Making Peace With My Coke Addiction

How's that for an attention grabbing headline?  But the "coke addiction" I'm talking about involves good old Coca Cola, created in Atlanta by pharmacist John Pemberton, who unfortunately for me isn't an ancestor.  The decision-making involved in consuming this product is indicative of pretty much my entire relationship with food.  I don't drink a whole lot of it, my daily consumption so between 12 and 20 ounces.  One can or bottle each day.  The rest of the time I drink straight water or Crystal Light flavored water.  (The non-alcoholic Appletini is a particular favorite, although I once had to explain to a babysitter just what my five year old meant when he asked for an Appletini with breakfast.)

So I spend a lot of mental energy deciding whether or not to drink 12 to 20 ounces of soda a day.  And I spend a lot more mental energy justifying and then shaming myself for the decision I made.  "Soda is bad and you should eliminate it from your diet" versus "everything in moderation" countered with "is one soda a day really considered moderation" followed by "it's just a freaking DRINK!"  Then I drink it down really quickly figuring that the sooner I get it in, the sooner I can work it off.

I do give up soda for Lent and somehow survive.  It isn't pleasant, but it really does serve as a very good spiritual exercise.  We live in a society where we rarely deny ourselves anything, it is very meaningful to deny yourself something you enjoy while contemplating Jesus fasting in the desert preparing for what was to come.  Of course, during that forty day period (that is actually forty six days) I mull over why I'm willing to give up soda for Lent but not for good.

This may be related to something from my childhood.  Around my third birthday I somehow decided that I would only eat peanut butter sandwiches.  This was obviously a big deal to my mom, after a period of time she took me to the pediatrician who diagnosed it as a “phase” and prescribed "waiting it out."  She tried his suggestion, but I was very committed to my peanut butter sandwich cause.  

We battled over this for three years.  She would make dinner and would tell me that I couldn't leave the table until I'd tried it.  Initially I was very good at secreting a bite into my napkin, then slipping it to our dog.  That plot was foiled pretty quickly, so I branched out to excusing myself to go to the bathroom and flushing whatever was offered.  A few times she sat at the table, not ever taking her eyes off me, to make sure I would take just one bite of something innocuous like a hamburger (or less innocuous like salmon croquettes.)  She'd say I couldn't go to bed until I'd tasted everything on my plate.  I would wait her out until she gave in and ordered me to bed.  (This is why I avoid ultimatums with my own kids, because it would be time to reap what I've sown.)

Now we're not talking about a preference for peanut butter sandwiches.  Other than eggs and bacon or cereal for breakfast and fruit, peanut butter sandwiches were the only food I ate (I also drank a lot of milk.)  During this time my sweet mom would slip a sandwich wrapped in foil or plastic wrap to take to nice restaurants, fast food places, neighbors’ houses, anywhere we went.

So I have some obvious “issues” with food that go way back that interestingly mirror my “issues” with body image and self-worth.  It’s those damn negative voices that never shut up.  But the thing about the voices related to food is that they make good points.  “Why bother fat girl?” is obviously a voice that has bad intentions.  But “soda is bad for you” and “everything in moderation” and “is one soda a day really moderation” and “but it is just a drink” are all valid statements even though they are on opposite sides of the soda argument.

Hollywood thinness is not my goal, and too many good memories have food as a component of them for me to completely give up things like dessert.  Interestingly, ideally I'd like to eat the way I do when on vacation or out with friends, aka, when I am relaxed.  I eat what I want, but the stresses are gone.  At times like that I really enjoy eating, rather than using food as a tool to silence those voices.  I can savor a Coke or chocolate cake, rather than getting it over with so I can work off the calories.  Science tells us that we have to expend more calories than we consume to lose weight, but I don’t think we can discount the emotions behind those calories.  When relaxed, I naturally make better food choices.

I’ve told several people that the blog writing keeps me running and the running keeps me writing.  During the past couple of weeks I’ve let both of those slide and have really missed it.  Glad to be back on track!

Air it out!

I have boys that have apparently inherited a propensity for sweaty feet from both sides of our family.  Add this to Keens and Chacos and you end up with some pretty smelly shoes.  Some of you know what I'm talking about, but if you've been blessed with kids who can wear those shoes without making you nauseous with the odor you should thank God EVERY DAY!

If I haven't lost you yet, please know that I don't just let the stink grow and build.  They are pretty expensive, and apart from the smell they are great play shoes.  So I've tried a variety of methods to get rid of the smell.  Odor Eaters spray, anti-bacterial wipes and sprays, soaking in Oxy-Clean for a couple of days, trying Voodoo spells with leftover Buffalo Wings.  The thing that works better than anything is setting the shoes out in the sunlight for a few hours.  

That's sort of what I'm doing with this blog, letting some of those stinky feelings air out in the bright sunshine.  Two things have happened.  First, so many people have told me that they have those same feelings and hear those negative voices.  While I hate that so many of us have that shared experience, it is interesting that we all have it.  How many of us thought we were the only ones who felt shame or unworthiness?  Some people I viewed as sailing through life told me about their anxieties, and a couple of incredibly sweet people have told me that they are surprised by my writing because to them I appear cool as a cucumber.  

There is a quote attributed to Plato that says "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."  In trying to confirm that it was, in fact Plato, I found other people who may have said it:  Philo of Alexandria and Ian Maclaren, also known as Rev. John Watson.  Not to be confused with Jackson Heights' own Mr. Randy Watson.  You all may know him as Joe the Policeman from the "What's Goin' Down" episode of "That's My Momma." (If you know the source of this quote just let me say “Hello soul mate!”  Or should I say “SOUL-GLO mate?”)

Click here for Jackson Heights' Own Mr. Randy Watson

Anyway, hearing people's responses to this blog has helped me really understand that a lot of us are fighting a hard battle.  And opening up about that battle allows other people to say “Yes I understand, and you are not alone.”  And when you know you’re not alone you feel empowered to do just about anything.

The second thing I’ve noticed about exposing these stinky feelings in this blog is that they now have a much harder time taking hold of me.  They aren’t compatible with sunshine and fresh air.  Or running.  Oddly enough, I feel most “normal” when I’m out on a run; all is right with the world.   I may be slow, but I can outrun the stinky feelings.

Several years ago in Sunday School my friend Clay Brown pulled out a crisp twenty dollar bill and asked if anyone wanted it.  Of course we all said yes.  He then pulled out a container with water and placed the twenty in the water until it was soaked.  He asked us again if we still wanted it and again, we all said yes.  He then pulled out a baggie of dirt and dumped it in the container of water creating some pretty nasty mud.  He ground the formerly crisp twenty in the mud and asked again if any of us wanted the bill.  Again, even though we were in our Sunday best and not in terrible financial straits, all of us were willing to take a chance on a muddy twenty dollar bill.  Clay finished the demonstration by asking why we would place so much value on a soaked, muddy twenty dollar bill while failing to see the value of our own selves beyond the damp, muddy, stinky feelings. God created us for better purposes than that.

Let’s “air it out” and get on with the race!