I thought I was doomed to be fat forever. I thought I was greedy. I thought I was defective, flawed. At school my friends were all tiny. They wore strappy vests and cropped tops. They could wear bikinis and show off their midriffs. I couldn’t, I had to work with clothes that “flattered” (pro tip: a bell bottom works wonders for a chunkier thigh).
One time I went on a crash, and I mean CRASH, diet to shift a bunch of weight in order to fit into a dress for a party two weeks away. It worked because, well, if you only eat a slice of slimy ham and some iceberg lettuce for a fortnight, you tend to shed the pounds. Otherwise I just remained, steadfast, one to two stone heavier than any teenager wants to be.
Dieting was a constant for me, a way of life. I was either on a diet and eating nothing or off the wagon and eating toast with an inch thick layer of butter on top. I was forever joining weightwatchers.
Exercise was a means to an end. A necessary evil to help budge that needle on the scale. I did the minimum I could get away with, which was basically half-hearted runs three times a week (weather and mood permitting).
I feel so sorry for my poor, misguided teenage self. If only I’d known that I was simply trapped in a web of neuropathways that I’d accidentally created through my repeated behaviours, I’d have saved myself a lot of heartache and bad skin.
See, neuropathways aren’t set in stone, far from it. They “wire up” thanks to thoughts we repeatedly entertain. But the second we stop entertaining habitual thoughts, for example, “I must eat another slice of bread”, the neuropathway that delivered it weakens. So the next time we have that same thought it doesn’t feel so compelling. We ignore habitual thought a few times and it eventually goes away, taking the unhelpful behaviour with it.
How do we stop entertaining habitual thought like “ooh I fancy another slice of bread”?
We recognise it is only thought, coming from inside us. With the recognition it’s thought comes the acknowledgement that it’s therefore also meaningless, in no way dangerous and absolutely has no power to make us listen to it and go for another slice of bread.
Realising it has no power, strips it of its power. With that it goes away.
And yes I know it might feel serious because it feels like a longing or a pining, but that’s the crazy illusion. Bottom line, if you accept that nagging need to eat is nothing more than transient thought, you will be free from food, forever.