I have been on a diet since I was adopted at six months old. I’m not joking, take a look at this clip from my adoption paperwork –
I was a baby, and my mother was worried about my weight gain. She told me (in horror) that my foster parents fed me full calorie baby formula, and even let me sleep with my bottle. When she adopted me, she immediately started feeding me low calorie finger foods like fruits and vegetables, and weaned me off the formula. And so it began.
I hit puberty at what was considered early for the time (still is) – at 10 years old. And, wouldn’t you know that the good ole’ BMI calculation became standard in the 1980’s? That was just in time for me to get weighed and measured in P.E. class. I was told that my BMI was too high IN FRONT OF my classmates, and I remember one kid (who shall remain nameless) laughing that I weighed more than he did. I was almost 5′ 2″ and weighed 100 pounds, which, I mean, seems pretty fucking amazing right now, haha.
And thus began my long relationship with Weight Watchers
By middle school I was attending Weight Watchers (WW) with my mother and her friends. The scale showed that I weighed 133 pounds and the WW leader set my goal weight at 115. I think I made it down to 127? I can’t entirely remember. But I do remember how we made “treats” out of WW chocolate mousse packets blended with ice, how we portioned and measured everything, and how full fat anything was demonized.
My mother did the cabbage soup diet, the grapefruit diet, the brown rice diet, Nutri System, and Weight Watchers. She got really skinny using Phen Phen diet pills, and managed to sustain permanent organ damage on those meds that stayed with her for the rest of her life.
When my mother dieted, I dieted. She monitored my eating and weight closely; once she pinched the skin around my hip (in 5th or 6th grade), and said she was glad that it was almost summer because swim team would slim me down. Or, ask me about the time a few years ago (in my early 40’s) when she yelled “you ordered WHAT?” at me across a large family dining table in a restaurant; I had ordered the burger (without a bun), and she was shocked.
Does it make me angry?
Here’s the thing, while it seems as if I’m upset with my mother for this, I’m not (ish). Culturally, this was the norm. I remember going over to one friends house, and his petite mother told us she didn’t snack because she had a figure to keep. Another friend’s mom served us portion controlled meals that were so small, I would leave their table hungry. This obsession with weight was a universal truth for middle class women at that time. I mean, IT STILL IS.
I was on and off of Weight Watchers for most of my 20’s and 30’s. Weight Watchers made me crazy. I mean, really really crazy. Assigning a points value to every food had me carrying a food calculator everywhere (pre-smart phone). I remember getting to 5 p.m. and being out of Weight Watchers points. That meant I could drink water and squeak out an egg white omelet with some broccoli. I got pretty good at ignoring my hunger, and I managed to gain and lose the same 5-10 pounds for decades.
I finally quit WW in my late 30’s when WW changed their plan for the 100th time, and I was over it. Besides, there were free apps like MyFitnessPal that I could use instead! HAHA, geez
I could keep going, and going, and going…
I’m now 45 years old and I am STILL DIETING, only now I call it ‘being healthy’ so as not to admit that I’m dieting. My kids don’t call it dieting because I don’t call it dieting, but they still notice. They are shocked when I eat a piece of bread, because I have been low carb for many years. I have been gluten free off and on and got really into intermittent fasting, too, at a doctor’s recommendation (GF and IF are both allegedly good for those of us with thyroid issues).
In a recent quest for enlightenment, I started to look into Intuitive Eating (the anti-diet). People, 2 of the 10 principles of Intuitive Eating are to “discover the satisfaction factor” and to “feel your fullness” (source). That sounds an awful lot like dieting to me. So even the anti-diet encourages you to, ahem, diet.
While I want to rage against diet culture, I know that it would be pointless. I want to stay healthy, and I want to fit into my clothes. A quick survey of my friends showed that they feel the same – they want to be healthy and to feel good about themselves. But I can’t believe that I have spent 45 years chasing a number on the scale, and frankly I feel pretty rage-y at the thought of spending the next 40-50 years of my life doing the same.
My rant is almost over, I promise, but how do I end this blog post?
I really don’t have an ending for this blog post, except to say that everyone should figure out what they can live with forever, food-wise, and then stick to it. I personally am not giving any more money to the diet industry. I’m just living and trying to be healthy the majority of my days, to balance out the times when I eat that slice of cake. And, knowing that life is short, I will never say no to a warm cookie or a freshly baked croissant again.