Monster Munch

The Monster Muncher with her Monster Munch

There were only 3 of us who attended the information session at the Eating Disorders Programme.  I have to admit to feeling a bit uncomfortable participating in such a meeting as I certainly don't look like I've been restricting calories or purging...and the programme caters to people living with and/or affected by eating disorders, including anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, and/or eating disorder not otherwise specified.  The latter is the category in which I think I fall.

I have been a binge eater, with no purging, for the last...I don't know how long.  A shameful practice that I started training for when I returned from university one spring.  My friends and I would stay up late, rent movies and each of us would grab a large bag of chips to go with.  I don't know when 1 bag became a couple, for variety's sake, but I gradually stretched my stomach to fit the entire contents of both.  With this sort of training, it wasn't long before I could fit in some mac n' cheese or ramen noodles or fast food or Chinese.  And if I did indeed eat breakfast the next day, it would be leftover BBQ crisps or some sort of processed noodles or the remnants of the disgraceful feast of the previous afternoon, evening, or late night.  The heartburn I suffered was ridiculous.

Hot dog...it's what's for breakfast

This became my normal.  It would ebb and flow depending on my emotions.  I did most of my binging in private, away from scrutiny, gorging on fast food and drink, convenience store junk, and things I could order off of menus stuffed into my mailbox.  After a championship round of gluttony, I would hide the evidence lest someone close to me find out what I had been eating.  I would pack up all the proof of my pig-out and toss it in the building's communal bins or even in the trash outside on the street.  I was so embarrassed by my addiction.

Prajnaparadha - crimes against wisdom - binge eating is lawlessness against one's better judgment.  Why would I do this to myself?  The more I ate, the worse I felt, the bigger I got, and the more contempt I had for "me."

When I sprained my ankle in November of 2012, upon my return from New Orleans I saw an orthopaedic surgeon who gave me a huge reality check.  It didn't help that I had once seen him play the Lord High Executioner in Gilbert & Sullivan's Mikado, what he had to say dropped my penny so to speak.  The reason the injury was so massive was, in short, due to my weight.  Joints are not meant to hold up such poundage.  And he told me so.  Then I cried.  He told me that I wouldn't be able to stand long days on my foot, so there went work.  Medical leave, injury, and insult...well, not insult, but I think I finally realised I was killing myself with food.  Drinkers drink, junkies do drugs, and I ate. 

The counsellor explained the programme, defined eating disorders, and voiced the philosophies of the clinic.  This facility and all that work there is such an amazing resource in our community...and even though I found out about it through my family doctor...it is available through self-referral.

I am currently in my 10th week of the Times Colonist Health Challenge.  2 weeks in, when

The beige meal - steak, frites, gravy, bread, and butter

Sandra McCollough - the reporter that is covering the story, asked me what I would change if I could do something differently in the past,  I said I wouldn't change a thing.  Actually, I think I said that I lived my life without regret because every single thing I do and have done is a learning experience...and right or wrong, good or bad, the culmination of all my experiences has made me the person that I am today.  When I think about that statement and think back to how my food addiction started, the emotional and stress binge eating took over, and how I cultivated it for all those years...I really wish I had done something like this sooner.  But I didn't.  How many of us can be totally honest with ourselves, our doctors, our peers, our friends and family?  Experts, relatives, and confidants can tell us over and over until they are blue in the face what is best for us...but it isn't until we ourselves accept the reality of our own health that we are moved to change. 

Reaching out for a helping hand isn't a sign of weakness, it's a sign of self-acceptance and a catalyst for positive personal development.     

Was fitness testing supposed to be all Star Warsy...or was that just me?

Feeling pretty chuffed to be getting fitness tested at PISE...in fact, I was feeling kinda like "ya, that's right...I have yoga pants on...I'm wearing sneakers...I bought a sports bra for the occasion...check me out, I'm all Simon Whitfieldy."  And then I realised that I hadn't been a participant in the Olympics...I had merely watched them on television...but to my credit, Simon Whitfield and I are practically best friends...I once said hello to him at the airport!

After fasting 12 hours the first thing that exercise physiologists Holly and Paula did was ask me to lie down for 30 minutes.  Awesomepants!  That I can do...I'm very good at resting.  Strapped a heart rate monitor around my chest and got comfy on the mat.  After 10 minutes, I was asked to put a snorkel in my mouth (okay, it wasn't a snorkel, it was a mouthpiece attached to a tube attached to a huge machine that analysed my breathing), had a clothes peg put on my nose (again, probably something more scientificy), and told to "relax" and breath normally.  Easier said than done, after just a few minutes I had the worst case of dry mouth EVER.  I persevered, and eventually will find out my resting metabolic rate...or in layman's terms:  how many calories my body expends by doing absolutely nothing.  From this, we'll be able to calculate the number of calories I need to simply exist...and how many I should consume for weight loss.  Part one complete...easy peasy lemon squeezey.

My nemesis.

Part two begins...difficult difficult lemon difficult.  It's one thing to accept your body - I get it, I'm fat...but it is another thing entirely to have someone draw Xs on your body where they're going to grab the flab with a calliper and measure it, before going back in and measuring various circumferences with a tape measure.  Good thing I don't feel sorry for myself (okay, maybe I did, but just a smidge), or I would have gotten all up inside my head about it.  I had measurements taken on skin that hadn't seen the light of day since Spring Break 1992.  I suppose it's a good thing to know your body composition....but no one wants to find out that the majority of their configuration is fat...unless you are bacon...mmmm bacon.

Padawan me suited up for the bacta tank.

And now the Star Warsy part...after being pinched and prodded, I was introduced to my nemesis:  the treadmill.  *Insert diabolical laughter here*  We meet again.  This time, application of the scuba gear involved a halo (there's a first time for everything) to hold the mouthpiece in place.  And I was told to walk forward.  I can do that.  

As I walked, the treadmill would be increased to different levels of intensity - 5 levels in total.  I am of course terrified of this, but luckily the intervals are only 3 minutes long.  Having said that, I had no idea how long just 3 minutes actually was...until I had to exercise for 3 WHOLE minutes.  Ha!  You start out easy and then it gets harder...they didn't make me run or anything impossible like that, it was a mosey to a stroll to a romp to jaunt to a "let me just walk super fast up this hill to get away from that hungry looking wampa."  It felt a little Luke Skywalkery, you know, being hooked up to tubes like when he was in the bacta tank in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK...without the Jedi part...or the water...or being on Hoth.  So really, nothing like Star Wars actually...except for the tubes.  Oh, who cares...when do I get my tauntaun?

Aerobic Testing complete.

And now for something completely different...

Why yes, this is a children's train

So...I'm pretty much used to taking shortcuts, elevators, escalators, people movers, small children's trains, taxis, golf carts, trollies, metros and cars to get to where I want to go.  In fact, as a passenger of those vehicles I even tend to take on the direction of their parking process.  It goes something like this:  "For efficiency sake, park right next to the door,"  or, "You know, we'll be in and out of there faster if we don't park at the very end of the parking lot."  Because...this is all about being as effective as possible and maximizing time management, right?  Wrong.  I've heard tell of a specific word for this sort of condition...one that most aptly sums up my behaviour in cases such as this...what was that word again?  Oh ya.  LAZY!

That changes today...because today I have my fitness testing at the Canadian Sport Institute Victoria's lab.  I have been fasting for over 12 hours so they can accurately gauge my resting metabolic rate...and believe you me, I'm starving and I'm thirsty and my evil (darling) husband Stéphane is making himself a cappuccino.  Not to sound like a mad scientist of anything...but...GET ME TO THE LAB!