I was doing an orientation with students—as a school librarian, this is a big part of my job this time of year. A colleague who was visiting the library commented to another library staffer, “Wow, Liz has lost a lot of weight. Is she sick?”
Drum roll, please.
I have lost weight. Deliberately. And, naturally, I’m pleased when people notice. But it is interesting to see how varied the reactions can be.
Some people just say, “You lost weight. You’re looking good.” That’s very sweet and I have only one response: “Thank you.”
Others want to know how I did it. That’s a tricky question, as I’m not exactly sure. I was able to get off a couple of medications I was taking, and that may have played a role. But I wonder if that was a cause or simply an effect of my weight loss, which has been going on for nearly a year.
My eating habits have changed drastically since I was diagnosed with allergies to tree nuts and sesame three years ago. I don’t like to eat out as often as I once did, because of the hassle involved in determining which menu items are safe for me. Restaurant food always has more calories than home-cooked fare.
I am unable to take candy, or other goodies offered to me, willy-nilly because I would need to check the ingredients first. Sometimes the list is so full of strange and scary-sounding substances, I lose my appetite. Other times, the print is so small I can’t read it without my reading glasses.
So I am not scarfing down candy very often.
School staffers are well-known for bringing treats in to work, not just at holidays, but on Mondays, Fridays, etc. Yet I cannot eat anything unless I am sure I know what’s in it. I go into anaphylactic shock if I ingest one of my allergens, so I really have to be careful. I have been known to come away from a luscious-looking buffet with several pieces of fruit and a few tortilla chips.
It’s entirely possible that my allergies have contributed significantly to my weight loss.
It may not be a scientifically-proven fact, but I believe that once a person starts limiting what she eats, her stomach “shrinks.” The organ, I mean, not the external array of skin/fat/muscle commonly known as the “belly.” And take it from me, the belly is the last thing to shrink, no matter how much weight you lose.
I have noticed I just don’t eat as much as I used to. I don’t crave sweets. Last year, I liked a snack-sized piece of chocolate or two for dessert at lunch. No more. I think all that ingredient-reading put me off it. An allergic person has to read the ingredients every single time. Once, I went into shock after eating half a Pepperidge Farm roll, though I’d eaten them for years. They suddenly contained sesame.
My major weakness is a caramel-mocha iced coffee. But I only have it once (maybe twice) a week.
Meanwhile, I have developed the ability to stop eating when I am mildly full. I wish I knew how I did this, because I probably could make a lot of money teaching people about it. All I know is that I reach a point at which I know that eating more is going to make me feel uncomfortable. So I stop.
I’m lucky that my husband, Paul, has a very healthy appetite. Also, he’s an omnivore without any allergies. He is almost always willing to finish a meal for me.
Sometimes this may be a just a few tablespoons of chili or a small hunk of baguette. When the amount seems negligible, Paul claims my need to stop is psychological. I know it’s not. If I give myself an appropriate amount of food for my appetite, I eat it all. It’s when I misjudge, when my “eyes are bigger than my stomach,” that I put on the brakes.
People who ask me how I lost weight don’t want to hear all this. Usually I just say, “Portion control,” because that’s the basic truth. I just don’t eat a lot anymore.
Then there are the people who start off complimenting me, but then veer off into negativity. “I don’t know how you managed to take it off in the summer. I just eat ice cream all summer.”
“I actually lost more of it over the winter. I think you’re noticing it now because I had to buy new clothes that fit.”
“How in the world did you lose weight in the winter?”
What can I say when people describe themselves as fat? What can I tell those who fear they’ll never be slim again?
“Portion control” seems pretty heartless in those cases.
So I shake my head, which I suppose could mean a dozen different things. I mean it to say both “don’t lose hope” and “if I can do it you can do it.”
And that is the absolute truth about my weight loss journey.
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