Ashley, Food and God

I just finished reading the book Women, Food and God. I say “finished” because I started reading it


Buy this immediately.

four years ago (back when I was single and living along) and had to put it away because every time I read a paragraph I ended up sobbing hysterically into a pillow. That is how many aha moments are in there. Honestly, I don’t care if you weight 100 pounds; that book will change your life.

The biggest takeaway I got from the book this time is: I don’t have to count calories, starve myself, only eat kale for 30 days, etc in order to “succeed” in dieting. Really, all I need to do is eat when I’m hungry and stop when I’m full. I wish I could have raked in the bucks that author Geneen Roth did by stating such an obvious feat. It’s much easier said than done though.

Roth also talks about eating what your body is asking for. Yes, if your body is dying for a hot fudge sundae, eat it. But your body is not dying for 12 sundaes 30 days in a row. It’s funny, I have been going by this mentality for the past few days and the amount of food I eat is probably cut in half and the quality is probably doubled. I had eggs and oatmeal for dinner last night. No cheese on my eggs either. I have never eaten eggs without cheese. But, I asked myself, “Do you really want the cheese?” And it didn’t sound all that great. The eggs however, were calling my name.

With this newfound confidence, the impending holidays don’t make me want to pop a Xanax and hide in my bed. I can have Thanksgiving dinner without following it up with a suicide note. I don’t have to eat until I look like a stuffed turkey and I can just eat the things I really want. Do I really want cranberry sauce? Nah. Do I really want 16 pieces of pumpkin pie? No. Do I want turkey, potatoes and stuffing? Yes, but I think I have the ability to eat less than epic proportions.

Also, I have been eating so much salad it’s unreal. I have always loved salads, but always felt I was missing out on something if I ate them. How seriously messed up is my brain? I WANT a salad. I hardly ever WANT Burger King but always choose it because I think that’s the exciting part about life…eating deep-fried everything. Good God, I need therapy.

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Fat Girls

I have had a problem with fat girls all my life. Not that I hate them for being fat. Not at all. But, I hate

If anyone ever buys me this shirt I will commit murder.

them for always thinking because I am chubby, that makes us confidantes. I can’t tell you how many times I met a fellow chunkster and within the first couple meetings she bashes some skinny girl and says something like, “Us big girls need to stick together, amirite?”

Burn?

I mean, why do we need to bring up the fact that I am fat? I don’t think the fact that we are both overweight means we are buddies. Or did I miss something? All that is accomplished by saying something like that is me feeling completely unflattering and disliking you for pointing out that it is mega obvious how fat I am. I like to live in a beautiful state of denial sometimes.

In my experience, any mention or back-handed compliment referring to my weight has been stored in a mental filing cabinet to scar me for the rest of my life.

For instance: my mother is a beautiful woman. To put it in perspective, she was voted Ms. Centerfold in high school. So, that’s a lot to live up to. But, I remember getting dressed for my 6th grade Christmas concert in front of her and her making mention that I get my “poochy belly” from her. Up until that point, I had not really considered my belly that “poochy.” Now, 15 years later that’s all I think about when I look in the mirror and the first thing I want to fix if I ever go under the knife.

People just don’t understand that you should never make mention to a woman about her weight even if you are as vague as possible. Another example: my darling Grandmother. My whole life every time I see her she either mentions that I look like I have lost weight or she doesn’t. The fact that she says I look good makes me feel wonderful. But, when I don’t hear it, that’s the equivalent of oinking at me upon entrance in my book.

So please, even if your intentions are meant to make me feel like you and I have something in common, please do not. I don’t need the constant reminder that I am overweight. I am very much aware.

Post Baby Body

I have been de-babied.

I gave birth to a beautiful little girl. Looks like her dad. Such a magical moment. But, this is a weight-loss blog, not a here’s-how-much-I-love-my-kids blog. So, I will cut to the chase…

The whole four days I was in the hospital I could not wait to get home to my scale. I couldn’t wait to see the numbers soar downward after 7 lbs 4 oz of baby meat and 9 months worth of baby juices left my body. I know this doesn’t count as “real” weight loss, but the fact that I was all the way up to my heaviest at 322 pounds, I was praying for a miracle.

So, before I even got Little Girl out of her carseat, I was on the scale. And, wouldn’t I be the only person in the history of the world who has a 7 pound baby and only loses THREE POUNDS??!!!

What a sick joke.

Photo Courtesy: scarymommy.com

Of course I burst into tears immediately while looking at my bruised, stitched, sagging post-baby body. I also kept having visions of Kim Kardashians white bikini-clad post-baby body about a minute after giving birth and felt even more like a sack of human Silly Putty.

I have never felt more homicidal in my life.

But, to my absolute shock, the pounds have been dropping at an amazing pace. I am two weeks post-partum and down to 305. I never thought I would be so happy with such a disgusting number, but it is much prettier than 322. I know breast-feeding is a mega calorie burner, so I might just keep pumping until menopause to keep myself in check…