Even though my husband is my best friend, there are times when I judge every little thing he does. We went through one of those periods just recently. It all had to do with food.
Let me explain. I recently joined Overeaters Anonymous. I’ve struggled with body image since I was a young girl. I remember asking my mom when I was ten would I ever be thin and her saying, “It’s just baby fat; you’ll grow out of it.” And when I was twelve, I did. But I still worried I was overweight. I never became anorexic or bulimic, but I restricted my food, and then would binge on toast and honey or ice cream and start the worry cycle all over again.
I was never convinced I had a problem with food
When I went to college I gained weight. Pizza. Beer. And when I got engaged I was determined to lose 17 pounds for the wedding, which I did. And kept it off for seven years until I got pregnant at which point I gained more weight than I should have. Then, after having kids, I yo-yoed 20-40 pounds overweight up and down for years.
I’d tried OA a couple of times before, never convinced I had a problem with food, but knowing I had a problem with body image. Then this last time I went because I was truly sick of my weight and eating habits. The folds of fat made it difficult to cross my legs.
So, I got a sponsor and started following a food plan of balanced meals, no snacking. And started regarding my husband’s food choices with disdain. And then that disdain extended to other things–facial expressions he’s made for years that had never bothered me before, and his orderly way of keeping the kitchen counter tidied and straightened just so, judging his every little move silently in my head. And it was coming out in my sour attitude towards him. Plenty of times I thought to apologize but said nothing.
Plenty of times I thought to apologize but said nothing.
I hated seeing my husband eat all the things I couldn’t
It wasn’t until recently when we were eating dinner on the patio when he threw down his napkin and said, “What is it? Every little thing I do you criticize.” And then I told him ever since joining OA I had been judging him and I was sorry. I confessed that I was angry, not with him, but with the food plan I was following. That I hated seeing all the things he could eat, but I couldn’t. It was my choice to do so. I understood that. I had to keep my eyes on what I was doing because I wanted to.
I wish I could remember what it was I had done or said that was the last straw for him. But it doesn’t matter, because I told him what it was like to admit I was a food addict. That every time we drove down Merrimon Avenue I craned my neck to see how many cars were parked at Whitman’s custard ice cream parlor. That I often stood in front of the open frig searching for that treat that would vanquish boredom or sleepiness in the middle of the day even when I wasn’t hungry.
You do you, I’ll do me.
Admitting all that, getting it all out on the table helped me soften my attitude towards him. He said he understood why I’d be angry and thanked me for telling him what was going on. We went on a long trail hike through the mountains a couple of days later. He brought his sausage and cheese snacks and crackers for lunch and I brought my roasted brussel sprouts, sweet potatoes, and garbanzo beans and was happy. I said as we crossed the foot bridge over a rushing stream, “I need a wet, sloppy kiss,” and he obliged.
The concept, live and let live, means I pay attention to the choices I make, and let others enjoy (or not) theirs. I’m doing this new lifestyle, deciding to eat a different way for the rest of my life, not just to lose weight, but to be healthy and not feel guilty or obsessed by thoughts about food. Nor do I have to be obsessed by how other people choose to live. Let people be who they are. You do you, I’ll do me. We’ll get along much better that way.
To learn about my memoir A Minor, Unaccompanied, click here: https://pollyhansen.com/nasty-girl/