Secrets of a Former Fat Girl (21 page)

The Obstacle: How to Get the Pushers Comfortable with the Idea of the New, Former Fat Girl You

Sure, you care about the people around you, maybe too much. You can't expect yourself to simply flip a switch and turn off your compassion for them or your compulsion to please them. You need to find ways to reassure the people you love that you are not going to leave them behind—ways that don't involve your abandoning yourself and your Former Fat Girl plan altogether. Here's some advice that can help.

Former Fat Girl Fixes

No preaching.

Say your sister, your best girlfriend, your brother, or your husband could stand to learn a few lessons about portion control or exercise, or both. Fight the urge to climb aboard the Former Fat Girl soapbox. Even if you're careful to use a teaching tone, don't say a word unless you're asked. Preaching, teaching—whatever you want to call it—creates resentment among the Pushers, and resentment will only make them push harder. The no preaching fix even applies to those loved ones who are not Pushers but who are silently struggling with their own Fat Girl feelings. Remember how you reacted when someone foisted advice or information on you in the attempt to be helpful. Everyone has to come to it in his or her own time, in his or her own way, for his or her own reasons. A person may not be ready now and may never be, but the hope is that you do what you do quietly and inspire others and teach others without trying. What was it that Gandhi said? “Be the change you want to see.”

Issue an invitation.

Consider this your best alternative to preaching. You need to let the people who love you know that you're not leaving them in your dust. So
don't
. Ask them to go with you. Maybe your husband hasn't exercised since high school football practice twenty years ago, or the most strenuous thing your Mom has ever done was cruise the sale racks at Bloomingdale's. Who cares? Go ahead and ask them to walk with you or run with you even if you think they'll turn you down. You'll get points just for asking. The same goes for food: If they comment on your veggie burger or grilled chicken breast, offer to fix one for them. They might laugh or scoff, but so what? You've made your point. You've let them know you still love them, that you're not running (or walking) away. And, hey, you never know: They might just take you up on it, and it might just be fun.

Be careful who you brag to.

It's completely possible to be a braggart and not know it even if you think you're the person least likely to blow your own horn. I found that out the hard way. I had reached a new high in my Former Fat Girl quest: I finally had a solid plan to get where I wanted to be careerwise; my social life was hot; I had a guy who might actually be interested in me as something other than a buddy; and I had just bought a pair of size 5 jeans. I was really and sincerely in awe of how things had turned around, and, yes, I was proud of myself.

I was sharing all this one day with my friend Becky, my closest girlfriend at the time. She and I talked about pretty much everything, although now that I think about it, most of it was complaining and kvetching. All of a sudden, while I was describing my state of pure bliss, Becky let me have it. She said that whatever guy I was talking about was
not
that into me, that “anyone could be a writer,” and how all I did was “rub her face” in my happiness. I was stunned, utterly blindsided. Maybe I could see how annoying it might be to hear me blather on about how great my life was, but that wasn't really my style. And there was such venom in Becky's words. I was devastated at the idea that I couldn't celebrate my success and that she couldn't be happy for me.

Becky is a particular person and that was a particular situation, but that experience taught me a big lesson, one that will help you, too. You will have a lot to be proud of along your journey to Former Fat Girlhood. In your excitement, though, don't forget that some people might hear “I can't believe it! I lost 15 pounds!” as “You're a fat slob, and I'm not.” That will only put them on the attack. Put yourself in their shoes (forgive the cliché). How would you feel if you were the one stuck in neutral while your friend, sister, or husband was zooming ahead in high gear? Hell, you might even know firsthand how it feels to be left behind. Never forget what it's like. Make it a point to stay mindful of where your friends and family members are in their own journeys so that you don't come off as insensitive. Remember, you were there once.

The Obstacle: Dating, Marriage, and Mommyhood: How to Deal with This Tricky Trio

Ah, if only we lived in solitary confinement; life would be so simple. No big, hulky men with big, hulky appetites; no kid-friendly snacks calling to you from the pantry; no crazy schedules besides your own to keep you from getting to the gym. What a life—a boring life—that would be. The men and kids in your life don't exactly have to be Pushers to make your journey to Former Fat Girlhood more complicated. Just the logistics of being in a household or committed relationship or seeking a committed relationship are challenges in themselves for wannabe Former Fat Girls. These tips will help you cope.

Former Fat Girl Fixes

Eat when you're with him.

It's true: Guys do like women who eat (just not too much). The fact that you enjoy food, within limits, says to him that you're open, sensuous, and adventurous. But that's not why you should eat with him. This is the time to do what you need to do for you, remember? Eat with him because food is a way of connecting, of celebrating. It's not the only way, but it's an important way. The dinner table is a place to get to know one another, to gather together as a couple or a family after a long day apart. So how do you stick to your plan when mealtimes can't be all about what you want (or need) to eat? If you're single and dating, use my “free day” fix. It saved me when I was going out with my now-husband Rick. I stuck to my healthy low-fat plan all week so I could let loose a little when we went out on Saturday night. I was also quick to suggest a restaurant. Rick has a fetish for barbecued ribs and cafeteria-style cooking, where the vegetables (if there are any) are either cooked in bacon grease, drenched in dressing, or swimming in butter. And wherever we went, I made it a point to order smart, ask a few strategic questions (Is there butter in the sauce? bacon on the salad?), and leave a few bites on my plate.

Now that we're married, I keep my diet under control by eating light during the day and saving my more substantial meal for dinner when our little family is all together. My breakfast might be oatmeal or cereal (occasionally a bagel as a treat); lunch is half a turkey or tuna sandwich, soup, or salad, maybe some baked chips, and fruit. Our dinners are healthy but more hearty: Pasta with shrimp, tomatoes, capers, and feta; pad Thai with lots of added veggies; grilled or barbecued chicken breasts (sans skin), potatoes (usually sweet for me), and salad; chicken tacos with fat-free refried beans, a sprinkling of low-fat cheese, and a dab of light sour cream and guacamole. Oh, and maybe a few tortilla chips on the side if I can dig out any folded ones from the bag. This ensures that Rick gets not just a satisfying meal but a healthy one, too, since he often indulges his meat tooth at lunchtime.

Suggest a moving date.

Who says you have to stick to the typical dinner and a movie? Dance. Hike. Rake leaves. Go bowling. Stroll through the botanical gardens—or the mall if he's the metrosexual type. Moving together can help you both relax and open up, so much so that some psychotherapists are hitting the walking trails with their clients instead of having them spend their sessions on the couch. You'll discover things about him that are hard to pick up in a dinner table conversation: how well you work together as a team, how he handles competition, what kind of work ethic he has, his inhibitions, and more. For married couples a moving date can keep the lines of communication open, something that's not always easy to do in the hectic day-to-day. See the sidebar on Chapter 6 for more “moving date” suggestions.

Get him grilling.

Just about any guy can grill or at least thinks he can. Stroke his ego, call him the Grill Master, and he'll cook for you. You do the shopping: Buy him lean meats, light marinades, and even fish and veggies for a little challenge. Grilling is one of the healthiest, leanest cooking techniques; as long as you're not doing greasy burgers and hot dogs, you'll end up with a nice light entrée that he's just as happy to eat as you are. All you need to do is complement it with some healthy sides.

Practice patience post-pregnancy.

I didn't realize how much control I had before I had my son, Johnny—control over my time, my schedule, and the contents of my refrigerator. I'd say it was hard to adjust, but, really, the adjusting started when I was pregnant. As an “older” mom (I was thirty-nine when I got pregnant, forty when I delivered), I had to be careful, especially early on. I didn't exercise for the first trimester, afraid of having a miscarriage, and I was really too tired to do much anyway. I started running again at about three and a half months and was able to keep it up until about seven months when I thought I'd spare the trainers at the Y the anxiety of watching me on the treadmill, terrified that I would pop any minute.

I was fully prepared to spend the full nine months wrestling with my appetite and my willpower. Oh, I had my treats: McDonald's fries, the occasional dip cone from Dairy Queen, a Krispy Kreme doughnut hot from the oven. But I didn't go nuts on the junk. What I really wanted were fresh, cool foods such as salads, sushi (don't worry; I stuck with the cooked stuff), and avocado-tomato sandwiches on really grainy whole wheat bread.

Still, I gained forty-two pounds and had all that (and then some) to lose after Johnny was born in May 2001. But I wasn't in any shape to do anything about it for a good month or so. Without going into details, I had a fairly rough delivery. I needed time to heal physically, to get the rest I needed, to figure out just who this little being was and how to keep him happy. I wasn't like my friend Jill who went out bike riding with me two weeks after delivering her son. It took me a little more than a year to get my body back in Former Fat Girl fighting shape.