How eating junk food helped me lose 10 pounds
A post about perfectionism, not about weight loss.
I used to have a binge eating problem.
It started in 2011, in my first year of university, after I saw a picture of myself looking much thicker than I was used to being—the study-stress snacks and the drunken post-bar trips to Smoke’s Poutinerie got me good. After realizing that I was not in the same shape that I was in high school, I decided that I had to not only get my old body back, but that I had to be even better than I was before.
I told myself that I was going to be a sexy-ass, super fit chick who had, in the least, a faint definition of a six-pack on her stomach.
I was already used to being pretty active, so I knew that in order to achieve that goal, I had to focus on my eating.
So, I sought out to eat perfectly—not just healthily, perfectly.
Oatmeal or one piece of toast for breakfast, a granola bar for a snack, salad for lunch, apple or banana for another snack, chicken breast or piece of salmon with vegetables and a small amount of rice for dinner. No substitutions. No additions. (This isn’t a terrible quantity of food, but like, I love food. All different kinds of food. That restriction alone can drive a woman nuts, and like, was I planning to eat just this forever? Ughs, that’s not possible.)
Crying after I ate someone else’s leftovers at the bar.
With this unrealistic eating plan, getting invited to go out to eat, holiday parties with family, and going on vacation posed significant problems because it’s impossible to stick to a strict plan like that in those scenarios. So, for going out I would starve all day, go to the restaurant, then continue to eat everything I could find when I got home since I considered the day to be ruined. (Continued in the other pic caption.)
During the seven-pound cruise.
For holidays, I would accept that there was nothing I could do, and I’d eat literally until I cried from discomfort #Thanksgiving2012. Same for vacations—my 5’2.5’’ ass gained seven pounds while on a cruise in 2013.
In the morning and afternoon, I would stick to this. But then, 8 p.m. would roll around, and I would be hungry and/or bored with my bland and restrictive diet.
After battling in my head about whether or not I could eat something, I’d say, “OK, I can have one bite of tomorrow’s lunch.”
One bite would turn into two, which, in my clouded mind, meant my whole day of eating had gone to shit.
Soon, all of tomorrow’s lunch would be gone. As would the remainder of granola bars in the box as well as whatever other random crap I could find. (A very low point during one of these binges was when I ate my old roommate’s Tums. Yes, Tums, as in the antacids. In my defence, those things are delicious and taste like candy.)
After that, I would eventually find myself ordering a late-night muffin and cookie at William’s Coffee Pub down the street; or at 7-11, eating two taquitos in each flavour; or at Yogurty’s, going for thirds; or just in my kitchen, finishing off a big bag of chips and someone else’s restaurant leftovers in the fridge.
This is what I referred to as “going out with a bang.” And regardless of the setting, you can bet that I was bingeing somewhere while wallowing in self-disgust, telling myself that this was the last time I would binge eat, and that tomorrow, I would finally start actually eating perfectly.
That tomorrow never came, and I proceeded to go out with a bang nearly every day for about six years.
Food was on my mind 24/7, and I felt like I had no control.
So, I desperately looked outside myself for help.
I made a couple appointments with the university counsellor to talk about my bingeing—the long waitlists and the fact that I had to start from scratch with a new person each time kept me from continuing those sessions.
I bought books about how to stop bingeing—I was in school for much of this time, and I didn’t need more reading material, so those didn’t work out.
I downloaded apps to track my food, hoping the tediousness of inputting a snack would keep me from eating—it didn’t.
I assigned my male roommate to hit me, like, literally punch me hard in the arm, when I deviated from my eating plan—I ended up just eating everything and angrily accepting the beatings.
I recognize now that this all may sound ridiculous, but this is truly what I went through basically every single day for years.
Until, in late 2016 I reached a point when I just had enough. Enough of the way I was treating myself physically. Enough of the way I was treating myself psychologically.
I decided I was done with trying to eat perfectly. I was done with the goal of the faint six-pack. I was done with calling myself a piece of shit for wanting to eat food.
I told myself that I was finally allowed to eat whatever I wanted:
A whole bag of chips? Yes.
All of the thin mint girl guide cookies? Yup.
The remaining half of the DQ Blizzard Cake? Go for it, Mama!
And if that meant I got chubby, I didn’t care. I hit a breaking point and realized, I’d rather be heavy with a clear and happy mind than jacked with endless amounts of stress and self-loathing.
In dropping the idea that I had to eat like a perfect little pipsqueak, in cutting out the unnecessary goal of a six-pack (it’s not actually something I really care for or need), and in accepting that my body might get a little bigger, my relationship with food, and with myself, completely changed.
My daily dose of guilt and heinous self-talk surrounding eating was gone. I felt so much freedom because I could try whatever foods I wanted without “ruining” the day. My mental health and self-esteem improved dramatically.
I still do worry a bit about what I eat, and sometimes get disappointed when I eat a lot of junk, but overall, I’m a million times better.
Ironically, allowing myself to have junk food led to significantly less bingeing, actually craving vegetables, and, most interestingly, it led to me losing 10 pounds without really even trying.
I need to make it clear that this post is not about weight—I don’t think we should be aiming for numbers on the scale; we should aspire to just be healthy, both physically and mentally.
What this post is about, though, is perfectionism.
Looking back at my eating problem, I had it because my goal was to be perfect.
When perfection is your aspiration, it’s so easy to get down over the tiniest thing, because anything beyond the exact plan is a slip up. And then, that little thing leads to you just throwing everything to shit.
For me, this has come in the form of:
Binge eating anything I can find because I ate one extra granola bar.
Not blogging for weeks, even months, because I can’t get the post just right.
Wanting to get all of my projects done at work, realizing that it’s not going to be possible that day, so then just freaking out and doing nothing for an hour.
Crying and feeling like a failure because I got 9/10 on a spelling test. (This was in grade 2, and the word was famous. I spelt it fameous.)
I’m finally seeing this toxic perfectionism mindset, and I don’t want it to continue because I know it’s just not healthy. Not to mention, it always leads to me taking steps backwards, not forwards.
In overcoming this issue with food, and of course, in consuming positive content and talking with my therapist, here are some things that I have learned and am learning I need to do to break free.
1. Aim for great, not for perfection.
You know how I feel about Gary Vee.
Perfection is literally not possible, so aspiring for it is a sure-fire way to ensure failure.
I think we need to remove that impossible target, and instead go for good or great or amazing.
And we must also remember that on route to those goals, it may be messy and we may make mistakes, but that’s OK. That’s a necessary part of life.
Side note: With food, I know that I improved after I fully went in the opposite direction of perfect and just didn’t care at all. But I definitely don’t recommend doing that. That was a short-term thing. Now my goal is to eat healthily but still enjoy all food. Somewhere in between the unhealthy extremes is defs a good way to go.
2. Just start, and keep going.
For me, this one is less about food, and more about everything else.
When I started this blog, I spent so much time trying to come up with a perfect plan for what it would be. Weeks went by as I tried to plan everything out perfectly, and then, when I finally got started, things ended up changing from the plan anyway (my blog was supposed to be about learning to cook, and I haven’t cooked a thing in months).
Now that my blog is up and running, I go through periods when I feel frozen because I think each post needs to be groundbreaking. Then I lose so much time and momentum.
I’m learning that no post can be perfect anyway, so rather than spending time pondering and losing motivation, maybe it’s more important that I just be consistent. (Lol, I sound unconvincing. But it’s because this is something that I’m still working on and trying to wrap my head around!)
You totally don’t have to watch this, but in this video, Jay Shetty talks to the guy who started Netflix, Marc Randolph. Marc says that rather than pondering and trying to create a big, perfect idea and plan, he kind of just started working on something, and through trial and error, it became Netflix.
Jay also talks about how his content is about 75 per cent when he posts it because he knows that if he tries to get to 100, he’ll never get there and never post.
Working on/struggling with this.
3. Be nicer to yourself.
This is a super tough one for me. When things don’t go just right, the talking in my head can get so negative. I think I’ve believed that if I put myself down, that will motivate me to do better.
I’m beginning to realize that my terrible self-talk actually does the opposite, and positivity and encouragement are the real answers for taking steps toward my goals—and for just being in a good mental place in general.
My therapist has been encouraging me to talk to myself the way I would talk to a friend. Doing that certainly helped me to make peace with food, and I’m hoping it will help me make peace with the everyday as well.
My nephew, Carter, being like, “Mama Katie, you have to be nicer to yourself.” And I’m like, “I know, right, Carty?”
What I’ve learned/some realizations:
My binge eating problem was actually a perfectionism problem.
Perfect ain’t a thing!
We gotta be nicer to ourselves, man!