I’ve Gained Weight. Now What Am I Gonna Do?

Perspectives for those with bulimia, anorexia and those with no eating disorders at all.

"How much weight have I gained since we started working together?", “I want to know." That was the pressing question.

Ellie has been seeing me for several years, for periods at a time. She presented with severe bulimia, purging 3 times per day, every day, after each of the three times per day she allowed herself to eat. Back then, eating and keeping food in was simply not an option. Over time, her purge frequency decreased and she normalized her food intake, ultimately giving up her bulimia. 

Beyond her initial and modest weight increase, her weight has remained stable within a 2-3 pound range over the past many years. And that initial increase can be attributed to two things—no longer living in a dehydrated state and better nourishment.

To me, the better question for Ellie to ask would have been " how much better off am I since I’ve changed my eating?" In spite of the modest weight increase that she had no interest in, what did Ellie get in return?

When confronted with this question, she appropriately retreats from her disordered thoughts which periodically reemerge and readily acknowledges just how far she has come, how much better she feels. She remembers that there's no way she could've taken care of her newborn grandchildren in the state she was in then, or be trusted driving back and forth to their home. No, the price she paid, the few pounds gained, is nothing given what she's getting in return.

Gaining weight is rarely seen as a positive in our culture. Advertisements fail to praise us for outgrowing our jeans.

But for some, that is exactly what needs to happen. Staying at the weight you were at when you were 12  is hardly appropriate when you are 16, 20, or 40 years old. And even if your weight is objectively 'within the normal range' for the population, it may not be in range for you. It drives me crazy when doctors tell their patients that their weight—a  weight that has never been maintainable without an eating disorder because it's too low—is fine, because they are basing it on the charts for populations. Why the double standard? Because if you've always been a healthy larger size and you've lost weight through unhealthy measures, that 'normal range weight' may be anything but normal. Perhaps given your build, your genetics, your muscle mass, your history of athleticism, your body needs to be at a higher-than-average weight. And fighting it to be at a place you've never been will only contribute to unhealthy ways of eating and thinking. For your mental and physical well-being, weight gain may be just what's needed.

Gaining weight without an eating disorder?

Not long ago—a couple of months, maybe—I noticed that snugness around the middle. No, my jeans hadn't just been dried at high heat for too long. And really it was not in my head. Everything was fitting a bit too tightly. (Yes, even the bras.) Not one to weigh myself with any regularity, I suddenly jumped on the scale. I felt the need to reality check, to verify what I was feeling.

Yup. My weight was up.

Save your rush to judgement, please--it has nothing to do with the cupcakes, the chocolates and my homemade, full fat lavendar ice cream. Ok, let me clarify. No "I told you so's" necessary, because I ate all those foods before. But over the months of summer, the balance wasn't perfect, and so my weight crept up. 

Could it be that I was super active through the end of June, training for my fundraising ride, only to reduce my activity precipitously with the heat wave and awful humidity? Perhaps. Could it be that I've been socializing more, sipping on wine with dinner more nights than previously. Perhaps.  Could I have possibly joined my husband for an after dinner snack—just because it looked good and I thought I'd keep him company—more often than I really needed from a nourishment standpoint? Likely. Like you, I'm not perfect.

But the bigger question is what to do about it. If you were me, would you:

1. exercise a couple of hours each day to make up for the previous reduction in activity?
2. reduce your food intake to compensate for the extra calories consumed?
3. seek the guidance of a Registered Dietitian?

Ok. So I'm the RD so  I'd better come up with a fix.

But if you don't fall into the categories described above--those truly needing to gain weight, or those who've gained appropriately as a result of releasing yourself from disordered behaviors--and you find you've gained some unnecessary weight, here's what I'd suggest. Intuitively, it may seem appropriate to make up for any overeating in the days or weeks which follow. But don't do it! Instead, refocus. Get back to the basics, particularly if you've found yourself slipping into old patterns. Have you forgotten the basics? For starters,

Sit. No eating as you walk around the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. No eating standing at the fridge. And no, don't sit at the fridge; seat yourself at a kitchen or dining room table.

Separate. Eating and distractions,  (other than your family which you can't get rid of) should be separate activities. TV watching, texting, reading--these should be separate from eating. (Unless, I'll add, you are struggling to get food in and find that being less mindful is actually helpful--which it often is!)

Eat with your senses. Are you seeing your food and acknowledging what you're eating? Are you experiencing the textures of what you're eating? Are you tasting your food? Doing so will allow you to slow the pace and to feel more satisfied with what you're eating. You'll enjoy the food so much more!

Choose what you enjoy. Are you giving yourself permission to eat what you like, or holding on to rules about what's allowed vs forbidden, in your mind?

Tune in to  your hunger. Don't wait  until you are at the extremes of hunger--if you're starving you are more likely to struggle to eat as described above, and overeat.

Re-explore fullness. Are you eating until you are stuffed? Might a modest adjustment in portions be appropriate? That said, if you start with smaller portions, do give yourself permission to eat again later--after about an hour--regardless of what you you ate before.

Don't panic! And don't take radical steps to 'fix' the problem. Restrictive eating, denying your body's signals and needs, does nothing positive in the long run. It will only perpetuate an unhealthy cycle and make you feel like c!*P!

Breathe. It won't take long to get yourself back on track. But be realistic--if your eating was off course for some time it will certainly take some time for you to be back to your former, healthy self. Radical dietary changes can have radically negative consequences, so do be patient and appreciate the modest improvements as they happen.

The difference between you and me.

“How presumptuous”, you must be thinking, “to group all of your readers into one lump sum, overgeneralizing between us and you.”

Well, unless you are a member of my exclusive club, the one-in-750-in-the-US-living-with-Multiple Sclerosis, then I think you'll agree. As I'm sitting here awaiting the chemotherapy treatment to infuse into my veins, I'm painfully aware that I live with a chronic disease, a potentially debilitating one at that. But for now, I'm fortunately unaffected by this progressive neurological condition. 

Perhaps, like you, I'm on borrowed time. Borrowed time? Yes, because neither of us can predict just when the impact our conditions will hit us the worst. Or when the damage from our situation will lead to a fatal consequence.

A depressing shift in perspective from me? Not really. In fact, my intent is to show you just how fortunate you are. And to demonstrate that change is, in fact, in your hands.

I live with a healthy dose of denial. (Ok, so we really may not be all too different from each other.) That said, my denial allows me not to dwell on the ‘what ifs’. What if my condition progresses? What if a symptom hits me suddenly, like temporary blindness or double vision, my presenting symptom? And what if I become unable to work? Or walk? Or cycle and hike? Or leaves me unable to be present and functional? 

In spite of my denial, which I find quite beneficial, I am not denying my need for treatment. The stats are quite unimpressive—treatments don't cure MS, just like meds don't cure an eating disorder. But they might prevent my situation from progressing. Or they might not. MS is an unpredictable disease. And boy do I dislike uncertainty. But doing nothing ensures that nothing good can happen. 

Hmm, maybe I ought to change the title of this post to read "What you and I have in common"?

But here's where we differ. Besides the fact that you might be living with an eating disorder—bulimia, anorexia, binge eating disorder—or you might feel ruled by your rules (compelling you to deny yourself enough food or the pleasure of food)—the differences between us are vast.

Here's the biggest: You can do something to reverse your eating disorder or your disordered eating. You can use the tools of CBT or DBT or FBT to move you along. You can potentially utilize your resources—your friends, your family, a higher level of care, if needed. No, it won't be easy and it's not a quick fix. But these are strategies that can turn your condition around.

You can decide it's time to move on, to prevent your rules from ruling you, and eat enough to nourish your brain to soften those unhealthy voices. You can remove the triggers which result in purging and learn to move on after a slip from less than perfect eating and disordered behavior.

There's evidence that people recover, fully recover, from bulimia, binge eating disorder and anorexia, and that normal eating is a real possibility. Yes, you can take an active role in reversing your condition and prevent your eating disorder or disordered eating from robbing you of the life you so deserve.

I have no such option. Sure, I can choose to focus on the positives from living with such a condition as MS, but let's be real. Living constantly aware that any part of my brain or nerve pathway can be damaged and stop working is hardly something to see the positives in. 

In fairness, living with MS has had its benefits. It has made me much more sensitive to the fact that many individuals who look just fine—and act fine, even—may be harboring a condition that zaps them of their energy and steals their ability to life a full life. Living with MS reminds me that I can never look at someone and assume that they are just fine, when they may be living with a disability like MS or an eating disorder or disordered thoughts. Or depression. Or OCD…

Like those of you living with an eating disorder, we share a genetic predisposition to have the diseases we have—and we are not to blame! And our conditions might have been triggered by something in the environment. Stressing about it may only worsen our fate—high stress and anxiety—while not the cause of either of our conditions—may be obstacles to recovery and wellbeing. 

Based on statistics, I'd have mentally checked out of treatment, believing that chronic disability was my fate. But it's not. Not for me and not for you. 

You can live with some denial to get you through the days, but you still need to take your medicine—your food, your nourishment. And we need to put one food in front of the other and follow the recommendations of those in the know—our treatment team members—for without that commitment we fulfill a self-fulfilling prophecy that recovery can't happen. A positive outlook, and the belief that we can beat the statistics is essential to moving forward and making the most of what we’ve been dealt.

Personally, I cannot simply eat or take a medication to cure my MS. But you can certainly do just that. You can help your brain function fully, by eating enough, all the while improving your quality of life.

You can shift your thinking and ultimately your actions, and make change happen. I am at the mercy of MS research to be successful and find a cure for Multiple Sclerosis.

Neither of us is at fault for our conditions. But you are at fault if you take a back-seat approach to management of your eating disorder. Passively showing up for appointments fails to support recovery and well-being. Yet acting to change your course makes all the difference.

So as you move through the day, ask yourself if you are changing what's in your hands to change to move toward recovery. And if you answer no, then it's time to make a plan for moving forward. Not on Monday, nor on January first, but today.

I'm feeling disconnected and groggy right now. The Benadryl pretreatment has hit with a bang. I know no hunger, for now, and my thinking is compromised. My heart rate is slower than usual, and I have little control over much of anything—thank goodness for spellcheck. I'd be at risk if I dared to check out of here and attempt to drive my car or to exercise. I am compromised. Right now, you and I are truly quite similar. But my state is transitive. Yours can go either way, depending upon your actions.

Do not have pity for me, for I am fortunate enough to function 100% and I am living my life to the fullest. Have compassion for yourself, and may this post inspire you to get your butt in gear and turn your situation around.

Dessert Happens

Saturday night. New York City. True story.

I’m out to dinner with my husband while visiting New York City, at a restaurant highly praised by a foodie—friend I’ll call Lloyd. And Lloyd says “you must try the desserts—they’re amazing”, or something to that effect. It’s a 45-minute wait for a seat at the bar (a beautiful, relaxed setting, I’ll add). We share a couple of wine flights—those 3 oz samples, and order our meal.

That part was easy. The arctic char appetizer was divine, surpassed by the two entrees we decided in advance to share. (Basically, I have a hard time deciding and don’t want to limit my options, so I petition my husband that we should share and he generally obliges as he did Saturday. Yes, marrying him was a good decision.) 

Skillfully prepared fish and a butternut squash lasagna—the labels do no justice to their taste. Totally wow, and I don’t use superlatives for food too readily. The bread was similarly fabulous—a whole-wheat sourdough seemingly right from the oven served with sweet butter. Of course I enjoyed a couple of slices as they  were put before me.

I was quite satisfied from this leisurely paced meal. A warm beverage would’ve capped it just fine. But Lloyd’s words hovered. I knew I needed to try dessert. What to do? We started with coffee, a spiced French Press, while the menus sat before us. Okay. Let me just inquire, I thought. So I engaged the bartender/waitperson. “Can you tell me about the lemon curd dessert with chocolate and hazelnut crumble (which sounds so weird I can’t even image getting it but I just need to know!)? And she did. “What would yousuggest?” I prodded further. “This or the apple pie with ice cream?” (which sounded so conventional, I thought). She described them both in glowing terms, then added that the apple pie is the restaurant’s most popular. “Fine, then. We’ll take it. It’s decided.” (My husband, by the way, was somewhat indifferent to having dessert that night.)

Surely I could’ve passed on dessert. But guess what followed? Fresh baked, flaky apple pie with homemade vanilla bean ice cream, of course.

 AND the lemon curd dessert—gratis, I’ll add! This lovely waitperson felt we really needed to try both—perhaps she felt my decision-making pain when I announced my dessert selection.

Now what would you do?

1.    Thank her profusely, then return the second dessert?
2.    Take a couple of bites, then leave the rest because you had enough?
3.    Eat both desserts—sharing them of course—even though it is completely unnecessary?

So after we completed devoured the two desserts, which were as delectable as our foodie-friend promised, what to do? We didn’t need the extra calories (and thankfully calorie counts have no place on these non-chain restaurant menus!)

Breathe. The meal was over and we thoroughly enjoyed it. This was hardly the best match of intake and need. Rather, fullness had been overridden by desire, by opportunistic eating (when would I get to try their desserts again?), and the like.

What’s the worst-case scenario? Okay, we took in more than we needed that meal. So what? This is more the exception than the rule—our eating is generally quite fitting for our need. Compensation would lead to consequences—restriction results in excess hunger and deprivation and potentially rebound overeating, or at a minimum, preoccupation with eating.

Besides, we thoroughly enjoyed the two desserts, and the whole dining experience. No regrets.

Would I do anything differently in the future? Perhaps. I just might make a point of going there more often, so it doesn’t feel like a now-or never experience. Gramercy Tavernis not going away anytime soon. I just need to remember that.