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 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!
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