day out. Food, food, food. It was a problem, and my health was suffering because of it.
So I made the choice to change it.
Yup. One day, I just called my husband at work, and said "hey, I'm doing this, and I really want you to support me, but even if you don't, I'll still do it. Are you on board, or not?" And I went to see a therapist, a dietician, and a bariatric surgeon. I spent the next six months working my butt off to lose ten percent of my body weight, and to getting my emotional issues evaluated. I allowed a skinny, beautiful dietician see me in a swimsuit while I sat in a torture device called a Bod Pod (google it, it will horrify you, I guarantee it) and I made the choice, once and for all, that my relationship with food was over. Period.
Food is for sustaining life, not gorging on. That became my motto. I wanted a long, happy life with my remaining children, and getting fatter by the minute, even though my body was literally falling apart, was no longer an option. I had three more years before my son left for his mission, and I intended to use them wisely. I would run and dance and play with my kids again. Even if it killed me.
And here I am. I was 240 pounds and now I weigh 155. I still have 25 pounds to go, and I may never hit that goal. But I'm trying. And I'm moving. And I feel better and better every single day. And for that, I am eternally grateful.
So.........that's my relationship with food. It is there to sustain life, not to gorge on. And I still struggle. I will likely struggle with it every single day of the rest of my life. But I am finally in control of food, instead of food controlling me. It. Feels. Incredible.
P.S. You know the debut novel I mentioned above? It's called The What If Guy, and it's for sale HERE. Grab your copy today!