Thoughts and Musings That Probably Shouldn't Be Posted

I think I’ve mentioned before that I have a mental binge map: Nearly everywhere I’ve ever been, I can remember what I’ve eaten and how I felt, and usually, how hard I tried to resist. On Sunday, as I headed over Hammersmith Bridge en route to lunch, I looked at the bridge's cast iron green casings and thought: When was I last here?

It was last winter, with BN2 and his daughter, driving out into the country. I’d been jumpy and anxious then, worried about what we’d eat and when, and worried about how I’d bear it when, inevitably, he ordered a pudding and I’d have to sit there, still hungry (or thinking I was) and watch. I worried about how I’d handle the endless junk-food eating that also, inevitably, would persist throughout the afternoon, and I’d have no way to distract myself. Basically, I worried. And I thought about how hungry I was.

This Sunday, I thought about how grateful I am for how far I’ve come. I can sit with people who are eating and not be overly consumed by it – or the need constantly to find some excuse to get up so I can get away from it. I don’t worry (much) about what time we’ll eat or whether I’ll be able to find something to eat. (On Sunday, for example, I skipped my usual morning snack because we were having lunch about noon – earlier than usual for me.) I’d been craving sausages and mash when I saw it on the menu – could almost taste it -- but they’d run out of it, and I managed not to behave like a spoiled child being denied dessert (you wouldn’t believe how irrationally angry I can be sometimes when what I crave isn’t available). I had an unsatisfying stew and decided to split an apple crumble with custard with a friend (and had more than my share). This did not ruin my afternoon or make me think I’d blown everything, and therefore should have a cream tea and maybe a takeaway for dinner.

Ishmael asked a while back about whether I did more bingeing during my weight loss phase than I do now that I’m in “maintenance” (I’ve actually never used that word – I just take it one day at a time), and why I think that is. I do binge more infrequently now, and the binges are often less severe (though I did plenty of damage in August, so I’m still capable of being hell-bent on self-destruction). But I think that has less to do with whether I’m on a diet and more to do with practice. I’ve identified (a lot) of the triggers. I know what it feels like to have several days and weeks binge-free (and it feels better, both physically and emotionally). I know how to handle the times when I just want to eat – and I know that the times will pass. (Sometimes three days later, but they will pass.)

Some of this has been figuring out that (yes, I know this isn’t a great revelation) I can eat what I want – just not all at once. (I am quite possibly the only person I know who sees a half-eaten package of biscuits in my house and thinks of it as a trophy – see, I didn’t eat the whole thing at once.) Very, very slowly I’ve been incorporating a lot of foods into my diet that used to scare me because I was convinced I’d eat the whole package/cake/etc. If you’re a foodie, you’ll probably turn up your nose at what I do, but at the moment I still have a bias towards anything for which I can figure out the calorie content. This is because I’m still learning what a portion is, and how I feel after it, and what sort of calorie bang I can get for my buck. Basically, if I have a 200 calorie snack, do I want a whole can of soup or three measly little chocolate biscuits? Often I do want the biscuits, but if I’m very hungry, I may go for volume. And often, I’m “scared” of foods without reason – when I actually go and look at the calorie count, they can and do fit in to a healthy diet. Case in point: Bacon. A couple of months ago I finally flipped over to the nutritional information on a package in the supermarket, and figured out that I could grill a couple of slices and have them on toast with a fried egg – good Jewish girl that I am, I loved bacon and egg sandwiches as a kid. And the entire sandwich has similar calories to my usual morning porridge. This means if I see a bacon and egg sandwich in a restaurant and want it – or I’m at a friend’s – I might have it instead of yearning for it but ordering something "healthier" and then going home and eating more than I'd have eaten if I'd just ordered the damn sandwich in the first place. Sure, there is likely to be some butter and oil I wouldn’t use myself, but let's face it, it isn’t the diet equivalent of eating a Craz-E burger (actually, I would never eat a bacon cheeseburger with a buttered, grilled glazed doughnut for a bun, but you get the idea.)

My package-penchant doesn’t mean I won't spreaad the calorie-love to anything not in cellophane (or, thank you very much, recycled paper) or from a restaurant that lists its nutritional info – although when things are tough (as they have been recently), I feel safest doing that, and it’s what requires the least thought. I also retreat to what I know is safe after several days of off-piste eating. Sunday and Monday I had desserts plus snacks that were a lot more calories than usual (Costa flapjack, I’m looking at you). Of course I wanted to graze my way through Tuesday, eating as I wanted, but I knew it was time to get back on track. It’s suddenly sunk in what I’ve been hearing and reading for years: One huge meal or dessert doesn’t stick a fork in the diet. It’s how you react afterwards. (Someone please remind me of this come the holiday season…)

Of course, I can say all this calmly now, when I’ve just had four chocolate biscuits (a serving) for a snack and am not being confronted with food, food choices, or extreme hunger. There are other times when I feel right back where I started. On Monday night, I’d just about finished congratulating myself for not freaking out that I wasn’t getting dinner until 10 pm and suddenly I was in the Tesco buying it and just wanted everything. I debated various foods and thought: Hmmm, would it be so bad if I bought the package of 4 scones and had 2 for dinner? And when I’m in that mindset, I know that often, yes it would. In the end I had pancakes, partly because I know I can eat all of them. Even though the meal should have satisfied me, it didn’t. Some days are like that.

As I went to bed that night, still trying to decide if I were hungry, it occurred to me that hunger used to terrify me. It doesn’t anymore. It’s actually one of my greatest joys – that feeling of an empty stomach and the prospect of filling it. (Everything tastes better when you’re hungry.) I rarely had that feeling when I binged frequently – I was too stuffed with either calories or shame, or hungover from both. To me now, hunger – gentle “it’s time for lunch” hunger, not the shakes or the stomach-roiling get-me-food-now – is a sign that I’m taking care of myself properly. It’s a gentle signal that every day and all day I have a choice -- of what to eat and how much -- and these days, at least, I’m making a lot of good ones.