Rebel Eaters, Episode 2 Journaling Prompt

This week's writing prompt was basically: What rules would you like to impose on the people in your life regarding food and your body?

I have this pin on my purse. I bought it about two years ago from Fat Girl Flow, but I don't see it on her merch site anymore.

Since I bought it, I haven't heard anyone talking negatively about food in my presence. That's fairly amazing.

I am extraordinarily fortunate in that I live in a house with people who eat unapologetically and live in bodies without shame. I don't have to set boundaries about diet and exercise talk, because no one around here goes in for that kind of thing.

That has not always been the case.

 It took years to divest from the mentality of "good" and "bad" foods, or from feeling like I had to earn the right to eat by making sure I'd gone through the paces of a rigorous -- and boring as all get-out -- exercise regimen.

One of the reason I'm likely so devoid of the chatter of Diet Culture is that I don't work in an office anymore. I remember food and portions and workouts being prevalent topics of conversation when I was in the corporate world.

When I worked at a newspaper just out of college, I remember a lady counting the calories in each potato chip as a male co-worker ate a bag of them in at lunch. I was ear-deep in disordered eating and exercise at the time, but even I wouldn't have done that to another person.

When I was pregnant, prenatal vitamins made me ill, and I was trying to be extremely vigilant about making sure I got all of the nutrients I needed to provide for a baby. I was sitting in the break room with a packet of baby carrots when my supervisor came in to get a bag of peanuts out of the vending machine, looked at me on the way, and asked, "Do you know how many carbs are in a carrot?"

I don't miss that, and I wouldn't put up with it. I wish I'd just said, "I do not care about that on any level, thanks. I'm trying to enjoy my snack."

It's actually difficult for me not to lecture in the other direction these days. When someone seems apologetic about what they're eating, I try to encourage them with, "Your body knows what it wants. It's fine!" I could actually talk about it for three hours, but that's no better than the Diet Culture evangelists, so I shut my trap.

What I Did Today

Today was story time at the library. Mal acted like he wanted to go, until it was time to go. Then he didn't.

We haven't been to story time in months. Every time I suggest it, he literally starts crying. I don't know why; he can't articulate anything beyond, "I want to stay home!" So we do.

Today, after deciding not to go to story time, Mal told me he wanted strawberries. I was excited about the thought of going to 365 by Whole Foods, where berries are always 10% off for club members, but that was not what Mal had in mind.

Due largely to the influence of "Ryan's Toy Review" (Google it if you're uninitiated), Mal wanted to go pick strawberries. I did not. It is humid and hot, but not as hot as it's going to be next week.

Here is where the parenting rubber hits the road.

Allegedly, James and I are committed to giving Mal as much power in determining his own fate as it is possible and practical to do. And I had no reason to say, "No," so I didn't. We headed west on 1431 for what is, I believe, one of the prettiest drives in this area. It's about 45 minutes, and I knew Mal would fall asleep on the way home (which he did).

There was almost no one there, and the berries are dwindling. But we got enough to eat and maybe make something delicious. The heat got to us when the clouds weren't obscuring the sun. Mal lasted about 25 seconds on the bounce pillow thing. We caught lunch at Chick-fil-A and then found two new Cars at H-E-B before napping and/or enjoying the vistas on the trip back.

Pretty much any parenting style demands doing things that inconvenient to the parent. But you have to do it so you can look back with as few regrets as possible. And Mal was so much fun to hang out with today; I'm glad we went. I'll go to 365 tomorrow.

Things People Say #1: "She's Really Let Herself Go"

There are a lot of things that people say that make no sense to me. Either they're vapid to the point of being meaningless or they're rude and unhelpful, or they seem duplicitous, or some other thing that just sticks in my craw. I'm going to do several posts about these, and this is the first. If you have any thoughts, or any phrases that similarly bother you, please leave a comment and let me know.

The first one I want to take a look at is "letting yourself go." In the title, I used the feminine pronoun because, honestly, this is the one I hear levied the most. It typically refers to a female who perhaps used to be more conventionally "attractive" than she is now, whether it's because of hair color and style or weight or clothings choices. And when this woman is seen after a few years, whether it's an actor who's been quietly living for decades or an old church friend someone sees at the grocery store, some people will either say out loud (or in website comments) or think to themselves, "Man! She's really let herself go!"

Besides my basic belief that no one should feel comfortable judging the appearance of another person negatively at any rate, this line of thought bothers me because it makes a false assumption: That the lady in question used to care enough about herself to "take care" of herself, and now, through whatever life changes that have happened, she has apparently become lackadaisical about it and has just gotten uglier and let everyone down.

That is utter bullcrap, friends.

If you've followed me for long, or if you've known me for many years, you probably realize that my weight has fluctuated a lot during my life, mostly resting on the "higher than I'd prefer" end of the scale, but with three very dramatic weight loss events during my 20s and early 30s. If you met me when I was 26 and then didn't see me again until now, you might be tempted to think, "Geez. After she had kids, she really let herself go!"

But you'd totally miss the point.

I let go of stuff, but not of my self-care, self-esteem, or respect for my husband and family.

See, to maintain a weight that is below the level deemed by the medical community to be "overweight," food and exercise has to be the main focus of my life. I have to plan what to eat, buy those things, eat different food than my family does, track every single thing I put in my mouth, refuse random bites of food my toddler wants to share with me, spend lots of time fantasizing about the next time I "can" eat, puzzle how to consume the most amount of food with the fewest total calories, etc. I also have to take at least 90 minutes every other day to do strenuous exercise outside of the normal rhythm of my life.

For 20+ years, I worked out every other day, save about 3 months when I lived in a travel trailer in my mid-20s. I either did a combination of the Jane Fonda 1980s and Dolph Lungren 1990s workouts, or I went to the gym. Save Zumba, I never enjoyed a minute of it. I thought it was cool when I could run 5 miles (at 195 pounds, by the way), but I HATED running. I was proud of how many sit-ups I could do with no one holding my legs, but I never enjoyed the actual sit-up part. I dreaded working out, even when I did it at home while watching television.

I did both of these regimens because society, and in a couple of cases, people near and dear to me, told me that being big is gross, unlovable, and shameful. My natural base weight wasn't good enough. It had to be lower. And I took the message so seriously that no matter what I weighed, I never felt great about it. I never looked at the scale and went, "That's it, then. I made it!"

But even if I had, there's this myth in weight loss. It's called "maintenance." It's the idea that you have to work really hard to lose weight, but once you get it off, you transition to an easier phase where you just have to maintain that weight.

Actually, maintaining your lower weight is much more difficult than losing it. You can eat fewer calories, and you have to work out harder, especially if your work-out uses your own weight, ironically making the work-out easier once you don't weigh as much.

It requires a huge amount of energy: physical, emotional, and mental.

And for this chick, it just stopped being worth it.

I want to play with my kid instead of insisting on an early bedtime so I can get my work-out done. I want to eat when we go out for ice cream. I don't want to have to pull out my phone every time I eat a grape lest I forget to log it.

We eat mostly vegetarian meals, whole grains, and the like; and I get quite a bit of naturally-occurring exercise keeping up with my preschooler. It's not sustained target heart rate for fat-burning, but my body does what I want it to do and is quite reliable

If someone sees me and thinks less of me because I am not sad enough about not having worn a size 12 in 5 years, then they have it backwards. My life is fuller and happier and better now. I let go, yes, but not of my self-care or self-view. I let go of some vanity, and of requiring an approving eye to make me feel worthy of love. I let go of spending time doing something I found drudgery because I decided you don't make someone you love do stuff that sucks the life out of them.

I'll admit: a big part of this freedom to me has been living with someone who loves me unconditionally. Not being afraid that I'm going to lose the affection of the person most important to me in the world goes a long way toward giving me permission to be myself and feel comfortable about it.

So maybe your reacting negatively to your high school sweetheart's letting her hair go grey or stopping wearing heels says more about you and your need for an attitude adjustment than with her mental or physical well-being.

Maybe "letting go" isn't about not caring, but about caring for more important things. Maybe it's maturity and priorities and contentment. Maybe, instead of judgement, congratulations are in order.