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How has your relationship with food changed?



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Betty, when my dh asks what's for supper, I ask him which direction he's coming from and it depends on where he wants to stop and pick it up or does he want a pizza, they deliver! I keep food in the freezer that can be popped into the Advantium and cooked in a few minutes, thank goodness for Sams and costco. A cook I'm not!

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ROFLMAO! My DH cooks very little, and I always cook. I honestly don't like him in the kitchen that much, he really makes a mess. He doesn't know what low heat is, and I have grease everywhere. It is just a little easier all around for me to do it. I don't always like cooking all the time, but at least I know what is cooked is healthy and cooked properly. lol When I get sick and tired of cooking, I tell him we are going out to eat. I don't think I know many women down here in Texas that cook at home, but I know a lot of men that do the cooking. It is quite the opposite up north, most of the women do the cooking. These southern women know how to raise a man now I'll tell you!

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I cook just like your dh and I hate cleaning as bad as I hate cooking. It took me 35 years for my dh to give up and be happy that he got anything, takes a little longer to train them over here on the east coast, lol.

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After reading some of these posts, it's hard to write about myself and not feel like I'm overindulging myself but there is a rhyme and a reason to how I got here. I grew up in that Beaver Cleaver family with a mother and faher who adored each other and us as well. I have an older brother and sister who I hated and adored all through my early years. We were poor but always had enough food on the table and my parents were always able to save up enough to give us a family vacation every year. One would think that our lives were perfect except that from my earliest recollection I was always unhappy, depressed and fat. And looking at the pictures of myself at the young age of 5 or 7 or 10, I don't look fat, a little chunky maybe but not fat. But that's the word that sticks in my brain, the word that caused me hours of unhappiness and crying alone in my room. The word that caused me to quit ballet and tap and gymnastics and softball. Not that I couldn't physically do these things but because no one wanted to watch a fat girl in a tutu, or a fat girl in sequins or watch the fat girl get out of breath when she tried to run around the bases even though she had just hit a home run. And in the midst of all this love and family and fatness, there was my mother, who was fat, and my sister, who was most definately not fat and this idea that everything my mother had once wanted to be was being lived out in my sister and not me because I was fat just like she was. And my brother the jock with his cute friends would protect and take care of my sister, who was just a delicate thing and I could always take care of myself and mow the lawn when he wouldn't because I was fat and I could take care of myself. And so I became the bully, the boisterous one. Loud and strong on the outside, commanding the attention of everyone, making straight A's, excelling in everything I did. And I had friends, everyone wanted to be my friend, the fat fun girl's friend. I did it all and I did it the best and never once would anyone be able to figure out that inside there was a little fat girl who wanted to look pretty. And even in high school when I finally lost the baby fat and became a woman with hips and boobs and a little waist, the ghost of the fat girl haunted me. It was then I learned the power of sex and I used it all through my college years. Revenge for the fat girl. They would never take me out but they would s**** me. And I found a way to control the feelings by binging and eating and didn't it feel good purge it, like purging all that anger and frustration of the little fat girl. A cycle of ups and downs that landed me in the hospital more than a few times and no one could figure out why this girl who had "such a beautiful face if only she would lose some weight" couldn't get her act together. Why she spent days locked in her apartment with 6 boxes of twinkies and a bucket of chicken hiding under the bed, unbeknownst to all. Why she had debt from buying hundreds of dollars of food that could be eaten in a day. Why she was just unhappy all the time. And all the while, my mother would tell me to eat healthy and exercise and I would find a good man, someone who would accept me for who I was while talking about how all my brother's friends were in love with my sister and why couldn't she just pick a good one rather than the bad ones and that I should be happy if I'm picked at all.

So I did find one, that man who loves me for who I am and tells me I'm beautiful, and I got pregnant and had a little girl who I look at everyday and worry that she's going to be a fat girl. I pray that I don't screw her up and make her think that she's not beautiful, no matter what she weighs or how smart she is. And I remember the little fat girl now when I'm driving home wanting to stop at the Burger King for a double whopper meal and a chicken sandwich with a large diet coke that I can so expertly eat in the car before I get home, throwing the bag in the garbage on the way in so as not to let my husband know that I've been binging again. And I thank my band for not allowing me the ability to binge and giving me that pause to think about why I need to eat that food in excess. And for letting me let go of the little fat girl who just wanted to be pretty.

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I read these posts, and I cry, as I nod my head, alone at the computer. Here I am, as expertly descibed in the posts of others as in my own.

No matter how we differ, we have each lived a bit of each other's lives. We have journeyed in each other's moccasins. For, whether you are boy, or girl. Tall or short, from the East, West, North, South, or the great Middle. Other countries, other continents. No matter who or what you are, or where you hail from, prejudice and cruelty is the same.

We can lose the weight. We've proven it, time and again. Fat is the symptom. How we deal with food is the disease. Why we eat, not what or how, or even how much, is the problem.

food is my drug of choice. Always has been. I eat to ease the pain of a heart broken by the cruel words of a friend. I eat to Celebrate even the smallest of life's victories.

You know why there is so much food during the Holidays? 'Cause if we didn't eat to comfort ourselves the stress would make our heads explode.

I want to eat right now. I'm full. My band won't let me eat much. But I feel it. An urge to masticate and ingest edible materials. There is no hunger save the uncertain yearning of a troubled heart.

Two things save me from going on a refrigerator clearing feeding frenzy. 1: The band. The wonderful band. It is my silicone parent who says, "You've had enough, now honey"

2. My LapBandTalk brothers and sisters. The greatest, most supportive, caring and truly understanding family in the world. Thank you for being you. You have saved my life.

Today I am off my diabetic medicine. Today my knees didn't hurt. Today I wore a pair of pants hung at the back of the closet long ago. Today my step was a little lighter, as was my heart.

When I came here I didn't know if I wanted WLS or not. And, if I did, I sure didnt' know which one to pick. Thank you. You didn't sell me on the Band, you sold me on the people, this place, the support system that it constitutes.

So, because of you all, my relationship with food has changed. For, though the siren of gormandry calls me, even if I fail in my fight, and answer that call, my tool inside keeps the damage to a minimum. It gives me a chance to regroup for the morrow. To fall back and try again with new light of day.

Food still calls. It tears at me all the time. But when I do eat, I feel full sooner. I feel full longer. I seem to crave protiens and veggies over sweets...........most of the time.

So I know it will always be there. Somewhere at the back of my consciousness, like an old lover whose memory just won't fade. But I finally have help. I can do this. And so can you.

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Reading these posts I am amazed once again at how similar the stories are. I find that whenever I am among a group of obese or formerly obese people and when we are being honest, the stories of pain, abuse, and deprivation emerge.

BTW, ObesityHelp Magazine (obtainable through the ObesityHelp website) has an article this month about the correlation between poverty or "food insecurity" (not consistently having access to enough nutritious food) leads to obesity.

Nancy

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Nancy, I too, in my life have noticed how many obese people had abuse, or otherwise abnormally stressfull childhoods.

I'm convinced that as the years go by, and as science stops laughing at fat jokes, and studying as the disease it is, they will find a correlation between childhood abuse and obesity.

And the food insecurity thing is interesting, too. I was sixteen and working in my first restaurant before I realized that, to the world around me, a meal consisted of protien, starch and veggies. We often had fried mush, or pancakes, or some other high carb dinner.

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Every now and then I am reminded that my relationship with food hasn't really changed all that much. Like today. I was fine yesterday, but for some reason today I felt down. No friends or family around, so I was feeling a little lonely and bored. Then I went to a movie (Beyone the Sea) which was great, but left me feeling kind of sad.

I decided to binge! Consciously decided to binge. I did realize that I could take a walk or do other things instead, but it just seemed like a binge was what I needed. I've been being very careful about what I eat lately, but today I went and got some hot sesame stick/nut mix, a fast food taco, some stuffed jalapenos, and a candy bar. And I ate it all. Not all at once, but in the course of the afternoon and evening.

And it worked! I feel fine now. I'll probably feel guilty and regretful in the morning, but it really helped my mood.

Alas! Buried beneath the good intentions, the newfound discipline, behind the part in my brain where all the newfound health and nutrition knowledge is stored, beyond the place where therapy could reach is the eating-disordered place in my brain and in my soul that wants high-fat, high-carb food. And when I feed it, it rewards me with a feeling of sedation and well-being. I try to ignore it and to bury it with reason, but sometimes it just will not be denied. It's a beast.

Luckily the band keeps me from feeding it as much as it wants. And the positive changes in my life that the band has wrought provide strong incentive to keep control most of the time. Oh, but the beast is there, just waiting for a moment of weakness and unmet needs. I'm not sure it will ever go away :D .

Nancy

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Jack, you will learn what you can and can't eat. It's different for everyone. bread of any kind is out of the question for me. Melted cheese sometimes doesn't work too well. I can't eat any fresh fruit, really, but I can eat dried fruit. I don't trust crackers. I can only eat a few bites of Pasta. eggs and nuts fill me up very, very quickly, but I can eat a small amount. Crispy things like taco shells or sesame sticks go through very easily which is why I need to avoid them - not to mention they aren't good for my blood sugar.

Nancy

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Nancy, I need to learn from your "binge." If I could stop at what you ate in that one binge episode, I'd be happy. But my binges are a couple Taco Bell Meals, a pint of Ben & Jerry's, large bag Flamin' Hot Cheetos, several candy bars... I won't stop till I can't breathe. It's just a bad, bad habit that I hope the band helps me break one day. I was good with my band for 6 months, but then Christmas hit. I thought I would be able to do some controlled candy eating, so I started with 2 small pieces. But the next day was 4 pieces, and by the end of the week I ate 12 truffles in a few minutes, followed by days of uncontrollable eating. So I have to stick to my band rules of three meals a day, no snacking. If I want a candy bar, I have to make it part of a meal. If I go to the movies, the popcorn has to be a meal. I must train myself to eat only 3 times in a day, otherwise I eat the entire day without ever stopping. Sometimes it's so hard that I don't think I can make it an hour, so I just look at the clock and beg for 10 minutes. Some days aren't too bad, but the week before my period, you may as well lock me up. I'll beat someone up for a binge. I'm considering asking my doctor for some mild diet pills, but this time I'll count my cycle days and plan in advance by taking them for 3-5 days a month, just to get me through that insane period. That should be pretty, a high-strung PMS girl on diet pills. GET OUTTA THE WAY! But I don't know what else to do, my PMS is stronger than me.

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Mine was too, Lisa. I feel for you. I am so glad I got rid of that 'bitch' gland I could still dance and it's been 8 years now. lol.

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True confessions, Lisa: I went out an hour after midnight and got some ice cream and Cookies, too. :devious But today is a new day and I'm resolved to stay on track. Lisa, don't be too hard on yourself. If I didn't have a port and couldn't have proper restriction, my binges would be as mind-blowing as they used to be. That's how I got to a BMI of 40.

Nancy

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Ice cream and Cookies after midnight? You're my kinda gal! Ice cream is my Number 1 binge. I used to eat a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's. But hubby started asking for bites, which would freak me out, so I'd buy his own pint. Well, he only eats a few tablespoons, so I graduated from one pint to almost 2, and that was after eating enough for 2 football players. No matter how full I am, ice cream fits in with no limits.

Leatha, I didn't "become a woman" till I was almost 18. Does that mean I'll have the "beast within me" several years later than most women?

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Guest Suzette

Wow, Delarla....did you ever open up a can of worms............my mother was also mentally ill and the food obsession that I've always had is a result of HER illness. I used to dream of food and how great it would be if I could eat as much as I wanted. My mother didn't allow seconds.....and even though she was a pretty good cook, she also served the dreaded LIVER once a week. Anyway, just like vinesqueen said, I could have written a lot of what you did. Believe it or not, I was a skinny little runt until I got out on my own and THEN the reality of being "free" and eating anything and everything I wanted began. It didn't take me long to "pork up" and have a life long problem with weight and the way I thought about food. Even though I've been banded, I still obsess about food most waking moment. I always felt disloyal about admitting my mother's mental illness because she didn't even realize she was.....but deep in my heart (and with today's awareness) I know she had MANY mental problems. I allowed myself to go in that same direction. With some therapy I'm beginning to be "OKAY".......but do we ever "recover" from childhood tapes? You guys have helped me tremendously by sharing, even if it isn't pleasant "childhood memories"...I don't feel like such a freak either! Thanks so much.....

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