At first, I didn't want to write this down, for I thought it'd be too much of a focus on the negative. I am thinking, though, that it's good for me to look at past behaviours, so I won't repeat them. And I need to have things open, not hidden. How can I ask for strength in matters if I am unaware of that which needs changing?

When I was a little girl, I ate everything! I remained stick-thin, though, because I was so active. I loved running around, playing games and, well, running wild through the countryside. I never liked vegetables, though, and had impressed upon me the idea of eating everything on my plate. My father had been poor, so he stressed how I had to polish  off my plate. My mother made meals rich in fat and super high in carbohydrates. We ate tons of pasta, red meat, potatoes and fast food. The  special times in my young life were drinking tea and eating cookies with my mum. Even now, I treasure thoughts of those times --- yet it would've been just as special had we walked through the forest together or drank tea and ate low-fat, sugar-free cookies. (wink) From my family, I've gained lots of wonderful traits, experiences and lessons, but they dropped the ball in the food  department. My mother is fat and  eats poorly and doesn't exercise. My father eats hardly anything during the week and binges on the weekend.  His metabolism is amazing, though, so he is very slender and athletic-looking. My brother eats terribly constantly, eschews vegetables and fruits, lives on the world's worst diet (doughnuts, fast food, pizza, deep-fried foods, macaroni and cheese) and is just incredibly athletic --- so he looks like a beanpole. (I fear the condition of his insides, though. I don't think I've ever seen him eat a piece of fruit.)

We moved to a city right before high school. I kept eating the way I always had, but now I didn't have friends to run around with me. I remember reaching 137 pounds and  being horrified. At 14, I was 5'8" and  felt fat at 137. (That is so funny to me now.) I remember that this is when, for the first time in my life,  I started thinking of myself as ugly.  Those seven pounds of fat just  bothered me immensely. I didn't do anything about it, though. I just felt sorry for myself and ate more! My new city was one by the beach, and I felt very out of place in a blond, blue-eyed world. Food became my comfort.

In high school, I lived on fast food. Round Table, Burger King, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Carl's Jr. were my favourite haunts. I had a friend by now: a thin girl who ate as poorly as I did --- but her metabolism  was better. After school  (and sometimes, during school hours), we'd go to a fast food joint and stock up on Coke and french fries,  chatting away the hours. My weight went up, and well-meaning relatives began making cruel comments on this. Of course, it made me feel uglier and sadder during my rough high school years. I just ate more. Sometimes, I'd even binge. I'd  buy economy-size packets of Kit Kats and a six-pack of soda then  snack on it for a few hours as I read in my room. I didn't know my weight (my parents didn't have a scale), but I felt heavy all the time. In retrospect, I know I was only very slightly overweight, maybe 10 pounds, but to me, it seemed much more. I'd try to exercise then give up. I walked with a chubbier friend a few times a week, but we gave it up quickly. (I remember her saying she weighed 157, and  it struck me as such a huge number. Still, I had gotten to 150, 20 pounds heavier than I should  be, 15 more pounds than comfortable.) Aerobics especially were tiresome to me. All that jumping around!

For a brief time, I binged and purged. I did this a few times and felt terrible. This was a low point for  me. I was a very lonely teenager and  completely clueless about myself and forgetting God too often.

After high school, I lived briefly in a different country, where in one month, I dropped 10 pounds. The time spent there was so happy, and  I remained active, walking everywhere  and not focusing on every meal. Without fatty American fast food, I didn't snack and ate normal, healthy meals. My jeans felt loose, my clothes didn't fit snug, and my face looked prettier. I received so many compliments! I felt pretty. And then, of course, I came back to the States.

Back to the old pattern. I gained back all the weight and then some. (This pattern is getting annoying to write down.) On Valentine's Day 1992, I vowed to stop being fat. I had a good 20 pounds to lose, but I was just tired of being chunky and ugly. At 19, I had gone on three dates and just always felt miserable. I felt old. So, I started exercising every day (good!) and eating hardly anything (bad). Instead of learning what to eat that was delicious *and* healthy, I decided I didn't need food. I had a bowl of cereal for breakfast, nothing for lunch (maybe fruit here and there --- I've always loved fruit) and half a portion of dinner (whatever my mother served me for dinner, I'd eat only half). I dropped weight quickly and started wearing size 9/10 clothes. I remember going to buy a pair of jeans. I picked a size 9 from the rack, and my mother said, "No, you're a size 12." And I shook my head, "Not anymore." I put on those jeans, and her mouth dropped. She was really quite happy for me. And I think it surprised her.

Unfortunately, the slimness of my body created a very shallow effect on me. I started wearing very tight clothes, showed off my body and always wore a hot pink bikini at the beach. I was so surprised by my body, and I also loved the looks I received from men. Again, instead of the happy medium, a good balance, I went straight into the opposite direction. From being a  bookish teenager, I became a rowdy, vampy 20-something. To maintain my figure, I skipped meals altogether. On the evening shift at the retail store I worked, I remember thinking, "Oh, I forgot to eat today!" and running over to another store in the mall to buy my dinner: half  a chocolate chip cookie and a Coke. Egad.

At this slim size, I met my husband.

During our courtship, we dined together a lot. He, a food lover, ate whatever he wanted and never gained weight. He was so slender and  beautiful, but could pack it in.  He ate like a horse and a bird --- a  lot and constantly.

One summer, I had to move to a  different city for an internship, where, due to a crazy work schedule, long hours and laziness in cooking, I lost 20 pounds. Once again, did I eat healthy? No. I had an Egg McMuffin and Coke for breakfast, often skipped  lunch and for dinner had a Wendy's chicken salad. That's it.

When I returned, I began gaining  weight again. My body was celebrating having food and clung to every calorie I consumed. By our wedding date, I was at 167 and a size 14.

For the first years of marriage, I had erratic eating patterns. I would  binge and purge, snacking on chips (the salty foods always have enticed me)  and gulping down soda pop by the gallons. I even ate an entire half of Baskin-Robbins ice cream cake while my husband walked our guests to their car.

I turned to my favourite, doomed solution:  I went on a crash diet (no  carbohydrates --- a horrible, terrible diet that all my friends were on) and grew really skinny. I was so thin! And I looked smaller all around. People I always looked at as small suddenly  seemed bigger to me, especially in  pictures. People lavished compliments on me. I had people ask me for my secret. I bought little clothes and just felt tiny. (I didn't feel too good, for that stupid diet deprived me of vegetables, fruits and  essential vitamins and nutrients. Terrible!) I had to devour a lot of meat, cheeses, lettuce and eggs for weeks! I thought I'd go mad from the same disgusting flavour for weeks and weeks. Yet I kept in mind my goal: to be thin and my desperation for a quick fix. The compliments I received were well worth it, I believed. And no one around me every said, "Hey, this is a really bad diet" or "This doesn't sound healthy." At the dinner table, they'd see me request only certain foods and  condoned my weird eating, so I'd look  better. That's just no good.

I lost the weight then gained it back less than a year later. Of course.
 
For two years, I resigned myself to  being fat. "I'm always gonna weigh more than I should." And never watched what I ate. Food became "bad" or "good." I just developed  such a bad way of thinking. I didn't think of eating healthy and liking it, didn't think that I could control my weight. I just figured that, oh well, sometimes I eat too much. And so, I've been steadily gaining weight ... and I need to lose it. Not with any tomfoolery or my mind off. It's not to be a diet. It's also about  learning what my body needs, what can nourish it. And it's about my  being responsible for this incredible instrument God has given me.

I know this now, but I didn't a few weeks ago.

I've been plagued by bad thinking. I've been impatient. I've gone on bets with people to lose weight, only to have everyone abandon the plan and continue eating unhealthily. I've seen myself turn to food instead of God,  seek comfort in munching rather  than praying.

Well, no more.
 
Each day, I will strive to eat well  be active and give thanks to God for my life. Sorrow or Joy won't be the time to turn away and turn to food ---  it will be the chance to grow as a human being.

This is a new chapter of my  life, the chapter in which I learn how beautiful life is, how much good there is be done, how to appreciate every moment.
 
Let's go!

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