Manifesto of a Hungry Woman

To my great surprise, I have received multiple requests to re-post my weight-loss article that appeared on my blog months ago.  I had to remove it momentarily because, and I was hesitant to publicly share this, it was accepted for publication in the January 2012 edition of HomeLife magazine, published by LifeWay.  Hence, they owned the rights to it for the three months following publication.

Now my rights are back, and I'm re-posting it as a way of resurrecting my blog since my long absence from moving (and no internet) and as a segue into a few posts on weight and pregnancy (stay tuned for those in a couple of days).

So here it is, in the more full version I originally wrote (the article in HomeLife was understandably copyfitted for space concerns...editing terminology for "your article is unbelievably long!").  I do want to preface briefly that since writing this and receiving lots of wonderful feedback, I am amazed at how DIFFERENT we all are in our respective journeys.  So please keep this in mind as you read: this is NOT a prescription; it is a testimony.  It is my personal account of learning to walk in the Spirit in the area of food.  And because the Spirit uniquely leads each of us, allow Him room to lead you differently than He did me.

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Manifesto of a Hungry Woman

Manifesto: a proposal.

     Like many women, my relationship with Food has been an emotional pendulum swinging from friend to foe.  I have spent 25 long years either guiltily indulging in, or painstakingly abstaining from, Food.  With the grit of a soldier I have cut out food groups, adhered to strict exercise regimens, and drank my weight in water, all to shed those twenty pounds that always seemed to creep back on like a river threatening the brim of its levy—that being the waistband of my favorite jeans.  As soon as I began to brim over their edge, sucking in every extra inch in order to button them, and lumbering around as if my knee joints no longer existed, I resolved to fight the flood once more with all the urgency of a natural disaster.

     And so I attacked my mid-line, as if it were my enemy--- and believe me here, I have won every time.  Losing weight has never been a problem for me.  A few months of abstinence and tremendous displays of willpower usually provide those few inches required to comfortably slide back into my pants.  No, losing weight is not the issue here.  It’s keeping it off. 

     Like most dieters, after dieting, I would spend about a month or so obediently maintaining the restrictions.  But then, gradually, the relationship would sour in the face of sweet treats and carbs.  Alas, seduction would win out in the end, and before I knew it, pounds were slipping back on again, the waters were rising, threatening to brim my carefully-built levy, that perfect size I had arbitrarily decided was “ideal.”

     But then the day came when the levy broke.  And I was drowning.

     I still remember it distinctly.  It was the New Year of 2011 and my first-born, a beautiful girl, was turning one-year-old soon.  I had resorted to digging out my maternity jeans once more because I couldn’t bear the thought of purchasing a larger size (it was over the “limit” of my mental size restrictions).  I couldn’t comfortably fit into my “big” jeans, much less my “skinny” ones, but I couldn’t bear the shame of that ghastly next-size-up, as if it was a label on my forehead instead of the inside flap of my jeans.

     And you know we do it.  We women walk around with our dress size next to our names and list of accomplishments—or failures.  You know you’ve walked around in that size 8 dress feeling like a million bucks, a smile plastered on your face, and confidence exuding from your every word.  And then the next day you mope around in those size 12 pants (because, of course, there’s some unspoken law that clothing designers adhere to that says pants must always fit tighter than dresses) feeling frumpy, insecure, and resentful.  Why?  Because you know that size 8 means “beautiful” and size 12…well, it just doesn’t.

     Our dress size defines us.  If only we could just rip those pathetic little tags off, I’m confident our self-esteem would skyrocket.  How much power we give those tiny, printed squares of fabric!  They attempt to command us, determine our mood, and shape our outlook—and we allow it without even so much as a fight.

Well, let’s just say that that tiny square of fabric with the embroidered “12” was becoming an oppressive tyrant New Year’s Day, and I was getting fed up with it.  It’s like I finally saw the situation for what it was: me, completely enslaved to an inanimate label—and something else far less innocuous.

     I was addicted to overeating.

     For years, I blamed my weight gain on body type, heredity, environment, low self-esteem, emotional eating, and the ever-convenient “I’m eating for two” pregnancy excuse.

     But now I was staring the thing straight into its ugly face: and my own face met me in the mirror.  It was me.  It was my fault.  I had no, and I mean zero, restraint.  I was overweight because I had totally lost, or perhaps never possessed, the ability to say “no” when my flesh cried out for that second piece of cake, to say “wait” when my eyes were bigger than my stomach in the buffet line, to say “enough” when I’m more than full but still compulsively cleaning my plate. 

     And that was a sad, disturbing thing to stare in the face.  I didn’t like to confront that ugly part of myself that actually wants, and I mean strongly desires, to do what is “bad.”  And as soon as I recognized it in this area of eating, its ugly influence suddenly asserted itself in so many other areas as well.

     I had no self-control.  Plain and simple.

     And then the second paralyzing thought hit me.  Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit.  By this point a barrage of thoughts began to assault my mind like a long line of mental dominoes.  If I don’t have self-control, then I’m not living in the Spirit.  If I’m not living in the Spirit, I don’t have access to His power.  And if I’m not drawing on His power, then there is no way I can ever permanently win any personal and/or spiritual battles.

     Up until this point, all of my battling had been with the weapon of Self: Self-will, Self-determination, Self-esteem, Self-denial, Self-reproach, Self, Self, Self.  And Self is a successful method.  For a little while.  But it doesn’t stand the test of time because Self and the Flesh are intimately connected.  They’re like corrupt business partners.  Self is the flattering PR parading innocently around, promising us with litanies of comfort, esteem, and convenience; Flesh is the force behind the PR, the uglier--but deadly--side of the duo that drives those ghastly urges, compulsions, drives, and cravings to the forefront of our minds.  Flesh is hard to ignore, especially when we we’re only seeing Self.  We mistake that extra cookie for happiness, that mercy-eating of a bad brownie as appreciation, and that plate of pasta as a well-deserved reward.

     But, as a believer, I am not bound to the Flesh.  It has been crucified with Christ—its power is gone.  So why am I so obeisant to its demands?  Because I choose to be.  Every time I obey Flesh’s impulses instead of walking in the Spirit’s power, I pick its lifeless form off the ground and slip it back on, obeying “the former lusts” to which I used to be enslaved.

     So there I was in January of 2011 realizing two things about myself: 1) I was not walking in the Spirit, and 2) as a result, I was overeating.  And then God worked to equip me with the tools I needed to move forward in this.  First, He brought a nutritionist friend across my path who confirmed my suspicion that dieting was not the answer.  She encouraged me to “intuitively” eat.  And that’s really just fancy nutritionist terminology for “eat when you’re hungry and stop when you’re satisfied.”  Hardly rocket science.  And yet so few of us do it.

The second thing God did was lead me on a still-continuing journey on what it means to walk in the Spirit.  And it soon became clear that it would take all of the Spirit’s resources to do this very simple approach to Food. 

     So here was my new approach: 1) pray for the Spirit’s control as part of blessing my food, 2) eat whenever I was hungry, 3) eat whatever I was craving, and 4) stop at the very moment I felt satisfied, even if that meant (gasp) food would still be on the plate.

     At first I thought that just paying attention to my body’s cues would be easy.  The prospect of no food restrictions, no dietary lists, and no endless, sweaty hours in the gym was exhilarating.  But I soon realized how completely disconnected I had become from my body’s cues.  It felt nearly impossible to distinguish true hunger pangs from my habitual reaction to the clock telling me it was time to eat.  Bored, emotional, and sight eating also paraded as “hunger,” and I really had to rely on the Spirit’s guidance to reveal those urges for what they truly were.

     Gradually, my body and I became more and more in sync.  For the first time in my life, I was listening to my body in the way God had designed.  As soon as I felt hungry, I asked myself, “What sounds good right now?”  Then I would dole out a reasonable portion and slowly eat it, savoring the flavor and texture, truly enjoying it as God intended instead of mindlessly inhaling it.  As a result of slower eating, I could actually feel my stomach gradually become sated.  And as soon as the hunger subsided, I would stop and put the excess food out of my sight, telling myself that I could always eat more of it later when my hunger returned.

     I stopped eating every meal as if it were my last.   I stopped dreading eating out and just ordered whatever I wanted on the menu.  I stopped ignoring hunger pangs and skipping meals.  I stopped mindless eating or eating foods that I didn’t even like.

     And the results?

     

     My diet completely and naturally changed.  I found a new pattern emerging: I was hungry about every 3 hours for protein- and vegetable-rich meals (not snacks, mind you: meals).  That surprised me.  I felt like I was eating all the time!  It worried me.  How in the world could I lose weight when I was eating so much?

But here’s the second thing that naturally emerged: my portion sizes were half, and often a quarter, of the size that they had been.  I was shocked, just floored, at how little food was required to satiate my hunger.  I felt like this out-of-control, raging beast inside had been tamed and come out a playful and loving kitten.  Meals were now something I enjoyed.  Food became something I controlled with the Spirit’s power, not something that controlled me.  And food and guilt never associated again.  If I truly craved a brownie, I would happily begin eating one.  But then I would stop as soon as that craving was met, which was usually only about half the usual serving size.

     Change number three was equally as surprising.  I didn’t go out of my way at first to eat “good” foods.  I tried to shed my old labels of “good” and “bad” foods.  I became convinced that no food is “bad,” it’s just our behavior toward it that is reprehensible.  We have amazing control around vegetables, restraining our portion sizes and leaving that extra bit of spinach on our plates, but then we turn into mindless predators around cake, pasta, and potatoes.  The food isn’t the problem: we are.

     But through shedding the traditional food labels, I found that I was paying closer attention to how certain foods made me feel after consuming them.  I discovered myself rejecting the piece of fried chicken for chicken salad not because a dietary plan told me to or because “fried” equals evil.  I made that choice because my body reminded me of how gross I felt the last time I ate a piece of fried chicken.  Vegetables and fruit became almost constant cravings, as well as lean sources of protein.  Our bodies know what they need; we just don’t listen.

     And finally, if only in this one area of my life, the Spirit was in control.  It wasn’t my willpower, my striving, my everlasting trying and struggling and crawling toward perfection.  It was God.  I just kind of sat back and let Him do what He does best: empower me to do what the Spirit tells me I should.  It was so freeing.  At last I was trading the rocky mountain climbs of trying and river rapids of desire for His faithfully-promised green pastures and still waters.

     Oh, and I lost over fifty pounds.

     But really, that was just icing on the cake.  To finally approach food with enjoyment, restraint, and calm was everything.  And to unlock the Spirit’s control in at least one area of my life was even better.  I can’t believe I’ve spent 25 years largely depending on Self.  What a precious waste of time and energy.

     But no more.

     A lot of people have asked me, “So you’ve lost a lot of weight, haven’t you?  Care to share your secret?”  I just laugh and say, “Do you have about an hour?”  It’s not an easy answer or single-method secret.  It’s a journey.  A far more spiritual one than I had anticipated.  But an exhilarating, liberating journey that reconnected me with God, my body, and Food, the way I was supposed to be.

     And this is my Manifesto:

     Everyone’s different.  God might lead you down a different path or “method.”  But the method isn’t my point.  God is.  Include Him in the equation.  Consult Him on the method.  And rely on His Power in its implementation.  He wants you to be healthy more than you do.  As Your Creator, He’s kind of…invested.  So just stop.  Pause from the diet, guilt, and striving long enough to see if it’s even something He’s led you to do.  Because He is the point, not losing weight, fitting into a size 4, or looking great.  The moment we lose sight of Him is the moment Self re-enters as the Controller.

     So I’m not dogging dieting, exercise, or healthy eating by any means.  I’m only emphasizing the fact that our spiritual selves are at the root of everything and ignoring that fact is like picking spoiled fruit off of a tree: the root is still present and unchanged so that bad fruit will just keep reappearing.  Let’s start digging roots instead of picking fruits.  And I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised that the pounds are quick to follow.