Making Out

So, it's been a busy week! I think when I'm really busy, active, not around the house in close proximity to the pantry, I don't really think about food as much. Maybe I should get a job out of the house? No. My non-profit and my jewelry business can both be done from home, and the thought of leaving Ryan makes me nauseous, so I can't escape the house, just need to find the balance.

So, the other day, Monday morning, I was 151.2, then the next day I was 150. Yesterday I was 148. Today I am 148.2. All in a week. I've eaten well and not grazed in the kitchen. When I wanted "crunchy" I have chosen apples and almonds and ants on a log. And the ".2" came literally after just having some rice and beans with my dinner last night. I also had a dozen corn chips, thinking, "It's just a few...it shouldn't throw me off..." I guess I'm just that sensitive when it comes to carbs. I'm not concerned about the numbers...just reporting them because it helps me keep my head in the game.

HJ, it's not that I'm not having any carbs. It's that I'm trying to make the right carb choices. The closer any food is to the way God made it, the better it is for our bodies. For instance, our bodies recognize a whole grain better than once it's ground into a fine flour. It was designed to process it and use it to its fullest potential. The more we eat the foods that are processed and refined, the slower our bodies are to know what to do with them, thus storing them...It's not that I think I can't ever have these, it's that I know these things can't be the majority of my food intake.

Anyway, so, the other night while I was praying about this whole journey, something came to mind that I've never related to my eating patterns. When I was somewhere between 2nd grade and the beginning of 3rd grade, I was asked to play a game. It was in a friend's fort in his back yard and the game included me, two neighbor boys who were in either 3rd or 4th grade and another friend. The boys wanted to pretend they were Santa Claus and we had to sit on their laps and tell them what we wanted for Christmas. They told us we had to ask for French kisses. I didn't know what a French kiss was but I was soon to find out. I'm not sure how long this Christmas extravaganza went on that day, but what I do know looking back on it, is that I remember not liking it at the time. I remember thinking it wasn't something I wanted to be doing. I remember feeling like it was something I wouldn't want to tell my parents because I thought I would get in trouble. I knew it was something I wanted to hide.

I know now that my parents wouldn't have punished me.

Now, as an adult, I am mad that Satan is such a freaking pervert! I am ticked that he lies to our hearts and minds to believe that something that is supposed to be beautiful should be hidden.

I love making out with my husband. I didn't love making out with boys in a fort in Mesa, Arizona. That's too grown up for an 8 year old. Heck, it's too grown up for some college kids I've met.

Anyway, I've never really thought of that fort experience as anything other than kids being stupid. I've never related it to anything in my life as far as habits or behaviors go, because I have a healthy and beautiful relationship with my husband. But, as I trace my steps, this all happened around the same time that I began eating secretively. And, looking back at relationships I had with guys in junior high and high school, I can see that I was secretive with my behaviors with them, hiding make out sessions from my parents, not communicating with them about things, looking back, I could have saved my heart from.

I forgive those boys. One of them died while I was in 3rd grade, about a half hour after we walked home from the bus together. If I didn't forgive them then, I have already at some point, I know that for sure. I don't think the make out session with the Santa's was the reason I started eating secretly. It may be one of the key ingredients, but either way, I'm grateful God brought it to my remembrance as I am retracing these steps so I can go there, forgive again if I have to, and walk away from it knowing that I'm not a bad or unworthy girl just because I played in a fort one day in 1980. And my body doesn't have to keep taking that abuse...