Monday, February 21, 2011
Beck is astonishing me with her ability to anticipate, over and over again, what the next stage of my mental response to her program will be. Beck is prepared with a counteractive cognitive strategy, almost before I know I need it.
What have I got to feel resentment about? How is my life unfair? Because I can't eat whatever I want whenever I want? Really?? That's it???
But of course I do find myself thinking that way -- actually seething (shamefully) with resentment about "food unfairness". How ridiculous that sounds. But Beck "knew" that I would.
"I can't eat like other people." Actually, I live with two naturally thin people . . . and although they eat more than I do (not surprisingly, being males and much taller and far more carnivorous! ) I notice that I am learning to eat more like they do: no panic, taking time to prepare what they want, not stuffing their faces with what ev the minute they walk in the door.
"I have such a lousy metabolism." Maybe. Or maybe I was just scarfing back too many random "tablespoonfuls" of peanut butter. Too many "ounces" of full fat cheddar cheese. While standing up so they didn't count -- or didn't count fully. Anyhow, if the worst bodily inconvenience I can complain about is a too-efficient metabolism: time to get over myself.
"I can't be spontaneous in my eating." No, I can't. Because what I've been pleased to think about as "spontaneity" has actually been out-of-control self-indulgence. I can be spontaneous about other stuff, however. Spontaneous enjoyment of the red veined amaryllis slowly blooming on my kitchen window sill. The downy woodpecker on my bird feeder. A gorgeous winter sunset through the pines in the park behind my house. Sunlight sparkling on wind-sculpted snow drifts. Yeah. There is room for spontaneity that involves more meaningful joy than . . . stuffing my face. Not to forget: spontaneous exercise (About which, I've noticed, I'm not quite so . . . . assertive in demanding my "rights"!!)
Fact is, if my life is "unfair" it's been by any rational measure grossly unfair in my favour. It's unfair that I was born in this country with its amazing freedoms and civility and beauty; to reasonably well-educated and financially comfortable parents; that I had many opportunities to enjoy music, art, sports, reading and formal education that even people from my own "privileged" background by and large did not; that health care has been there whenever I or any member of my family has needed it, without cost and without delay; that my children have grown up so well; that my home is spacious and pleasant; that (this, above all) my husband is so dear and so kind. Did I do anything in particular to deserve all this "unfairness" which has been bestowed upon me? No. Not. I can only endeavour to deserve it, somehow. After the fact. And stop complaining because I cannot in fact eat whatever I want whenever I want.
Actually, of course, I can. But I cannot eat whatever I want whenever I want and be slim. Healthy. Proud of myself.
And it would be somehow more "fair" if I could?
Get a grip, gal.
So: I will pull out my list of reasons to lose weight. I will remember to eat everything sitting down, and slowly, and truly enjoying it. I will refuse to categorize hunger as an emergency. I will use distraction techniques when beset with cravings. I will continue to preplan my food (have my lunch for tomorrow already prepared and tracked: a stir fry for a change); and I will continue to preplan my fitness (although skiing planned for today won't be possible, not enough snow: will have to substitute a trip to the gym instead).
Beck has deftly exposed and skewered that sulky pouty persistent sense of "entitlement" that is so deeply unattractive. In me. Which I need to resist. Because I don't like it. About food, or about anything else, actually. And I'm not going back there.
It would be unfair to myself to permit it.