I Reject Dieting!

I REJECT DIETING! 

Food and I have had a tumultuous relationship. Most of my young life, I ate what my mother served. As one of seven children, we looked forward to every meal. My Mom made it work. Feeding a family of nine most nights was a feat in itself. We never over ate - there wasn't surplus food after any meal. Leftovers? What were they? We always had enough and it was always delicious, if not simple and utilitarian at times. My mom served basics like spaghetti with marinara or meat sauce and an iceberg salad. Meatloaf and roasted potatoes. Tuna Casserole. Goulash (we called it Beefaroni). Roasts were for Sunday dinners or holidays, and there were memorable holiday meals. We enjoyed simple desserts like Junket custard, Jello (with milk poured over!), Cool and Creamy pudding, or a Friehofer's fruit cookie. I remember loving sliced bananas with milk and sugar. And then there were the occasional treats - we all knew how to add and divide because it there was a box of 24 Popsicles, each kid got three. No more. 

My relationship with food got a bit more complicated when I became aware of my pre-teen body, when I developed fat in areas where it didn't previously exist. When you have six siblings, eyes are always on you and brothers can chime in when, perhaps, they should not. I remember one family drive where we approached a bridge where a sign read "Weight limit, 10 tons" and one brother yelled, "Stop! Jeannie has to get out." Ouch. I have long since forgiven him, because he IS a wonderful grown-up brother, but that moment, and others, planted a seed that fully sprouted into a lack of confidence and self-doubt. I actually was thin then, but knew I was fat. Then, I started taking note of everything I should and should not be eating, and I thought everyone else noticed, as well. Here I am, still stung by those words.

Thinking about food constantly had other side-effects. I became obsessed with creating food that was different than the trusted meals and desserts my mother served. My sister Patsy gave me a little metal recipe box for my 12th birthday (I think it was 12) and I started clipping recipes from all of my mother's "women's" magazines before she even had time to read them! I got in a bit of trouble for that. But my recipe box filled up, and I still have it to this day. My Mom indulged my new interest and supported my baking and cooking. The added benefit was that our family enjoyed home-made desserts. 

That obsession with food was at the same time I started dieting. My first diet was one where I started eating Swiss Miss yogurt. Yogurt was fairly new to the market where I lived and was almost seen as an exotic health food. I am sure it wasn't, but I managed to get through high school ranging between 115 and 120 pounds. Once I started dieting my weight climbed about five pounds a year, steadily, which became a yo-yo cycle of instability and more self-doubt. I'd diet on Monday. I'd diet on the first day of the month. The first day of the year. For Lent. I'd diet for the upcoming summer. For a fall wardrobe. For a class reunion. Before getting pregnant. After a baby. From Halloween through New Years Day - what a miserable time to deny myself! I dieted ALL THE TIME and the weight kept creeping back and then some. My self-confidence was crushed as I placed so much personal value on the scale. It was indeed a vicious cycle, one which I am afraid imprinted my daughters (and for which my older, wiser self apologizes.)

Finally, now that I am beyond my mid years and am into my later years, after having tried so many diets to become the me I always felt I was supposed to be, I have had a revelation. My personal value is NOT tied to my weight. I am not in search of a vain goal. My goal at age 67 is to have the healthiest next phase as I can. I've tried all these: I am not a Weight Watcher (WW); I am not plant-based (though I love plants); I am not Keto which for me is not sustainable. I am not Vegan, though I tried that too. I have learned that all or nothing in any circumstance does not work for me. The imprinted middle-child in me is much too rebellious. You tell me 'no?' I'm going for it. So, I have come to terms that I am not a dieter. I am an eater, and I choose to eat foods that are good for me. If I have an occasional treat, I accept that and move on. I am a baker, for goodness sake! So, my practice is: low carb as possible, lots of color, tons of water, iced coffee whenever I want it, healthy protein, lower fat options, and a spoonful of ice-cream if my body tells me it's necessary. For me, dieting is about denial and failure. Eating is about putting good things in my body that not only nourish but bring joy, especially when consumed with friends and family.

At this time of year, when some of us may dread navigating upcoming holiday meals and what we will 'allow' ourselves to eat - let go, just a little bit. Have a bit of this, some of that, and allow yourself the true pleasure of partaking of food traditions that mean a lot to you. It's no fun to leave a holiday feast regretting that you didn't enjoy it as much as you might have.  Feed your body and your soul! And take a walk for you, not for steps or your smart watch or a spreadsheet. Walk to see the night sky, breathe in the fresh air, clear your head. Everything doesn't have to be measured data to tell you you did a good job. 

I will continue to bake, to show it off, to eat delicious meals, to pay close attention to my health 'numbers' and to act accordingly. Giving myself permission to reject dieting is a healthy way for me to take control of my healthy and happy future. 

PLEASE comment below if any of this resonates with you.

XO,

Jeannie

The Adirondack Baker 

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