Crippled athletes lying broken in armchairs around the world are proof that exercise isn't going to fix me -- not permanently. My friends Kirstie Alley and Sarah of York are living proof that Diets-You-Pay-For don't work. I'm planning to outlive both these broads, so I have to find a way to change the way I interact with food.
I've actually had this epiphany before. Four years ago I was a moo-cow, and discovered one day that I couldn't shop my own closet.
I'd been reading about vegetarianism, which lead to reading about veganism, which lead to reading about raw food. The names Frédéric Patenaude and Victoria Boutenko kept popping up in my research.
I read Boutenko's book Raw Family, and Patenaude's Raw Secrets, and was hooked. I cleaned out my fridge, found a food dehydrator with a thermostat on Craigslist, and loaded up on fruits and veggies. It was on.
|All the Married Ladies,|
All the Married Ladies
In September of that year, while I was hovering in the 190s, I even taught a class at a women's retreat on making smoothies.
But the thinner I got, the more the negatives started coming:
"If you lose too much weight, you'll get sick."
"You should try this...Oh, you can't. You're on that diet."
"What are you going to do about Thanksgiving?" (I hadn't thought about that.) "And Christmas?" (Yikes. Holidays? Everyone will be disappointed in me if I don't eat what they eat!)
In short, I got weak. Not physically weak. Physically, I was feeling better than I ever had.
Nope, I was mental water balloon. Poke me, prod me, stick a pin in me...or offer me Halloween candy.
Yeah. Halloweeen. Oh, just a few piece of corn candy won't hurt. "It's corn. It's practically vegan!" I told myself.
A little bad news here, a little non-support there, a few candies now and then...a little this, a little that, a little bit of "I'm not even sure I have a goal here," and before you could say Merry Christmas, I'd been lead carefully down the road to hell.
I was still incorporating raw food into my daily life, but before the New Year rolled around, I was off the wagon. Still a believer, but no longer a practitioner.