Dieting Is Wrong

All of my pants have shrunk. It must be this new detergent I’m using. Or maybe the dryer is extra hot these days.

Also, my scale is broken. It’s like, five years old, so you know–this day was bound to come. The kids use it as a stool sometimes when they need to be 1/2 an inch taller.

We could all use an extra 1/2 inch.

That’s what she said.

On a completely unrelated note, my appetite has increased. Hmm. No.

I’m not pregnant. I swear it.

But my pants have shrunk, the scale is broken, and I am eating much, much more these days. The combination of these events has led me to say things like, “I’m fat,” or “I need to lose weight!” and “I hate my body right now.”

I’m fighting these phrases–but I’m losing. Therefore, I am confessing.

Here’s the sick part: for the past two years I have lived with an illness that robbed me of my appetite. It made me nauseous, feverish, and too achy to want food. While I went through spurts of trying to maintain a healthy, nourishing diet, the fact that food just didn’t taste right got in the way of healthy eating. What did appeal to me was a bunch of carby, starchy stuff. Crackers for breakfast, cookies for lunch, and a sweet potato for dinner.

Pretty terrible, I know. {By the way, I am fully aware of the inflammatory nature of these foods.}

Occasionally, my appetite would rev up and I’d find myself desperately craving a juicy hamburger, with extra cheese. Sometimes the appetite would last for a few days, or even a week, and I would eat like a normal person. But then the nausea would come back and zap all food love right out of me.

I remember always hearing people say, “Oh, but you don’t look sick! You look great!”

Those words would sting.

Look great? 

Um, I feel like crap. But I look great. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I remember saying (more times than you would think):

“I would trade my sick, skinny body in a heartbeat for an extra twenty pounds and good health!” 

What REALLY irked me was when people would say, “Dang! I wish I could get sick!”

Darling, that can be arranged. Shall I spike your soup with feces so that you may have your precious, skinny, disease-riddled body?

What the frickity frack is wrong with people??!!

Well, as you know, I went into remission. Hurray!  No more fevers. No more nausea. No more ice-picks stabbing the tissue between my joints.

Hello, appetite.

I didn’t really notice it at first as it came back right around the holidays. Food is so yummy at Christmas and it would be wrong to NOT partake. So I gained about five pounds (which I could afford) and I assumed they’d fall right off after the holiday hullabaloo was over. Say that ten times fast.

Holiday hullabaloo. Holiday hullabaloo. Holibaloo. Holibaludaboo. Holiblue. I give up. Let’s get back to business, shall we?

I didn’t know I was entering remission and that my body was finally feeling ‘normal’ for the first time in two years. RA is so capricious that I thought maybe the weather was mild, or I had gotten extra vitamin D, or maybe I was simply having a lot of “good days.”

Food like fruit, vegetables, meat, cheese, MILK, rice–all started to sound delicious to me. During the month of January, I probably drank two glasses of vitamin D milk each day–simply because I craved it. It sounded sooo delicious. The entire time I was in my gigantic RA flare I never wanted milk. The very idea of drinking it made me want to puke.

My point here is that my body needed fuel–replenishment–nourishment! And without even really thinking about it, I gave in to myself. I loaded up on calcium and protein. I desired a whole avocado every day for a week straight–and I would eat one. I NEVER ate like that with my illness.

Well, whadya know? I gained more weight. I have gained about ten pounds, to be exact. Those ten pounds have been the source of much whining, complaining, and pouting. And pant throwing. Or is it “pants throwing”? Thats gonna really bug me.

But then this happened:

My little Chaucer has been sick all week. So sick that he hasn’t wanted to play outside, eat, or do anything except lay around in my arms. The antibiotic he is on is very harsh on his stomach, so on top of bronchitis/pneumonia he has had diarrhea and a perpetual tummy-ache. Needless to say, he’s lost a few pounds.

Yesterday was the first day he acted like a normal toddler. And you know what? He was hungry. I’m not talking like normal-toddler hungry. I’m talking bear-that-hibernated-all-winter-and-just-woke-up-hungry. Because he’s allergic to dairy I made him his own cheese-free enchiladas last night. I just filled up a pie pan with his servings, and figured it would allow for some leftovers for the next day.

This is the part where he acted like a recently-woken bear.

The kid devoured the entire pan. He ate with enthusiasm, and relished each bite. When his plate was clean he’d immediately demand for more “yadas.” I was thrilled to see him eat so much. It pained me all week to watch him pick at a few crackers and then writhe in misery with his tummy-ache.

To see him enjoy food like the “old” Chaucer did my heart good. Of course he should eat that whole pan–well, I guess he could of eased into it a little more gently, but his body craved carbs, protein, fat–nourishment. And by George, he got it.

It occurred to me that those cravings of mine for milk, avocado, and grains are a source of joy for God. He gave me this wonderful gift–remission. He’s done his part, and now I need to take care of my end with both responsibly and gratitude. Why would I wish to starve a body that has been sick for two years? Shouldn’t this season of celebration be marked by feeding my body, getting stronger, and relishing the process?

Essentially, my stinky attitude about the extra ten pounds is just as disgusting as that phrase I used to hear. “Dang. I wish I could get sick.”

WHAT??!! I came this far, with this much pain, fear, and medical bills to think like that? Where’s the enlightenment? Where’s the change?

My remission was a gift from God. People ask me what I did to go into remission–nothing. I had a lot of people praying and the Lord healed me. I take it as a beautiful, precious gift. I don’t feel worthy of it, as I know there are so many people out there living in pain. I have met incredible people through my RA journey–people who find a post that resonates with their experience and reach out to me. These people are my RA family, and I pray for them whenever I thank God for my health.

What a sick, treacherous act for me to squander such a gift. First of all, I’m not fat; not even overweight. I just happen to live in a culture that values emaciated and sickly over filled-out and healthy.

Second, there are thousands of patients who would trade places with me in an instant to have a pain-free body. Ten pounds is nothing, so shut the heck up, Hillary!!

I’m eating my words. They happen to be calorie-free, Swallowed them whole–and I’m done with this nonsense.

From now on, my jeans have shrunk, the scale is broken, and all I have gained is good health. And a wonderful, amazing gift.