Food Is No Longer a Four-Letter Word

Food for me has been a four-letter word for as long as I can remember. By that I mean food has always had negative connotations.

It’s really no surprise. My mother loved my sister and me with all of her heart, and she was the most wonderful mother anyone could have, but she passed along her unhealthy relationship with food to the two of us. Looking back, my sister and I were healthy and strong as children. But we were heavier than a lot of other kids, and so my mother brought us along to her Weight Watchers meetings and eventually signed us up for the program. I can’t remember exactly, but I think I was about 9 or 10 years old.

I recall like it was yesterday going to Weight Watchers meetings at the Elks Club in Fitchburg, Mass. The leader talked about “legal” and “illegal” foods, and admonished the members to make sure that they were eating their weekly servings of liver.

My sister and I were the only young people in attendance. I was mortified to be there, and terrified that someone would find out I was “on” Weight Watchers. But, my friends knew by the weird lunches I brought. Things like plain yogurt in a thermos, doctored up with Sweet ‘n’ Low and strawberry extract. Low-fat cheese sandwiches made with thin-cut bread.

Me at 23.

I know my mother did everything out of love, but I was learning how to associate my self worth with the number on the scale. Probably not surprisingly, I just gained more and more weight.

My heaviest recorded weight was 100 pounds more than I currently weigh (at 5 feet, 4 inches tall), but I know I was more than that at various times. I went back on Weight Watchers as an adult--many, many times. I tried SlimFast. I tried a diet that consisted of white rice, raisins, and applesauce. In the '90s I was all in on the low/no-fat craze. I lost weight and gained it back again--and again and again and again. My feelings about “good” food and “bad” food were reinforced. So was the idea that I should eat according to how many “points” or “servings” I had left, and not how my body felt or what it needed.

I binged. I ate in secret. I treated food like a drug.

When I had my own daughters, I tried very hard not to talk about diets. I tried

Me at 52.

to serve healthy foods (or, what I thought at the time was healthy) and to encourage their love of sports and exercise. I tried to break the cycle.

Little by little--over the course of many years--I got healthier myself. I discovered running, which not only helped me lose weight, but also taught me to think about food as fuel. I discovered yoga, which helped me think about my body as strong and capable--and as a beautiful expression of my spirit and soul.

I still struggle with food at times, especially as my body has changed post-menopause. It's hard to unlearn decades of twisted thinking, after all. But I don't fear it. There may be four letters in the word "food," but, for me, food is no longer a four-letter word.