I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth...SO HELP ME GOD!

“I really don’t eat that much.”

“It doesn’t matter what I do, I just can’t lose weight.”

“I’ve been so good all day, I’m going to treat myself.”

“This one meal is not going to make a difference.”

“But it’s my [birthday/anniversary/cousin’s birthday/sister’s anniversary/Labor Day/Flag Day]!”

Ever heard any of these? Ever SAID any of these?

I’ve said them all.

Multiple times.

And that is why I am still walking around in my big-girl pants.

If I truly want to end my love affair with the elastic waistband, I have to do some serious business with the mindset that spouts out these lies as if they were the truth. Yep. They are lies, every single one of ‘em. And no, the fact that I have spewed them out with great conviction does NOT make them true.

I am a master at self-deception.

This is not an easy thing to admit. In my personal life, in my marriage, in my role as a parent I am committed to living with honesty and integrity. I want to model that for my son. And yet, when it comes to my eating habits, I have been lying to myself for so long that those phrases above have rolled off my tongue without a hint of conscience. I’d even convinced myself that I was telling the truth. But I wasn’t.

For those of us battling a significant amount of weight, we are all guilty of self-deception, and many of us, like me, are masters at it. Before we commit to any program or eating plan, we first have to stop the insanity of our daily self-delusion and commit to brutal honesty about our food and what we are putting into our bodies. It’s hard. It’s uncomfortable. And it is the only way to make a lasting change.

Before we can be honest, I think we first have to dissect the lies:

“I really don’t eat that much.”

               or

“It doesn’t matter what I do, I just can’t lose weight.”

 

Several years ago I watched a documentary on Patrick Deuel, who at the time weighed 1070 pounds – yes, over a half-ton. He complained that the cause of his morbid obesity was little more than unfortunate genetics and said at one point in his interview: “I really don’t eat more than anyone else.” His wife, once out of his earshot, told a very different story. She confessed, with great shame, that she provided him enormous quantities of food – a daily menu consisted of several pounds of bacon, donuts, several large pizzas, buckets of fried chicken, cheeseburgers and french fries. She said that if she refused to provide him the food he demanded, he became so nasty and verbally abusive that she just decided it was easier to give in.

 

While few of us live in denial of THAT scale, I have certainly been guilty of denying the volume of what actually goes into my mouth. I eat healthy food in quantities that negate the healthy aspect. Or, I eat the sensible lunch and then an hour later, feeling hungry, eat the apple I should eat, followed by a crackers, then chips, a few more crackers with cheese, one of Carson’s fruit snacks, a few more chips and before I realize it, I’ve grazed my way into dinner time. My “snack amnesia” kicks in and suddenly I’ve forgotten about everything between lunch and dinner except for the apple and maybe a few crackers. Then I find myself on the scale wondering why my healthy eating plan isn’t working the way the book said it would.

 

I wish I were kidding, but I’ve done this. I’ve seen other people do it. And if you think you ought to be dropping weight like crazy, but you’re not, there is a good chance you are doing it too.

Just sayin’.

 

“I’ve been so good all day, I’m going to treat myself.” 

               or

“This one meal is not going to make a difference.”

 

Both of these make me want to flail my arms up and down like that robot from Lost in Space. “Danger, Will Robinson!! Danger!!” (I know, my age is showing). We’re often not as good as we think we’ve been (see above) and the “treats” are often much “worse” (calorie-wise, fat-wise, etc) than we care to admit. But even more than that, for a genuine food-addicted, chocolate-covered-donut-dreamer like myself, I can find myself so focused on continuously looking for “excuses” to treat myself, I never acquire the taste for healthy snacks or the new, healthy eating habits that I need long term and that is the real problem.

 

In Lysa Terkeurst’s book Made to Crave, she shares her battle to choose her healthy meal and avoid the chips and salsa she really wanted:

I had to stop thinking about what I shouldn’t have and park my mind on thoughts of being thankful for what I could have. I could have delicious grilled fish and steamed broccoli. Food that is healthy and beneficial for giving my body strength. We must embrace the boundaries of the healthy eating plan we chose. We must see them a parameters that define our freedom with things like grilled fish and broccoli, not as horrible restrictions keeping us from chips and salsa (p.150)

It takes time to embrace the healthy options. I know enjoying “natural” snacks is not natural at all to some of us. But it does happen, strangely and inexplicably, it does happen. I may not crave that apple the way I have craved some of those less healthy options, but I’ve discovered that I am actually beginning to enjoy it and I don’t have to deal with the guilt and disappointment in myself afterwards. THAT alone is worth it.

 

“But it’s my [birthday/anniversary/cousin’s birthday/sister’s anniversary/Labor Day/Flag Day/3rd anniversary of my niece's youngest child’s first haircut]!”

 

It’s always something. There is always going to be a holiday or special occasion that screams “Fried appetizers for everyone! Dessert all around!” While I am a firm believer that no one ever got fat because they ate mashed potatoes and gravy on Thanksgiving, I also know that I can find “occasions” 3 times a week to justify a poor choice, whether it’s “But we’re eating at [ _____ ] and I love their [ ______ ] ” or “I am too tired to make a really healthy meal.”

 

My wedding anniversary was last weekend and our celebratory meal was at a restaurant that offers one of my favorite appetizers – fried calamari. I love it, in all its flash-fried goodness, provided it is properly prepared and not overly breaded or over-cooked. But we looked past the calamari and instead we chose an ahi tuna starter with fresh cucumber and mint that was absolutely delicious and completely guilt free. I could have easily justified the unhealthy option: “But it’s our anniversary and we NEVER eat here.” In the midst of a commitment to healthy eating, one special occasion has usually turned into a binge on every forbidden item I could find on the menu. The problem was that in spite of my best intentions, my binge never stopped there. It is as if that one step off the curb left me playing in a street of forbidden food traffic, and time after time, I find myself hit by every culinary temptation that went by. This time, I decided to choose differently. I chose a healthier option for dinner than I typically would have chosen and I ignored the dessert tray entirely, instead choosing a delicious (and much lower calorie) after dinner drink.

 

I walked out of that restaurant comfortably satisfied, not stuffed, and I felt good about the choices I’d made rather than feeling a need to assuage my guilt over bad choices with an endless list of rationalizations. It was empowering and it showed me that good choices leave me feeling liberated, not deprived.

 

As I commit myself to a healthier relationship with food, I have made another commitment to myself:

 

I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.

 

No more lying to myself about what I’m eating or not eating. No more excuses. No more rationalizations. No more pretending. Like any relationship, a healthy relationship with food begins with honesty – brutal honesty – and sometimes honesty is difficult. Even unpleasant. But it is essential. And the “so help me God” part? It isn’t just a cliché, it is essential too. A quick prayer in the midst of decision is often the difference between the carrot stick and the carrot cake. One of them I feel great about afterward, and the other I have to make excuses for. The Lord has proven time and time again that when I let Him, he empowers me to make the better choice.  

 

“…and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32b

Temptation

I discovered something about myself this last week. I discovered that I can sit in front of a bowl of potato chips – TWO bowls, actually – that I desperately want and I CAN choose NOT to eat one.

Not. Even. One.

I was at a friend’s house and snacks had been put out, including the aforementioned potato chips (in two delectable flavors) as well as snack crackers and one lovely bowl of celery, which, in all its pristine, healthful goodness, did not attract my interest whatsoever. The conversation that evening was intense and heavy, and had absolutely nothing to do with my eating issues, but there they were, demanding my attention in spite of the serious discussion underway, and those two little bowls of potato chips were there to exacerbate the situation, mocking me from the coffee table.

The briefest lull in conversation left my mind to momentarily fixate on my desperate desire for a taste of crispy, salty spud heaven. The celery waved its little celery-stalk arms to attract my attention away from the evil flavored tater extravaganza as I found myself justifying just one – or maybe one of each flavor. Or maybe just a broken chip of each flavor…that’s okay, right? I mean, seriously, how many calories are in a broken chip?

It was difficult. Excruciatingly difficult. Embarrassingly excruciatingly difficult. I mean they are POTATO CHIPS for goodness sake!!! Yeeeeah. I know. But anybody else been there? Maybe for you it’s NOT a potato chip or a cheesecake, but maybe it’s:

• a Coach purse you can’t really afford
• those shoes you shouldn’t buy
• that third drink you know you shouldn’t have (or that FIRST drink you know you shouldn’t have)
• that movie you really shouldn’t watch or that book you should avoid
• that comment you shouldn’t make
• that tidbit of gossip you should keep to yourself.  

Temptation is powerful, and it doesn’t matter what it is that lures you in, when desire collides with the verboten, if you choose to resist, you are in for a battle.

When it comes to food, it’s a battle I’d forgotten I was even capable of fighting, much less winning.

In my battle of the bulge, I’ve discovered that my brain goes into justification mode before I even realize that I am in the middle of something.
     I rationalize - how many calories could possibly be in that potato chip crumb?

     I make deals with myself - I will walk more tomorrow to make up for it

     I downplay the significance of the decision at hand - Is eating a potato
        chip really the end of the world?. 

 

Obviously, taken at face value, those seem like legitimate arguments. But they miss the real issue.

 

The issue is not that we’ve chosen to eat that potato chip, or piece of cake, or [insert food you feel powerless to resist], but rather that we’ve (temporarily) lost the ability to make a choice at all – when you consistently just “give in” to whatever craving comes your way, “giving in” becomes a habit – one that is desperately difficult to break.

 

I had become so accustomed to simply caving to my appetite, I was completely out of practice and gave in out of habit as much as a sense of powerlessness.

 

No one knew more about temptation than Jesus. And no one can possibly better understand the temptation of food. 

 

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And after fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. And the tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written, “‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” Matthew 4:1-4

 

My potato chip dilemma is pretty pathetic by comparison. After 40 days of fasting, the hunger had to have been absolutely agonizing. And yet Jesus resisted Satan’s suggestion that He call upon His divine power to make the trial easier on himself.  Jesus recognized that the issue was greater than His hunger and whether or not he would choose to supernaturally produce the food that would satiate it.  The issue was obedience. And although Jesus was (and is) divine, He was also very human and there was most assuredly a battle raging within His humanity. How did He withstand it? He rejected the lies (rationalization, etc.) and chose instead to speak truth out of Scripture.

 

When we face temptation with food, we can be absolutely confident that Jesus has walked in our shoes - even in this - and He truly understands the battle that rages within as we struggle with those choices. C. S. Lewis, in his book Mere Christianity, explains:

 

Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means—the only complete realist (p 125).

 

In the days since the potato chip incident, I have begun to rediscover my will and the power of Scriptural truth in the face of temptation. Each time I choose a healthy choice over an unhealthy one, I perpetuate a new habit – a habit of self-control. I am discovering that self-control is not only possible, but invigorating, and I’ve discovered that when my will is weak, I can - and desperately need to - depend on the power of prayer to keep me strong.

 

For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

Self-loathing, Messes and Lies, Oh My!

I am on the scale this morning and the nasty little imp that dances around and points to the number while laughing hysterically is back. The 2-pound loss I was so pleased with earlier in the week has come back to find me. The “imp,” of course, is all in my head (you hope, for my sake) but I feel as if he’s there pointing and laughing and mocking me, doing the Macarena and using exaggerated gestures for the part where he slaps his backside, as if it is so gigantic, he can scarcely reach it. I am annoyed with myself and revert to my habit of self-loathing. Before I know what I’m doing I’m in the pantry eating a reduced fat cookie and thinking “Why do I even try?!”

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Back this train up!!

If I allow self-loathing to creep in, I spend all of my energy feeling foolish and embarrassed. Self-loathing says “You’re an idiot. You have no self-control. No discipline. Seriously, two weeks in and you’ve already blown it? Pathetic. Here, eat a low-fat cookie. Or a cheesecake. Go ahead…you’ll feel better, really.”

The devil may not really be a little red guy with horns and a pitch-fork, but I’m pretty sure that self-loathing personified looks exactly like that. And it gets me over and over again.

My little red friend is a deceiver and a fraud.

Self-loathing uses all of our energy on self-flagellation and leaves nothing in the tank for strategizing on how to make better choices the next time, and THAT is what makes it such a waste.

I made another unpleasant discovery about this emotional waste of energy: When I berate myself over the poor choices that convert to extra pounds, I FEEL as if I’m repentant for those choices, but when it comes to the work of actually PROVING that I’m repentant by making better choices going forward, I justify and deny. I justify the cookie by saying “but I did so well all week” and I deny that the quantities I ate were out of line. It’s so much easier to beat myself up about my bad choices (or deny their impact) than it is to change them. I get to feel as if I care while continuing the self-destructive behavior that suggests I really don’t.

I threw the rest of the cookie in the trash and sat down for a moment to think honestly about the last few days. It was Labor Day weekend and Dave went camping with a friend of his. I took my son to a movie and ate popcorn that I’d planned on with a Coke that I hadn’t. Two dinners at my mom and dad’s were dominated by poor choices and poor portion control. It was enough to reverse the 2 pound loss I’d been so proud of earlier in the week. And enough to bring around my old friend self-loathing to remind me what a failure I am.

But I’m not falling for his derailment tactics this time.

I can continue to hate being overweight. Or I can change it. It’s that simple. Simple, but oh, so difficult in its execution.

I have to continue to identify the emotional aspect to my desire for food. I have to learn to actually think not only about what I’m eating, but control how much – especially when I’m eating away from home, outside the safety of my pre-planned menu. And I have to pray. A lot.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that part of me truly hoped that once I had identified my “issues” with food and recognized how my idolatrous relationship with chocolate was adversely affecting my life (physical and spiritual) that God would supernaturally free me from those issues. While God certainly has the power to do that, He also has the wisdom not to.

Like most 4-year-old boys, my son loves to make a mess. Last winter he went through a stage where he would dump his toy bins – ALL of them – out on the floor creating a massive pile of Fisher-Price chaos in the middle of his playroom. This was great fun until it came time to clean it up. The first few times he did this, I helped him. It was a pretty overwhelming job for a 3 ½ year old, and I thought that as long as he was also putting things away, there was no reason not to help expedite the process. One morning, when I heard the sound of the first bin being dumped out, I added something new to my “Please don’t do that” speech. It was “If you choose to dump out all of your toys, I will not help you clean up the mess. You will do it yourself.”

He smiled sweetly at me and proceeded to dump them out onto the floor. I smiled back. And then, in a while, when he was ready to move onto something different, I reminded him that he needed to take care of Mount Playskool before he did anything else. He quit smiling.

Clean-up was excruciatingly slow. There was a lot of whining. And crying. And fussing. I stood firm and reminded him that I had warned him ahead of time that if he chose to make that mess, I would not help clean it up. And I didn’t. Finally, the last of the cars and blocks made their way back into the bins.

I would love to say he never did that again, but he tried it twice more after that. Each time I made him clean it up himself. Each time it was excruciatingly slow. Each time, more tears and more fussing. But I stood firm and now he doesn’t make those messes anymore.

He learned that the fun just isn’t worth the unpleasant cleanup.

In some ways, my world isn’t so different from Carson’s. Like him, I have to come to a place where I understand that the “fun” of bad eating habits just isn’t worth the unpleasant cleanup.

God could certainly have miraculously changed my mindset about food to help me clean up my mess. But I wouldn’t learn anything. If I had continued to pick up Carson’s pile-o-disaster, I guarantee he would still be making it. It is only the impact of having to clean it up himself that makes him think twice before he starts dumping.

God is going to allow me to go through the difficult and sometimes unpleasant process of cleaning this thing up because through this process He wants to teach me how to become better equipped to handle life down the line. He wants me to depend on Him, not food, and though it may take tears and fussing, I’m going to learn that.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul says:

But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Philippians 3:13b-15

I choose to look forward, not back. I am cutting ties with self-loathing and am choosing to press on. A healthier me is only part of the goal, and the prize is so much greater than just a smaller-sized wardrobe. Ultimately the journey is a spiritual one as much as a physical one, and it is the journey that matures me.

On to a new week!