Obsessions and Body Image – Day 4 – 153.4

This morning, I nervously stepped on the scale, wondering if this would be the day I’d see a smaller change or no change or the wrong kind of change. After all, I ate 3 more carbs and 50 more calories than I had intended and I didn’t drink enough water and I still didn’t exercise and and and . . .

Nope, down another 0.8. I know it’s not real, but so far, I am down 3.8 pounds.

This is the second version of “The New New Plan.” The first was a private site I created last March to keep track of my diet and exercise. It really helped for me to see what was working and what was not when I stalled. Since my diet went off the rails when I had my heart and foot broken and I stopped recording, I wanted a fresh start that allowed me to integrate everything and release it into the ether. Plus the food plan stakes are potentially higher when I know someone else might be watching.

Given that I weigh my food and I have set up an online journal to record exercise, weight loss, and what I am eating, one might think I am a wee bit obsessive. And one would be right.

My whole extended family is a bit obsessive. Half of my family are exercise fiends, though none more than my mother, who takes at least one spin class a day (and she asked if I thought she could do 3 in a day without suffering ill effects), who still obsesses over each pound and often whines (sorry, mother, but it’s true) if she’s had a glass of wine or something she feels could knock her back to a size 14 from her current 4. (She’s been at her current weight +/- 5 pounds for more than 10 years.) The exercise half include marathoners and triathletes and cyclists — people who are willing to suffer mightily for hours at a time training only to beat themselves. The other half obsessively watch food intake (or blithely ignore it until everything spins out of control and then they obsessively watch) and exercise normally. I am not certain why we are like this, but we are. (Okay, I do know . . . control issues and a healthy bit of body dysmorphia.)

Body image is fascinating. About 8 years ago, I was smacked in the face with the difference between perception and reality. I was standing in a high-end boutique trying on clothing a couple of weeks before they opened to the public (it was owned by the friend of a work colleague’s daughter). The owner and staff kept bringing me evening gowns and cocktail dresses to try on. Mostly we were playing and they were just bringing me pieces from a new shipment to see how it looked on someone.

Anyway, I tried on this beautiful skirt, bustier top, and cropped jacket from an Italian designer I don’t recall (which I am describing poorly, but it was gorgeous and elegant, in ribboned silk, and would have been well worth the $1,200 price). So I am standing outside the changing room surrounded by these four stunning women who owned or worked there and they asked what I thought. I told them, I kinda love it, but I look a little wide across the hips. I tried on next a gorgeous full length Cynthia Rowley cocktail dress — beautiful, but I had the same complaint. Next outfit, same complaint.

They stopped me and asked: “what sizes do you think you are trying on?” I had no idea. “Size 2 (sample size 2, no less).” Well, that’s a bit surprising, but still, if I look wide in something, I look wide. Then they asked the killer question: pointing to each of them, the 30 year old owner asked “what size do you think she is?” They were all 6s and 8s, these beautiful women.

Huh?

None of us see ourselves as we truly are. We have an image of how we look in our brains and we compare the image we see to the image we know and it all gets a bit confused.

A few years later, I was standing in a clothing store in which my cousin A worked. I had put on about 20-25 pounds in a year from my thinnest weight in my 30s — my horrible year of serious illnesses, injuries, and accidents and dating the ex, who often expressed his love through preparing food. Now, I weighed 140-45 and felt enormous. I wasn’t. I still wore a 6 or an 8, but I knew how disgustingly fat I was. So, I am trying on a beautiful dark denim tailored suit, which would have been perfect for me, and I am turning this way and that and frowning at my reflection. I said, I would love to get it, but I just look so huge. Cousin A, god love her, said,

“You are only fat between your ears.”

Something disturbing: we were looking through my brother’s iPhoto at Christmas and I saw something a bit disturbing — my recovered anorexic cousin B was looking “good” but “thin.” Brother’s gf did not understand why we were so careful in choosing our words or so willing to leave them hanging as we communicated through concerned glances. Brother’s gf is a great girl, but she works in entertainment where very thin = good, so she thought cousin B looked great.

Because I know I tend to be a bit obsessive, I am going to channel it all here and watch for signs of problems. Intellectually, I think I should probably eat a bit more, but I feel satiated, so I am not going to push myself to eat more when I don’t want to. I also know I will be traveling a bit over the next few months, so good habits and reduced appetite now should help set the stage for no major problems then. So far, my eating tracks well with the success I had in March-August when I was steadily losing, so I am going to keep doing it.