First, the details: My mother has a friend who is a "health coach." Do I still hate this term? Yes. Do I feel like it is cliché? Yes. Was I resistant to hearing what she had to say? Absolutely. For a long time, I feel like my mom has been trying to "fix" me. As a kid, I was not into clothes (loved dress-up pretend stuff, though). And as I gained weight later in elementary school, these two problems became a crusade for my mom. So I was highly resistant, as usual, preferring to be left alone. But I agreed to go see the coach.
So I met with the friend, and my mom came along with, desirous to get on the program (again) herself. I was concerned that this was going to be more of a sales meeting than really about bettering my health, since I knew that it had to do with a meal-plan that one orders. But again, I would at least listen. And I found a few things compelling:
1. I would eventually be able to come off of the plan, after having reached my goal weight and gone through a maintenance phase.
2. It's a medically endorsed plan that is used for many people, not just "normal" overweight people (though I think I'm in the minority for being obese with very healthy vitals as of now).
3. My mom's friend is a Christian and she and her family use the meals themselves as a part of their regular diet.
4. The goals that I set are not limited to weight, but also include getting better and quality sleep and incorporating more exercise and activity into life.
5. There are a textbook and a workbook that accompany the program to add support to the program and help the participant understand the whole picture of the program.
As I was listening to this very nice lady, who was more sincere than sales-person-y, I knew that if I decided to commit myself, my body and my checkbook, to the program, that I was going to stick with it. I was not going to let this be another "I'll try it..." I wanted a "yes" or a "no" from myself because I knew and still know that all too often I make sure that the decisions I make can be easily reversed so that I can get out if things get tough. By committing, I acknowledged that if I decided to stop the program prematurely, I'd be a quitter. And I HATE that feeling and thought. It would mean that there would be a confirmed failure and I would have to acknowledge that I wanted out because it got tough. By not letting myself have an out, I knew that I could be very much compelled by my hatred of failure. My mom even suggested that I could "try it for a month..." but I said that I was either all in or not at all. I told the coach that I was going to pray about it. She said that was a good idea.
The powerful motivator: My mom has talked about losing her weight since I can remember - I think age 6 or 7 was when I started making note of it. Almost 20 years later, she's still singing the same tune. And man, am I tired of hearing it! It's like hearing someone tell you their childhood dream over and over again, and doing nothing to pursue it. Pie in the sky hopes only because there aren't any plans to make it happen. For the past six months or so, I've been praying into a thought that I've had concerning my weight. I knew that I did not want to be someone who talked and talked and talked and talked and talked for years and years and years and you get the idea about losing weight, but never making ANY progress. So, my one thought, my one decision, was that either, I was going to make the decision to change, and hold to it, or I was going to be determined to live satisfied as I was with myself at the present stage. I hadn't made a decision either way, considering the options, and seriously doing so, because, yeah, it's hard to lose weight, and yeah, the path to least resistance was doing nothing. I didn't really have a particular motivation to change, considering that I enjoy food more than none.
The change: I went into the dermatologist because my hair is thinning, and she said that we should have some blood tests done because she believed there to be a possibility of high testosterone causing it. A major lab error gave rise to two more appointments and two more rounds of blood work at two different doctor's offices. In researching possible causes of high testosterone, most illnesses included obesity as a cause or a symptom. I remember praying on my way to the next office that I knew that I needed to change, regardless of the results, if even the possibility that something that I could control was causing me to be seriously ill. The results came back all normal, even excellent, but I knew the scare had sered my conscience enough to tell me that I needed to do something. And so I committed to the Lord, made a vow, in the biblical sense (mind you, I had just finished the book of Numbers where the rules for vows are given), that I would do something, regardless of the outcome of the blood work. Though everything was normal, I had already known that that didn't matter - I said what I was going to do, and I was going to do it.
The current process: Here's where it gets fleshly beyond fleshly. The first day was great. But I was back to the classroom on Monday, and after my part-time work was finished, I had to remember that I wouldn't make a quick stop at the Chick-fil-A close to the school. I was hungry because that was my usual routine, but I was on this plan and remembered that I had one of the meal bars with me. And that was the beginning of the hard part. During the past two weeks I have had excellent days and I have had days where I've missed potatoes. I told my mom that I don't enjoy food anymore (insert image of a depressed face here), and for a couple of days, I was down, feeling restricted and bummed that I couldn't eat out or enjoy the things I normally do. But during these days, I was alarmed at how dependent I felt on food to give me enjoyment in life. Driving home from Target this evening, I had to admit the painful truth to myself that had been grating on my mind: really, above almost if not every thing, food was the only thing in life that I was drawing true satisfaction from. I would find some satisfaction here or there, mentally, and spiritually, but nothing was so powerful as the physical reaction to physical satisfaction. I cannot avoid calling this power idolatry, for the simple fact that if I find more satisfaction in what God has provided than wholly in Himself and I'm not doing even the basic things to His glory, I am in fact, worshiping something else that provides me a specific emotional response. Though I hadn't really admitted my dependence on food for satisfaction in more than my hunger or simple enjoyment, my prayer had been two weeks ago and continued this week to be that I would find my satisfaction as real in Christ as the food I physically consumed gave my body. How this even works, I've only read about in the Bible, but I know it must be a work of the Holy Spirit. I'm rather excited at the prospect of getting to know God in this way, because I do feel like it is killing a subtle but all-to-real and powerful idol in my life. I approach these next few months with great hope of what I will learn, and I hope that God uses it to His glory. And His glory is one thing that I do want to taste while leaving behind all the others!
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