Food Porn on Twitter...

Way too many contradictions for me--A follower on Twitter posted the following bio:
"Get weight off fast with the appetizer diet cookie!" There is NO way!!! One bite of that flour/sugar combination (even if it is "organic" and/or natural or artificial)and off I go to the food addict "crack house", which for me is any grocery store or restaurant. Appetizer? It would be my breakfast, lunch, dinner AND snacks for days (in addition to a bunch of flour/high-fat protein items)!

A number of "Tweeters" LOVE to talk about food. No, that's an understatement. There are THOUSANDS of Twitter-lovin' foodies who dream in luscious epicurean tongue-stimulating panaromas, wake up in the throes of horn-a-plenty climax, then wax orgasmal about the experience in 140 characters or less. I call it food porn 101, although they're actually teaching graduate level courses. The title for top gastro-pornographer? @CBCebulski, art editor for Marvel comics. The rest of the @Marvel staff comes in at a pretty close second place, especially @AgentM, whose blog is titled "Agent M Loves Tacos"!

Not a great place for a recovering food addict to be sometimes. But there's always other things to talk about that don't trigger my food addictive brain. But those can become troublesome, too. I'm discovering that I'm transferring my addiction from food to Twitter. (SIGH) It never ends.

On August 1, 2009...

...I weighed in at 192.8 pounds. Down from an all time high of 400 lbs. I now wear a size 16 top, and a size 18 bottom. I haven't been this size since the summer before junior high school. By the time school started in September, I was already busting out of all those nice school clothes my mother bought me from J.C. Penney's. She was most unhappy with me. Looking back, I can see why. What a difference 39 years makes. At the time, I was smoldering with unexpressed rage about Mom going on and on about how much money she spent on school clothes, and I couldn't wear hardly any of them. I felt like crap.

I don't feel like crap anymore, but I'm not jumping up and down with glee, either. In fact, I'm just reflecting; I'm not sure of what this means. I don't even know how to feel right now.

More about this later, when I can put words into feelings....

Michael Joe Jackson Memories

Photo courtesy of photobucket/iansaintlaurent
The great tragedy of mankind at this time is the failure of the vast majority of human beings to heed the Divine Call, and this is in large part occasioned by the failure of most of those who have believed to live up to the high standard that Bahá'u'lláh has set. This is the condition in which we must work in our service to mankind, turning a sin-covering eye to the faults of others, and striving in our own inmost selves to purify our lives in accordance with the divine Teachings.

(The Universal House of Justice, Messages 1963 to 1986, p. 498)



You already know. Michael "The King of Pop", aka "The Gloved One" died on June 25th, 2009. If you were like me, you didn't believe it when you heard it. I tossed off the story as another ugly rumor about the man. In fact, I dismissed the entire cardiac arrest report as implausible--from my point of view, only morbidly obese or the elderly/severely ill people die from cardiac arrest. Certainly not Michael Jackson! He didn't fit the profile. Well, I'm not a doctor. And as Dr. Sanjay Gupta said on CNN in regards to Michael, "...being thin isn't an indication of overall health". Huh. That's still difficult for me to wrap my brain around. I've spent so much of my life being morbidly obese and wanting to be thin that the concept of a thin person being unhealthy seems too remote to fathom.

I know there are still a lot of people making "Jacko" jokes, or they are "tired" (like my father) of the constant Michael Jackson coverage on T.V. (Note to Dad and others: turn the boob tube OFF!) However, I am trying to the best of my ability to live up to the tenets of my faith, the Baha'i Faith. It isn't easy. When people want to dissect someone's character and how he conducted his daily life, I get the urge to join in with the rabble of the crowd. More and more, however, I also hear a soft, kind voice urging me to refrain from doing this. It's a bit of a lonely place to be, only seeing and saying good things about other people.

Beyond many of the people I know in the Baha'i Faith and in my recovery program (and my own children,praise God),there aren't too many others attempting to see only the good in their fellow inhabitants of this planet. In fact, this point of view is considered, "naive", "unrealistic" or "Pollyanna". Right now, I can honestly say that I do see the "dark side" of others. It's just that I am CHOOSING to focus my attention on the positive characteristics of the people, and if there isn't much there, I try to refrain from comment. Admittedly, this is difficult, especially in regards to my ex-husband and former Vice President Dick Cheney. Oh, and Condaleeza Rice. (I have my reasons!) Obviously, I'm not perfect. But I'm trying.

This is all part of my personal recovery/transformation program. As I open up to see and hear the good in this world, the more I see the positive, loving aspects of myself, a human being living on this big, blue-green marble called Earth. And I'm beginning to love her inhabitants a lot more. This unanticipated benefit to developing "a sin-covering eye"--as I look for the good in people, I can more readily see the good that is within me. I never thought that was at all possible, at least until now. Two events had to happen--I got into recovery from food addiction, and I began deepening my knowledge and understanding of the Baha'i Faith. Ever since I began this leg of my journey through life, each day has been both a gift and a blessing, even in the seemingly "bad" times.

Now, you are saying, what does all this have to do with Michael Jackson? Get to the point! (So impatient, my friends!) Well, I've read a lot of mostly positive comments about Michael Jackson, but the negative ones are also beginning to gain momentum. I've voiced my own doubts about MJ over the past two decades--his bizarre behavior, his ever-changing appearance (he was once SO handsome!)--I've said it all, just like so many other people. Yes, Michael had problems. And so do I. I'm an addict, not a drug addict, but a hardcore, gutter level bottomed-out food addict. I can relate to the characteristics of ANY type of addict, whether they be alcohol, drugs, compulsive spending, workaholism, codependency/enabling, or whatever. The substances, activities and behaviors of each type of addict may be different, but the addict mind is all the same--give me more, more MORE!

I do suspect that Michael was one of us--an addict of some sort. I have no proof of that, of course. But from the comments I heard over the past few days from different people who knew him, it seems that he spent many years in a massive internal battle that he was trying to fight by himself. Ultimately, when an addict tries to conquer addiction on his own, the "beast" (addiction) usually wins the war. I hope that wasn't the case with Michael. Since I feel this way, however, I can't point the finger at him and crow about his outrageous behavior and public mistakes. I can see how I used to be like him, a lonely person in a self-imposed, hellish prison that was constructed as a "shield" against pain and the imagined cause of it--the outside world. All I can say is, "there by the grace of God go I", and pray that Michael works through his earthly sorrows in the afterlife so he can be closer to the Almighty Creator.

Right now, I have so many wonderful memories of the hours of pleasure Michael and his brothers have given me. It all began when my mother came home from shopping at the McChord Air Force Base commissary and base exchange. The year was 1969, and our family was living in a three-bedroom, one bath home in Tacoma, Washington. Among the bags and bags of groceries and household supplies she bought (my parents always stocked up whenever they shopped on-base) was a record album she picked up featuring five extremely good-looking brothers on the cover.

"Here," she said while handing the album to me and my sister Tam to inspect. "I thought you girls might like this."

We didn't just like it; we loved it. We wore that album, and many others that followed out so badly that record needle kept skipping across entire tracks. But the highlight for me came in 1973--the year the Jackson Five FINALLY came to the Pacific Northwest to do a show at the Seattle Coliseum (now re-named whatever-corporate-sponsor arena).

I shrieked like a banshee being pummeled by Godzilla when I first heard the announcement on the radio, which got the immediate attention of my family. They vigorously questioned my sanity, except my eight year old brother, Ricky. He was too busy laughing. I ignored them, and called my friend Patti to tell her. At least she understood me. She screamed louder than I did. (We were fourteen years old, people. Hormone overload and obsessional behavior is just part of a teen-aged girl's development. Remember that if you ever have the misfortune of hosting a slumber party for your daughter and her friends. Don't expect to sleep through the constant chatter, laughter and screams!)

Two months interceding between the day I heard the commercial for "J5" day and the concert date--sixty days of anxiety, pulsating excitement and daydreaming about Jermaine Jackson (HUGE crush on him)during my classes at Baker Junior High School. On the night before the big day, I slept even less I usually did on Christmas Eve. I was awake and getting dressed at the first of dawn.

"That's a damn shame," my mother remarked when she saw me starching and ironing the pantsuit I had bought for the occasion. "I can barely get you out of bed in the morning to go to school, but you'll wake up with the roosters to see that Jackson boy!"

I didn't care what she said. She just didn't understand (Cue DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince); I was going to see my idols, the Jackson Five. NOTHING was going to mess up that day for me, not even the inevitable hair-do ruining Seattle rain. (Which it almost did.)

I don't remember much else about preparing to leave for the drive to Seattle. It was probably the typical family chaos scene whenever we took a trip somewhere. More than likely, we were late picking up my friend Patti from her house, and when we finally got on Interstate 5 North, my father was probably speeding and complaining while my mother kept trying to navigate by telling him what he was doing wrong. In the meantime, Tam, Patti and I sat in the back seat of my parents' blue Chevy station wagon, nervously whispering about the upcoming show while Ricky (siting in the front seat with my parents) kept turning around and making faces at us.

Then it happened--a miracle, literally. The drizzling rain let up, and the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds as my father exited Interstate 5 to downtown Seattle, and stopped at a red light. While we were waiting for the light to turn green, Tam started making these weird, strangulated noises and pointing wildly at something to the right of me. Puzzled, I turned to look, and I saw THEM--the Jackson Five! They were in a long, black limousine, and by the intercession of God's Love (and great sense of humor), the sudden appearance of the sun illumined the interior of the car so we could get a good look at all of them: Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon, Michael and members of their entourage.

Pandemonium broke out in the back seat of my parents' blue station wagon. All three of us emitted stratosphere-shattering high-octave screams that must have sounded like a sonic boom to my parents and Ricky.

"What's wrong with y'all?" Dad roared, while Ricky was beside himself with laughter. Mom just stared at us, horrified. She was a southern-born, genteel Libra, and such behavior was unbecoming of any young lady as far as she was concerned, even more so for the two daughters she had raised. We should have known better. Well, maybe Tam should have. She's a Pisces. I was, and always will be, a tomboyish, rebellious Aries with an innate disdain for "Ms. Manners" and Emily Post.

"Dad!" I screamed. "Hurry up, step on the gas, we have to catch up to that car!"

"What? What car? What you are talkin' about?"

"Don't you see that limo...hurry up, they're getting away!"

"Who?!!"

"The Jackson Five!!!" Tam, Patti and I all screeched in unison, which prompted even more raucous hilarity from my incorrigibly mischievous brother ("They screamed in three part harmony!").

"Awww...y'all imagining things now! You got those Jackson boys on the brain!"

But I was desperate. All I could see was my ONE chance to see and talk to Jermaine, to tell him that he meant the whole universe to me, and...my father was preventing that from happening.

"Dad, please, c'mon, the light is green; hurry up, we can still catch up to them!"

But to my disappointment, he barely tapped on the accelerator, and the limo carrying my heart's desire disappeared into traffic.

"Ain't no way I'm gonna have an accident just so you girls can act a fool!"

I was pissed off at him for years about that.

We did, of course, see them about two hours later. My parents wanted to do the tourist thing and walk around downtown. They offered to buy the three of us hot dogs and sodas, but we refused (Ricky eagerly made his order). My stomach was roiling with nervous anticipation, and for once in my life, food was the furthest thing on my mind. One look at Patti and Tam told me that they felt the same way-- they just wanted to get to our seats in the Arena and wait for our beloved Jacksons to come out on stage. We told my parents and Ricky that we would meet them in the same spot after the concert.

Strangely enough, I can't remember much about the show. All I can recall is that my heart seemed like it was pumping a thousand beats per second, and I nearly lost my voice and my mind when the five brothers hit the stage. When Jermaine sang, "Daddy's Home", I bit down on my left hand to contain myself. The teeth marks were still visible the next day.

The lasting memory that both my sister and I have of that concert is not about Jermaine or Marlon (Tam's fave)--it's Michael. The closing song was "I Wanna Be Where You Are", and MJ belted it out--heart, mind, body and soul. He kept singing and dancing, even when he was backstage. It was electrifying,incredible. Pure magic. The three of us sat in our chairs after the show was over, too stunned to move. We didn't know it before, but we knew it then. We had just witnessed a genius sharing his God-given talent with us. What an awesome privilege!

All I can say is, thank you Michael. May God bless you throughout your continuing spiritual journey.

What it was like...

First,let me show you something:


Now here's the scientific explanation from the article Scientists Find a Link Between Dopamine and Obesity :
The lower PET scan images, labeled FDG, show glucose metabolism in the brains of obese and control (comparison) subjects. There are no differences. The upper PET scans show where the radiotracer C-11 raclopride binds to dopamine receptors. These images show that obese subjects have fewer dopamine receptors than control subjects.

Brookhaven scientists have done extensive research showing that dopamine plays an important role in drug addiction. Among other things, they've found that addictive drugs increase the level of dopamine in the brain, and that addicts have fewer dopamine receptors than normal subjects.

"Since eating, like the use of addictive drugs, is a highly reinforcing behavior, inducing feelings of gratification and pleasure, we suspected that obese people might have abnormalities in brain dopamine activity as well," says psychiatrist Nora Volkow, who was also involved in the study.

Okay, so in plain language--bottom left PET scan shows the glucose metabolism of a "normie", the normal sized person who can pass by a Cinnabon shop or pizza place in the mall and never think about buying something unless he or she is hungry. And even then, they might forgo those heavenly smells in favor of something reasonable and healthy, let's say, a nice big salad. Yeah, they do that. That's why they're normies, and I'm not. It takes constant prayer and a lot of cell phone calls to other food addicts to get me past Lucifer Morningstar's playground, aka the food court. And I walk very fast.

The bottom right picture shows the glucose metabolism of an obese person, who is more than likely a food addict like me. The scientists say there's little difference in the glucose processing in the brains of the normie and the obese person. They look different to me, but they're the experts. Maybe it's just that everyone's brain looks different on a PET scan, or to coin an old phrase, "as individual as our fingerprints". Glucose, for those who might not recognize the word, is the word for the sugar that's in all of our bodies. There's little difference between the two, the scientists say. Huh. Maybe they should have scanned MY brain.

The top PET scans show where the party gets started. The normie (top left picture) has more open pleasure receptors, which are places in their brains where dopamine (the natural high stuff)is given a VIP pass to get in. Running, playing checkers, skipping rocks, smelling roses, hot-tubbing--all of these activities get into a normal person's "party-over-here" pleasure-seeking receivers.

No such luck with the obese person (top right picture). The bouncer squashes most of the dopamine's action at the front door. Stop right there, buddy. Unless the dopamine is carrying a bag filled with a triple cheeseburger with giant-sized chili cheese fries, an extra large mocha chocolate chip milk shake and a huge slab of Oreo-crust cheesecake, the Big "D" ain't gettin' past the velvet rope. The obese person's pleasure seeking brain, ONLY recognizes Dr. Feelgood when he has Ms. Nasty hanging on his arm looking like a syrupy-sweet concoction oozing with fat.

Angela's aside: No, I do not eat like that now. Not even close! [See note below.]In fact, at 400 lbs I couldn't eat all that. Not at one time, at least. I had to wait at least two hours before I could finish it. It would be gone by 10 pm, though.

This is only a small part of an obese food addiction process. There's so much more to it, and I don't have the energy to delve into all that right now. But I can imagine all those scientists and researchers at the U.S. Department of Energy's Brookhaven National Laboratory are trying to come up with the right combination of chemicals to make those dopamine receptors open up and be free. Good people, those scientists and researchers. It's just too bad that food addiction is so much more complex than brain chemistry. Some of those scientific types even think that anti-depressants could get those receptors working. Poor souls. They just don't know the power of the dark side.

More about this later. It's a very long story.

Note: On a daily basis, I eat carefully measured amounts of protein, vegetables and fruit. The only additions to this is one ounce of oatmeal in the morning, 64 or more ounces of water to drink throughout the day, and decaf coffee or tea after breakfast. No artificial sweeteners, either.

Little Girl Addict

A "discussion" on Twitter about whether parents should allow their children to eat sugared cereals became pretty heated today. First of all, mothers go on the serious offense if they perceive that another woman has something negative about how she is raising her children. Add to the mix a disagreement over what is "good nutrition" for children, and whoa...ladies, ladies, ladies! Let's break it up and go to your separate corners, all right!

Well, I happen to agree with the moms who feel that feeding refined sugar and flour products to children is not only nutritionally unsound, but it is also setting them up for some serious issues with food addiction. It may not happen while they are children--they might get to their 30s or 40s before the weight starts piling on. But it's a lot more complicated than "oh, I'm getting older and my metabolism is slowing down." It's all about craving the good stuff--the hot,fresh French bread slathered with butter, deep dish pizza with loads of oozing extra cheese and pepperoni, mountains of nachos dripping with cheese, salsa, sour cream and guacomole--are you getting the picture here? And all of those delights are usually introduced in childhood.

Now, mothers do not know how their children will react to this food. They have no idea that the first bite of Ben Jerry's ice cream at two years old will be become two pints before bedtime at age 45. And that's in addition to the Claim Jumper family size lasagna that Mommy's former sugar pumpkin had for dinner. No, there's no crystal ball that can predict a morbidly obese future for Mama's lil' darlin'. But Mom can certainly keep the odds favorable by keeping the fresh veggies and fruit on her sweetie-kin's plate, and putting a permanent moratorium on all refined flour and sugar products. If you don't give it to them, they won't develop a taste for it, at least not on your watch. They can (and will) do whatever they want once they are grown. But you will breathe a lot easier knowing that it won't be because you piled that poison into their systems.

You don't think it's poison? An occasional treat is not going to be harmful? All right, you don't have to believe anything I say. Just check out what the good Dr. McDougall has to say about it:

Food Processing Raises Insulin Levels and More

When people consume significant quantities of unhealthy foods for prolonged periods of time their bodies show signs of distress, usually a rise in one or more risk factors—such as an elevation of blood sugar, cholesterol, triglycerides, blood pressure, and/or insulin. These values are called “risk factors” because they are associated with heart disease, diabetes, hypertension and obesity. The association is not one of “cause and effect,” but rather rich foods cause them to rise and concurrently cause people to become sick.

The refining of plant foods commonly results in elevations of insulin levels. When whole grains are ground into whole flours nothing is added or removed, yet the properties of the food have changed. The physical structure has gone from a nugget to a powder—as a result the surface area of the food exposed to the intestinal lining has increased and the natural fibers of the food have been disrupted. This simple grinding process results in a greater elevation in the insulin levels in a person’s blood after eating, than that which is caused by the whole grain.1 During the next step of purification the whole grain flour is sifted to remove the chaff, thereby eliminating dietary fiber, vitamins, minerals and other important nutrients. The end product of this purification is white flour, which causes an even greater rise in insulin than the unrefined flour.

A classic experiment reported in 1977 showed similar effects on insulin production from the processing of fruit.2 After eating an apple, subjects showed a small rise and fall in blood sugar (glucose) and a small rise in blood insulin levels. Applesauce, made by simply grinding the apples, caused a greater rise in insulin and subsequent fall in blood sugar. The juice, made by removing the pulp, caused the largest rise in insulin and fall in blood sugar levels. These kinds of studies demonstrate that consuming grains, vegetables and fruits in their unprocessed form is healthiest for the body.

Look, there's no doubt that my mother loved me. She had no idea that I had a very dangerous propensity to be addicted to flour, fats and sugar(probably genetic, since most of my family members are addicts of one sort or another). There's nothing wrong with giving a little candy to a pretty little sweet, quiet and well-behaved child, is there? My mother told me about how some Japanese women thought my sister and I were living dolls, and they gave us handfuls of rice candy. I was about a year and a half, my sister was six months old. Later, I remember being intoxicated by the smell of my mother's homemade oatmeal and raisin cookies, and feeling crazed with anticipation for the second they came out of the oven. I was four, not yet fat.

But in two short years, I was chubby. By eight, I was fat. At age ten, I was obese. And my addiction to flour, sugar and fat spiraled beyond any measure of control. I weighed 301 pounds after I gave birth to my son in 1982. I was 24 years old. My mother was almost in physical pain every time she looked at me when I was at that weight. Little did she know that I would weigh 100 pounds more by age 42. But at least she didn't have to be tormented with guilt by the sight of me at that time. She'd had several heart attacks and a major stroke, and the result was she was far too ill to take note of my double-wide body.

It wasn't my mother's fault. She didn't know that sugar and flour would cause an unbelievably strong reaction in my body, creating intense cravings and total mental obsession with getting more and more food. My mom wanted a much better life for me. But those powerful drugs, flour and sugar, were more powerful than my mother's unconditional love.

I would like for the reader to watch the excerpt from the TLC (The Learning Channel)series "Inside Brookhaven Obesity Clinic" and consider this--all of those super morbidly obese people were just like me. They lost control of their addiction to flour and sugar products, and they had been condemned to an unhealthy, tortuously hellish existence that is isolated from most people and normal activities. And I'm sure their mothers didn't want them to be food addicts any more than mine.

Thoughts about Brookhaven Obesity Clinic

There are a lot of problems, as I see it, with Brookhaven's program. They claim to have a high sucess rate, but compared to what? Only 3% of all dieters ever get to their weight loss goals on their own. And out of that 3%, most of them will re-gain all of their weight plus more within the next five years. I know; I've lived it.

But if Brookhaven calls itself a facility that treats food addiction, then they better start doing something more than snatching the addicts' food away, and telling them that in exchange for eating 15,000 calories, they get to(woohoo, what fun when you are defying gravity with every step) exercise and talk to a shrink. Terrific. How motivating. That makes ME want to sign up! Luckily, I don't qualify for their program anymore! (Actually it's all due to my Higher Power, and yes, I'm referring to the 12-steps. It works for me. Nothing else, INCLUDING gastric bypass surgery, has.)

Look, anytime you take away a substance or behavior away from an addict, they become angry, depressed, pathetic, irrational, and totally unable to conceptualize the long term benefits of changing their lives. Losing 200-700 pounds seems like a fantasy, an unattainable goal filled with pain and frustration. (You should have seen me when I was de-toxing from flour and sugar. I would have scared the Incredible Hulk!) No wonder they sneak food into the hospital. The short term satisfaction of eating their binge food becomes much more desirable than that distant future of "someday I will be thin and normal."

And Brookhaven's food looks pretty disgusting. So what do these patients have to look forward to each day? Not much. There you have it. Relapse city. Not only that, they allow them to eat flour products as part of their daily food plan. Sorry folks, for food addicts, bread is NOT the staff of life--it is EVERYTHING in life, their love, their comfort, their joy! And it is addictive. One piece of bread is never enough. Why do you think they keep ordering delivery pizza? The addiction to flour has been triggered by the bread they eat in the hospital, and they want more!

The down side of taking away an addict's favorite binge food is dealing with the addict. Without their fix of flour and sugar, you have some pretty surly patients on your hands. Unless they are given, like me, spiritual and emotional support and a way to feel good about themselves. A diet feels like punishment. Exercise feels like punishment. In fact, LIVING feels like punishment to a food addict, even though the thought of dying is terrifying. But even the threat of death won't keep a hardcore food addict out of the pizza. My suggestion? Start some 12 step meetings that focus on recovering from food addiction in the hospital, and require the patients to attend at least one a day. Make sure that the speakers for the meetings are people who have lost at LEAST 100 pounds, preferably more, and have kept it off for more than a year (preferably five years or more). The patients won't like it, but they don't like what they are doing now. But they need to hear stories of hope and recovery from people who know exactly what they going through on a daily basis, and develop a network of support that will help them when they return to their homes.

Most people underestimate the fact that flour products are highly addictive (and toxic, but I won't get into that). Normal eaters (and food addicts in denial) can't understand it, but it's true. How many times have we seen in the series Brookhaven patients ordering in pizza? It's ALL about the bread: buttery, flaky croissants, an extra-large deep dish Chicago-style pizza smothered in extra cheese and pepperoni, mountains of fried chicken served with buttered biscuits and/or cornbread, mashed potatoes and rich, creamy gravy. Flour and fat--a food addict's dream. Without daily spiritual and emotional support from understanding people who have been down that addiction path, that "dream" will kill them. And more often than not, it does.

Top off the flour/fat combo with the sugary stuff for dessert, and the cravings and compulsion to eat and eat and eat even more becomes unbearably overwhelming. Next stop--face down in the food, around the clock. Trust me. I've been there. I didn't get to 400 pounds by eating fresh fruit and salad. That's what I eat now,now that I'm more than 200 pounds down from my highest weight. And I resisted eating the vegetables most all. I tolerate them now, but in exchange for eating food I'm not too crazy about, I have a much clearer connection to my Higher Power and other people on a daily basis. And life is better. It just takes a very long time for a food addict like me to see that. And I couldn't do this on my own. I have NO willpower. The best way for me to keep eating healthy is to never put any flour or sugar products in my mouth, ever. That may seem harsh to some, but it's the truth.

I had nearly die three times, have Roux-en-Y gastric bypass surgery (July 11, 2002), lose 150 pounds and re-gain 85 back, and once I got into recovery, complain bitterly about the nasty tasting food until I finally surrendered to this program. I was severely hard core addict sinking deeper and deeper into the food. I didn't know about Brookhaven when I was deep into the addiction, but I doubt if my outcome would have been much different than the patients in the series. At 400 pounds, in excruciating pain and confined to a wheelchair, I was a quarter step away from the life those super morbidly obese patients have been doomed to live. And that's a tortuously horrific living death.

Family is where the heart is

My grandson Xavier staring at a pinata with deadly focus and intent. My joy, my love, my heart!

I had a wonderful Mother's Day. No, I didn't get a bunch of flowers (my kids know better), some chocolate (they REALLY know better) or a special brunch at my favorite restaurant. Not that I wouldn't have minded having brunch with my family, but unfortunately, I can't go anywhere near a restaurant these days, especially during a Mother's Day celebration. I would eat into oblivion. Even now as I'm typing this, I'm having flashes of M-Day brunches past, and I have to banish all food porn thoughts. (Is there any Remover of Difficulties save God? Say: Praise be God; He is God! All are His servants, and all abide by His Bidding!)

So what did I do on Mother's Day? I talked to my three now-adult-children by phone, read a little, watched some movies, slept a bit...in other words, I had a great time relaxing! You may scoff, but trust me--there was a time in my life when I would have given ANYTHING to have one day to myself to just relax! Being a mom does not coordinate very well with the word "relax". In fact, the word should be used to refer women who haven't had any children, or grandmothers like me who have the delight of watching your offspring go through the rigors of child-rearing.

But the whole point of Mother's Day is to let your mother know how much you appreciate her, right? Well, that's my now-adult-children did. They called me without prompting, with no guilt or begrudging sense of "family duty." I am grateful for that, not because I did such a fantastic job raising them. I would love to make that claim, but the truth is, if I hadn't been in 12 step recovery for so many years, my kids would have been doing what I did for years--the old "let's get the flowers and brunch thing over with so I won't feel guilty" trip. Yes, that's what it was like for me. I did Mother's Day with my mom because I didn't want her to feel hurt or that I was slighting her. I wish I could honestly say that I did it because my mother and I had a very close and loving relationship, and spending Mother's Day with her was one way I could demonstrate my love and appreciate her. Don't get me wrong. I did love my Mother, God bless her and may she be comforted in the afterlife by resting in eternally Loving Hand of God. But our relationship was one of constant tension and enmeshment. It never felt comfortable, not even on Mother's Day. Perhaps ESPECIALLY on Mother's Day.

Looking back, there was much I could have done to alleviate the tension between us. But I was too wrapped up in it, and I couldn't see my way out of the buried anger and resentment. In fact, I must say that the anger and resentment was mostly pettiness and immaturity on MY part. I began to see that as her condition began to progress toward terminal. By that time, I had entered recovery from food addiction, and my part in the drama was uncomfortably apparent to me. Being abstinent from flour, sugar and excess portions does that. It isn't all about being able to fit into smaller sizes, believe me.

I've learned a lot from the years I did recovery work in Adult Children of Alcoholics, Overeaters Anonymous and Al-Anon, and much of it had nothing to do with keeping the flour, sugar and excess portions out of my mouth. But I did get enough emotional recovery to decide to raise my own children very differently from my own upbringing. My mother did the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time. I had more information available to me, so I created a very different type of relationship with my kids. I've let them to BE the wonderful human beings that God created them to be. They needed a mother to teach the rules of the game of life, then step aside and let them experience life on their own. That's what I was determined to do. No more enmeshment or mommy-monster controlling every thought and action in the family. My view was that my children were a gift from God, and I did not OWN them. My job was to guide them into the tricky task of being responsible adults. If anything, I'm awed and humbled by the fact that I was given the opportunity to be their mother. By letting them go and grow, they've become magnificently talented and loving people. I can't take credit for that. I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't sought God's guidance and recovery during my child-rearing years.

So yes, I had a nice, quiet Mother's Day without flowers and food that I shouldn't be eating anyway. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Just being mother to my kids and grandmother to my precious grandson is the best gift I could ever have.

In some respects woman is superior to man. She is more tender-hearted, more receptive, her intuition is more intense.

It is not to be denied that in various directions woman at present is more backward than man, also that this temporary inferiority is due to the lack of educational opportunity. In the necessity of life, woman is more  162  instinct with power than man, for to her he owes his very existence.

If the mother is educated then her children will be well taught. When the mother is wise, then will the children be led into the path of wisdom. If the mother be religious she will show her children how they should love God. If the mother is moral she guides her little ones into the ways of uprightness.

It is clear therefore that the future generation depends on the mothers of today. Is not this a vital responsibility for the woman? Does she not require every possible advantage to equip her for such a task?

Therefore, surely, God is not pleased that so important an instrument as woman should suffer from want of training in order to attain the perfections desirable and necessary for her great life's work! Divine Justice demands that the rights of both sexes should be equally respected since neither is superior to the other in the eyes of Heaven. Dignity before God depends, not on sex, but on purity and luminosity of heart. Human virtues belong equally to all!

Woman must endeavour then to attain greater perfection, to be man's equal in every respect, to make progress in all in which she has been backward, so that man will be compelled to acknowledge her equality of capacity and attainment.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Paris Talks, p. 161)

Recurring hernia rupture, toothaches, life

I have three types of hernias--umbilical, incisional and epigastrica. The first two have ruptured. I'm hoping the third won't.


Things that a post op gastric bypass patient SHOULD NEVER DO: a) Eat any flour products of any kind. You WILL stretch your pouch. And if you have a lap band, ask yourself how many times do have to have that thing tightened; b) eat more than the recommended amounts of food that your surgeon and primary care physician advises for you. This is for the same reason listed in a); c)In fact, you should do everything your doctors tell you to do as if your butt's on fire and you're about to turn to cinders if you don't follow instructions; d) DO NOT, EVER IN THIS LIFE OR ANY OTHER, EAT GOMASIO AFTER ANY FORM OF WEIGHT LOSS SURGERY!

Why am I saying this? Well, first of all, many people don't know what gomasio is. Here's a formal definition from About.com's Macrobiotic Cooking section: Gomasio is sesame salt. It is made of toasted sesame seeds and sea salt, and is rich in calcium and iron. Sounds good and healthy, right? Something that a recovering food addict should have as a healthier alternative to salt, right? Yep. It is healthier, unless you have had Roux-en-Y gastric bypass surgery, which means that little pouch your surgeon made out of your stomach cannot process sesame seeds. In fact, sesame seeds tears very nasty holes in that little pouch, which is what happened to me last week. The funny thing is, the same thing happened to me around this time last year, too. It was for a different reason, but once you have an abdominal wall hernia, it's REALLY easy to have one of those holes open up in another spot. And that's what happened to me, which is what I realized as I lay in my hospital bed.

First of all, I had been breaking my abstinence, which means quite simply that I had been eating things that were NOT part of my food plan, AND I was eating amounts of food that were larger than what I had committed to my sponsor. So let's add up all the elements here--eating bread (a definite no-no for someone who's had weight loss surgery), pasta, cheese, cookies, trail mix, cashews, almonds, crackers, bagels, peanut butter, peanut butter-filled preztels, croissants...if I could have possibly lived on bread alone, I would have. Bread and cheese. That's all I wanted, all day long. I'm sure eating that stuff opened the hernia even more than the gomasio.

Here's Wikipedia's explanation of a hernia:

By far the most common hernias develop in the abdomen, when a weakness in the abdominal wall evolves into a localized hole, or "defect", through which adipose tissue, or abdominal organs covered with peritoneum, may protrude. Another common hernia involves the spinal discs and causes sciatica.

Hernias may or may not present either with pain at the site, a visible or palpable lump, or in some cases by more vague symptoms resulting from pressure on an organ which has become "stuck" in the hernia, sometimes leading to organ dysfunction. Fatty tissue usually enters a hernia first, but it may be followed by or accompanied by an organ.

Most of the time, hernias develop when pressure in the compartment of the residing organ is increased, and the boundary is weak or weakened.

* Weakening of containing membranes or muscles is usually congenital (which explains part of the tendency of hernias to run in families), and increases with age (for example, degeneration of the annulus fibrosus of the intervertebral disc), but it may be on the basis of other illnesses, such as Ehlers-Danlos syndrome or Marfan syndrome, stretching of muscles during pregnancy, losing weight in obese people, etc., or because of scars from previous surgery. (Angela's note: I had the last two conditions.)

Thank God I stayed away from doing a lot of sweets. I did some, but that dumping thing that happens to post op gastric bypass patients puts a damper on a "good" time. The splitting headaches, cold sweats, shaking, feeling faint--no thanks. Sweets, as weird as it seems considering my eating history, were things that I ate in moderation. (Hey, I said it's weird!) So,I did not go buck wild with the sweet stuff. Why not, you ask? Sensible question, considering that I was already messing myself up my weakened abdominal wall with all that pouch-swelling bread; why not go all the way? Why not spend a day at the Cheesecake Factory, or at Freeport Bakery, where they make some of Sacramento's most sumptuous pies, cookies, cakes and tarts? I have no logical answer for that one, except that in the deep recesses of my food addicted-brain, I acknowledged that what I was doing wasn't very wise, and that I was already risking another hernia rupture. The very nasty complications from eating too much sugar would have put me in my final resting place. I narrowly avoided it this time. God must have a plan for me, but I know I can't keep doing this to myself.

Now, here's the low down and dirty deal--I have been obese since age 9, morbidly obese since age 25. I'm now 51. All those years of dieting and gaining weight over and over again has stretched my abdominal wall to breaking point, or as my surgeon told me, "it has been severely compromised." I created the first hernia the night I had binged beyond human capacity, which I described here in an earlier blog.


So that umbilical cord hernia was sewn up; I went home and within months, forgot about it. Forgot that once the abdominal wall, that precious muscle tissue that keeps essential organs like the intestines, the colon, the bladder, becomes toilet paper thin after years of abusing food, there is a high risk of having another weak spot will break open. When that happens, those precious organs are displaced and sometimes burble out of that little hole in the wall. That event is known in medical circles as organ incarceration, or as I wrote in last years blog, "jailed guts". Last year, it was part of my large intestine that tried to escape through the hernia opening. This year it was a section of my colon. That was not good. Not good at all.

My surgeon, the calm, cool and collected Dr. Mortensen, informed me during our pre-op talk (actually, she did a lot more talking than I did because I was just a whisper away from shrieking in pain) that they would do some exploratory procedures first with two laproscopic cameras. If I wasn't hurting so badly, I would have geeked out and said, "Cool! Go for it!" Even now, I really think the idea of having tiny cameras inside of me taking pictures of my innards is pretty awesome.(Yes, I know I'm weird.)

"If we go in and find infection(in or around your colon), we may have to surgically remove part of it," she told me.

I didn't react to that at the time because the morphine was just beginning to kick in. But what I didn't realize was I could have been wheeled out of the operating room equipped with a brand-spanking new colostomy bag attached to me. Now, that right there is not cool. Exposing the world to the product of my elimination system is a very unflattering look, even for a fashion dud like me.

Luckily, that didn't happen. I was fitted with a synthetic mesh to keep the hernia from opening again, sewed and stapled up. I do have a drain attached at the incision site, though. That will be removed this Thursday at my follow-up appointment with the calm, cool and collected Dr. Mortensen. I have a third hernia, located much higher than the other two. It hasn't opened up yet, but the good doctor is obviously concerned that it might. We will talk about this when we meet again.

A week prior to this surgical event, I had a massive toothache. Turned out to be a very deep gum infection. I'm in need of a root canal, scheduled for May 4, 2009. And the wreckage of my addictive eating past just keeps piling up.

My problem is that I have underestimated the power of the dark side. Being a food addict means that if I'm not 100% diligent about working my recovery program, I will die way before I'm supposed to. Slow suicide, plain and simple. And I'm not ready to go, not like that. So I'm abstinent, today. And I have been since the surgery. Have I learned my lesson? I can't say. Look at what's happened to me in the course of a year. If nothing else, I've learned it doesn't matter that I very much dislike the way my food in this program tastes. I just have to endure it for one meal at a time so I can live one more day, and pray at night that I can wake up in the morning and do what I need to do to remain alive another day. That's what it is for me right now. And I refuse to think about it any other way. I'm not happy, joyous and free yet. But I'm alive, and still able to raise a little hell while I'm in this realm of existence. For today, that's enough.

Breaking real bad...

Flour products and fat. That's what kills abstinence for me. Forget cake, ice cream, cookies...I'll eat 'em, but I CRAVE bread and cheese. In almost any form.

Detox sucks butt. Seriously. I got into a really, really bad space that more than likely began months ago: "So what if the protein isn't EXACTLY 4.0 ounces? It's not like I'm going to gain any weight if it's 4.05!" "Dammit, I don't feel like making outreach calls right now. I wanna read my book (or watch a movie)! I'll make six calls tomorrow!" "I'm too tired to read the Big Book! I've read it about 100 times already!"

Not EVEN a slippery slope. Try fast-moving mudslide down the mountain that ends with a big dirty mess at the bottom. That's what breaking my abstinence has been like for me. And denial? Angela bright and cheery: "No, I'm o.k.! Everything's fine!" I slid down that muddy mountain hand in hand with Ms. Major Denial. I'm puddling deep in the Valley in the Shadow of Death. That's what breaking my abstinence means to me right now.

There is a rather worrisome snag in doing this life-saving program--I hate the food, meaning, the food I have to eat for recovery. It's healthy, nutritious and all that, but it's not very tasty. ESPECIALLY breakfast--plain yogurt, plain oatmeal (and I do mean PLAIN, as in no milk, butter, natural or artificial sugar)and a serving of fruit. Of course, I only like the fruit. The rest is tortuously disgusting. But apparently, a low bottom, gutter level food addict like me has to learn to eat for nutrition only. Taste has nothing to do with it. If it tastes good, I'll want to eat more. And more. And more. So I grimly tolerate the stuff. I used to put artificial sweetener on the yogurt and oatmeal, but I can't do that anymore. It just leads me back to my addictive eating. So right now, I loathe breakfast. And it used to be my favorite meal of the day.

This is where I am right now. I have to be honest because pretending to be Ms. Mary Sunshine about the food just got me into lying about what I was really eating, and a seriously dangerous break in abstinence. With that in mind, I end this post by saying this to get out what I am truly feeling right now:

IT SUCKS!!! IT SUCKS;IT SUCKS; IT SUCKS!!!!!

A Family in need of serious intervention

Philip Chawner, 53, and his 57-year-old wife Audrey weigh 24st. Their daughter Emma, 19, weighs 17st, while her older sister Samantha, 21, weighs 18st.

(Angela's note: A stone equals 1.40 pounds; two stones are 2.80 pounds, and so on. So Philip and Audrey apparently weigh 336 pounds each. Emma weighs 238 pounds, and Samantha weighs 294 pounds. That's 1,162 pounds all together. That's a whole lotta "chips" going down right there!)

Family who are 'too fat to work' say £22,000 worth of benefits is not enough

A family of four with a combined weight of 83 stone say they are "too fat to work" and need more than the £22,000 (31,955.17 in US dollars, whoa, the British pound is pounding the mess out of the dollar!)they currently receive in benefits.
The Chawners, haven't worked in 11 years, claim their weight is a hereditary condition and the money they receive is insufficient to live on.

Mr Chawner said: "What we get barely covers the bills and puts food on the table. It's not our fault we can't work. We deserve more."

The family claim to spend £50 ($72.6322 US) a week on food and consume 3,000 calories each a day. The recommended maximum intake is 2,000 for women and 2,500 for men.

"We have cereal for breakfast, bacon butties for lunch and microwave pies with mashed potato or chips for dinner," Mrs Chawner told Closer magazine.

"All that healthy food, like fruit and veg, is too expensive. We're fat because it's in our genes. Our whole family is overweight," she added.

Each week, Mr and Mrs Chawner, who have been married for 23 years, receive £177 in income support and incapacity benefit. Mrs Chawner is paid an extra £330-a-month disability allowance for epilepsy and asthma, both a result of being overweight.

Mr Chawner gets £71 a month after developing Type 2 diabetes because of his size. He was on a waiting list for a gastric band last year, but a heart condition made the operation unsuitable. Their daughter Samantha receives £84 in Jobseekers' Allowance each fortnight while Emma, who is training to be a hairdresser, gets £58 every two weeks under a hardship fund for low-income students.

Emma, said: "I'm a student and don't have time to exercise" she said "We all want to lose weight to stop the abuse we get in the street, but we don't know how."

I've never read a story that screamed "FOOD ADDICTS IN NEED OF INTERVENTION, TREATMENT AND RECOVERY!" more than this one. It makes me sad. Yes, I was once too obese to work. I had all kinds of medical issues related to my weight. And most, but not all, have cleared up since losing 200 pounds. My other medical problems are caused by permanent damage done to my body through morbid obesity, which in itself is caused by being addicted to eating.

About three months ago, I was diagnosed with something called diffuse arthritis, which is a not-so-common form of degenerative arthritis. Calcium has built up along both sides of my lower vertebrae, and bone spurs have developed on my spine. There's no cure, and surgery is too risky. I just have to live with it. But even living with pain for the rest of my life is not going to stop me from being a productive member of this society.

My intention is to recover from food addiction, get a weight that is healthy for me (don't know what that is yet, and I don't worry about it), and become an increasingly productive member of society. I do not expect the government to continuously pay me for being sick. Right now, I do have a lot of medical risks that do interfere with my ability to work. But I look at this as temporary. I can't and won't become dependent of disability for a living. I'm grateful that I have worked enough to pay into the system, thank you God, and that my basic needs are being met right now.

But the issue is food addiction, as I see it. Obviously, the parents have passed on their eating habits to their daughters. Is there an "Intervention" type show over on the BBC like there is on A&E channel here? Can anyone get this family into some kind of treatment program so they can have productive, fulfilling lives? It's obvious that they are suffering from a problem that is far beyond their ability to control. Addiction of any type is serious, especially when the substance is food. We all have to eat, and in the Western world, food is literally everywhere--on television, the Internet, magazines, billboards, neon signs. Don't believe it? If you are a boomer, finish this sentence: "You deserve a ___ ___." Or, "Have it___ ___." I don't know what the current fast food ads are like because I refuse to watch them. Yes, I'm not neutral to them yet. So I have to protect my recovery by keeping the T.V. off and clicking away from food ads on the Internet.

So when food is so prevalent that we can literally collect pennies to get a 99 cents fix at Mickey D.'s (short of McDonald's, for those of you outside of the U.S.), people have an open highway leading to food addiction. That addiction "ON" switch can be easily triggered in the brain, and it will run amok very, very quickly. Question: How many of you have ever bought bags of sweets from Dollar Tree or the 99 Cents store and felt elated because you got ALL that "good stuff" for cheap? If you are a food addict (and you don't have to be obese or even overweight to be one), you probably felt like you had found a leprechaun's gold pot at the end of the rainbow. That is, until you devoured all of the shopping bags of candy, cookies and other stuff by the end of the night and you have a splitting sugar hangover and horrendous upset stomach. But that's ok, right? It sure tasted good, didn't it? You can't WAIT to go back and buy some more! Addiction, my friend, addiction!

The Chawner family may just have a genetic predisposition for obesity. My family does too, at least the women do. But it's not hopeless, and just like the Chawners (if they ever come to believe it), I'm not helpless. There is recovery for food addiction and its outward symptom, morbid obesity. I pray that they find it, soon.