BY LYNDA CHELDELIN FELL
Ten years ago today, I weighed 100 pounds more. Yep, I'm a food addict. There, I said it.
Ten years ago today, I weighed 100 pounds more. Yep, I'm a food addict. There, I said it.
On January 20, 2006, I weighed 227 pounds. My stomach never registered "full," and 30 minutes after a large meal I was already grazing. Sweets was my downfall. It's not an exaggeration to say that I went years without a fruit or vegetable. Cookies, brownies, cakes and pies were my entire food pyramid. Ashamed at my inability to control myself, I put in effort only to watch my weight go up and down like a yo-yo.
So what was my turning point ten years ago? I turned 40. And when I went for my long overdue annual exam, the doctor's scale gave me sticker shock. I knew I was a tight size 20, but inside I felt thin. I was intelligent, loving, caring, and compassionate. I was a good wife, a good mother, I volunteered in the community, and had a soft spot for the underdogs of society. But those qualities were invisible to most, because my book was judged by the cover. And that hurt.
But turning 40 worried me. Struggling with so much additional weight, if I didn't start taking better care of my "vehicle," instinctively I knew my mileage was limited. The sticker shock of the doctor's scale was a catalyst for change.
I knew that if I continued to treat my body poorly, it would treat me poorly.
So ten years ago today, my neighbor and I started walking. She had a puppy that needed exercise, and I was determined to advance into the second half of my life in better shape. So off we went every morning like clockwork. We walked my kids to the bus stop and, when the bus pulled away, we continued on to the nearby cemetery that offered flat pathways, scenic trees, and a peaceful ambiance. Every morning Monday through Friday we walked an average of 2 to 3 miles.
I also changed my diet. I didn't weigh portions, I didn't count calories. My only diet rule was that whatever I put into my mouth had to be nourishing.....it had to be useful to my body. If it came from a box or a can, I knew the artificial additives cancelled out most nutritional value. Which meant that processed food of any kind was not only on the naughty list, much of it was downright harmful.
At first, everything tasted bland and booooorrrring, but I was determined. And, to my delight, my taste buds recalibrated and healthy food actually began tasting good (who knew?!).
Since I didn't own one, my neighbor brought her scale to the top of the driveway on the first of the month so we could check my progress. Between the morning walks and my eating for health, I lost 10 to 12 pounds every month. I didn't have a set weight I wanted to reach. My goal was to get healthy, not wear a bikini. And one day the scale revealed a triumph my neighbor and I never expected: I had shed 100 pounds.
Equally important was the treasured time with my neighbor. Our morning walks became our uninterrupted gab fests allowing us to laugh, vent, cry, and brainstorm. We walked through life's ups and downs including the death of her nephew in a car accident and the death of my daughter in a car accident. We walked through our children growing into adults, getting married, and the delights of becoming grandparents. As we walk through morning sunshine, spring rain, autumn's foliage display, and winter's bitter wind, we share life's challenges, joys, and sorrow. We giggle like schoolgirls at life's humor, and brainstorm over how to solve world problems.
Today as I celebrate ten years of healthful living, I also celebrate a friendship that I treasure beyond words. I'm 50 now and my neighbor is 58, and I imagine we won't be slowing down anytime soon. Happy 10th anniversary indeed!
Do you have your own eating struggles? Join me in sharing our stories in Grief Diaries: Through the Eyes of an Eating Disorder.
