Overcoming Cream Sauce...Take 2

I am about to re-embark on the journey I began several years ago. A journey I started with great intentions and greater hopes, a journey that I fully intended would take me to a new place where special occasions requiring a nice dress and possibly a photo didn’t send me into fits of self-loathing. A place of understanding as to why my roughest days seem to end up in the bottom of a gallon of ice cream and my best days seem to justify the same, the only difference being whether or not I care that some of it ended up on my shirt. A journey that I never finished and in truth barely even started.
 

A journey that I intend will leave me 50 pounds lighter than I am right now.  

I was a little hesitant to blog this time around. After my last failure I was feeling a little embarrassed. It was as if I’d planned a big cruise, bought the appropriate cruise-wear and brand new luggage, stocked up on Dramamine and magnetic bracelets and told my friends to meet me at the launch point. Then the day of the cruise arrives. The sun is shining, the mood is festive and I am on board the ship ready to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. I lean over the railing, catch the attention of my beloved friends and wave farewell with great enthusiasm as the horn blares it’s Bon Voyage and the ship pulls slowly away. Then quietly, I slip from the crowd at the rail and make my way to the far side of the ship where I climb into a little life boat, lower myself into the choppy sea, row to shore and slip into an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. Meanwhile, my friends, who’d waved their supportive goodbyes, are envisioning my fantastic adventure, anxious to see the miraculous transformation that is sure to take place. Little do they know I didn’t even stay on the ship. I did the easier thing and made my way quietly back home. But this “home” is uncomfortable. This home is embarrassing. This home is a place of shame and self-loathing. But this home is familiar and I’ve been here so long that I hardly know how to rearrange the furniture, much less move to somewhere new.

It’s not really about the food. It’s about my “go to.” My “go to” is simply what I “go to” when I’m stressed or angry or sad or celebrating or bored. We all have a “go to.” Some of us exercise or run (why, oh why can’t that be mine!), some of us head out on the town for a night out looking for attention or physical intimacy, Some of us drink or use drugs, some of us bury ourselves in our work or our roles as a mom, and some of us eat. And eat. Aaaand eat.

In the past I’ve tried to resolve my weight problem by making better food choices and simply eating healthier foods in smaller portions. While this sensible approach certainly reduces my dress size it doesn’t resolve the “go to” problem that got me into double-digit sizes in the first place. As a result, I never manage to stick with the program. I can change my behavior for a little while, but since I’ve not changed my motivations, eventually the scale ticks up again and I end up right where I started.

It is at our “go to” that the physical intercepts the Spiritual. God made me with a “go to” but He wants my “go to” to be HIM and not french fries. He wants me in His Word when I’m stressed, He wants to fill me with His peace when I’m angry, He wants to meet me on my knees when I’m sad, to shower me with His love when I’m celebrating and He wants to fill those moments of boredom with something to satisfy my soul, not my taste buds.

There is another problem as well. It finally hit me during my last foray into weight-loss. I was doing some personal “brainstorming” on what I would “reward” myself with if I lost 20 pounds. A new dress? A new bag to haul my computer and books? A trip to the spa? Nope. You know what I came up with? You know what I wanted more than any of those things? A donut. A cake donut with chocolate frosting. I actually thought “When I lose twenty pounds I am going to go get 2 cake donuts with chocolate frosting and I’ll wash them down with an iced cappuccino.”  Embarrassing.  Pathetic.  But it made me realize that what I am eating is really only a symptom of a bigger problem. Of all the things I could use to reward myself, nothing was as appealing to me as FOOD.

I have a serious craving problem and my butt is just one gigantic symptom of it.

Most weight-loss plans assume that we are fat because we simply don’t know when we are full. They suggest foods that make us feel fuller longer and offer healthy options to satisfy our cravings. Two things make this approach an epic fail in my world:

1. If I want McDonald’s French fries, my hunger or fullness is pretty much irrelevant. And I can tell you that I have never been too full to thoroughly enjoy a piece of key lime pie.
2. Whenever I hear someone say “If you crave something sweet, eat an apple” I want to punch them in the throat. When I am craving something sweet, an apple doesn’t cut it. Seriously. That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I can eat a dozen apples but I’m not happy until I’ve eaten a pint of Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream. The whole pint. By myself. If that kind of craving doesn’t make any sense to you, then please don’t offer your advice on how to deal with them. You really have no idea what you’re talking about. (Do I sound bitter? Okay, maybe just a little. Maybe I’m just a little angry that I didn’t end up with the “constant exercise” craving).

When I discovered Lysa Terkeurst’s book Made to Crave I felt as if I’d finally discovered someone who understood my struggle. She says “Not once in my life have I ever craved a carrot stick” and she admits that she can feel completely full after a meal “and still crave chocolate pie for dessert.” THIS is someone who gets me.  THIS is someone who gets me and has won her battle with food. THIS is someone who gets me, has won her battle with food, and recognizes that there is a significant Spiritual component to the thing.

She says:

I believe God made us to crave. Now before you think this is some sort of cruel joke by God, let me assure you that the object of our craving was never supposed to be food or other things people find themselves consumed by…Yes, we were made to crave – long for, want greatly, desire eagerly and beg for – God. Only God. But Satan wants to do everything possible to replace our craving for God with something else (p. 20-21)

I’ll be referencing Lysa’s book off and on throughout this journey because she has identified the heart of my problem with food. I crave it more than I crave God. I have given food a place of prominence in my life that should be reserved for God alone and until I turn that around my weight loss successes are going to continue to be only temporary.

So, I’m back on the proverbial ship and I’m in for another adventure. I’m sure there will be times that I’ll be tempted to jump into one of those life-boats and row for shore, but I think I’ve found my “want to” and I really, really don’t want to be at home in those big ol’ pants anymore. By the grace of God, I’ll need a new wardrobe by spring.

Till next time, Bon Voyage!