'Tis Better to Add Than Subtract

Why is maintaining healthy habits so difficult for me? I know that I will feel better and look better if I eat nutritious foods, drink lots of water, get some exercise, and go to bed at a reasonable time, and yet I rarely do any of these things. I perpetually make all sorts of choices that negatively affect my body, and then I feel bad about myself for not making better choices. Ever thought that?

I have yo-yo dieted for years (I know...it's an old story), and now I just feel physically wiped out. I don't think I have it in me to launch into any great and grand new health plans anymore. Trying to whip myself into a motivational fervor is out of the question.

 Here's what I detest about diets:

1. They consumes me. All of the planning, weighing, counting calories, measuring food, and fretting over the process wears me out. 
2. They are frustrating when they don't work consistently. I tend to get obsessed with a new diet, but at the first sign of a plateau, I bail. Sometimes, I believe that diets simply set us up for failure. I've known very few people who have succeeded, long-term on a diet, not matter what diet it has been.
3. They are restrictive. The fastest way to get me to crave a particular food is to tell me that I am not allowed to have it. I hate being told that I am "not allowed" to eat something, and my somewhat rebellious nature has come out screaming eventually with every diet I've ever been on.

In light of these three things, I hear by declare that I am divorcing the dieting lifestyle...for good! No longer will I plan and scheme. No longer will I attempt to permanently subtract foods from my world. No longer will I obsess about food or my weight.

I am letting it go. I am going to choose to focus on a life of addition versus subtraction.

What does this mean? It means that I am going to focus on adding things to my life that bring health and happiness, instead of hyper focusing on subtracting the things from my life that I have labeled as bad.

Here's what I am going to add this week:

1. Time with people I love (you can never get enough of this).
2. More prayer (the ultimate in time with One whom I love).
3. Lots of water (I've been feeling really dehydrated lately ~ whew).
4. Fruit (it's back in season!)

Warmest Wishes! ~Katie

I Think I Have Forgotten Who I Am

I think I have made a mistake. Somewhere along the path of my life, I have forgotten who I am. It seems that I have mistaken myself for FAT. How could this have happened?

When I was a little girl, I was skinny and gangly, or at least, that is what I have believed about myself for many, many years. My mother quite commonly commented on how skinny I was as a kid, always with an attitude of there being something wrong with my degree of thinness. I believed her. I believed that my knees were knotty and my elbows absurdly pointy. I believed that I was all angles and shockingly ungraceful. I believed that my body was not attractive. More than that I thought that I must look weird. I remember being as young as ten and wishing that I were more shaped like some of my friends. I wished that I were more coordinated. I believed these things until two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago, I took a dance class. I typically take a weekly yoga class at a local studio to help me stay limber and fight off some aches and pains. This particular night, however, I had a late appointment and would not be able to attend my usual class. I was on the phone with my mother while looking over the studio's evening schedule, and we were chatting about what class I might take instead. I read the description of a class called Nia Dance, and my mother's immediately response was to say in a dismissive tone, "Well, that one is definitely out of the question." This comment cut deep into an old wound I must have had. Initially I thought, "She is right." As I let my emotions simmer, I realized that I was beginning to feel angry. The short ending to the story is that I took the dance class.

This was a big step for me. I am the girl who holds her friends' purses while they hit the dance floor. I am the one at the wedding that claims that her new heels are too tight for dancing that night. I have sat on the sidelines of more dances or athletic games than I care to recall because I have historically been too afraid of looking ridiculous klutz join in the fun. That night, I decided to risk it.

I stepped out onto my first dance floor in a decade and waited for the music to start. As I stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors of the studio and began moving with the rest of the class, I was struck by an incredible revelation. I am averagely graceful. I am not Ginger Rogers nor am I Beyonce Knowles. I did not pick up every move on the first go-round, but I did dance and I did have a fluidity of movement about me that was both surprising and appealing. I could hear the sharp crack of a thirty-five year old negative self-concept beginning to break.

I went home that night confused. What else have I assumed about myself that is not necessarily accurate or healthy? This question kept me up long after my husband was softly snoring by my side. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes in the middle of the night and stood naked before the mirror. I looked at my body very carefully. Gone are any of the supposed angles of my childhood. My frame is now smoothly covered in about fifty pounds of extra fat. I am rounded and full. I thought to myself, "Wow, I am fat."

"I am fat...I am fat...I am fat." What a definitive statement. I think it like it is the basis of my identity, the same way that I thought, "I am bony" as a little girl. Then I had my second revelation for the day. I define myself by my weight. Not describe, but define. All of the qualities I possess, experiences I have had, relationships I maintain, and I boil them all down to the definition of "I am fat." 

Is that true? Is the totality of who I am equal to "fat?" I know that the obvious answer, the rational answer, is "no," but is it possibly the true answer? Upon reflection, I realize that, indeed, I do believe that the sum of who I am is "fat." This is the basic identity out of which I function everyday. I can intellectually accept the concept that this cannot be true, but somehow I have forgotten who else I might be other than "fat." 

I think I have forgotten who I am.

-Katie