Darn

It's not always easy to eat guilt free. I believe that my stomach makes choices that are good for me. For the most part, it steers me away from foods that make me sick and towards things that make me feel good. Since starting this "diet" (maybe way of life is more appropriate) I feel better than I have in the past and I have actually lost a little weight. I tend to eat a more balanced, albeit random, array of foods when I let my decisions be made without guilt. When I don't avoid a food I really want and then over do it with other foods as a reward. Plus, I get to eat what I want. I don't deprive myself and I eat really good food most of the time.

Well, despite all of this it really is NOT EASY to eat guilt free all of the time. Especially when you go to nutrition school. I mean, on Thursday we spent an entire class pinching each others fat.

Really? Do we need to do this? Really? My classmate/friend has to stick her finger into my belly button, reach over and pinch as much fat as her hand can handle. Really? You want me to hold a measuring tape to my nipple, then you reach towards my armpit and squeeze? For reals?! How is it that the thigh measurement, seemingly the most awkward is actually the least? Of seven measurements! And you think I'm going to show up to class in my sports bra and shorts? Come on!

You think this is accurate? You think that you can pinch my love handles and tell how much total body fat I have? You think your skinfold pinchers know more than I know about myself? Let's just say it like it is- fatfold pinchers. And why should I even care how much body fat I have? What if I just feel great for the first time in a long time?! Doesn't that count? DOESN'T IT??

Ok, reading this, it does sound awkward, but not really worth getting all up in arms about. I mean, I know that I may have to do this clients in the future, and so will my classmates. It was good practice. But at the same time it brought out in me my unhealthy relationship with food and my body. Even as our teacher was telling us that we get obsessed with numbers and that they are just an estimate I found myself getting obsessed with the numbers.

I recounted what I ate that morning, and why. I asked myself if I really needed that chocolate ice cream. I compared my body to the other bodies in my class and came up short. And wide. My friend and I jokingly (maybe) called the experience eating disorderific. As I spiraled back from whence I came I knew in my head that I am right. That I am making the right decisions for me. I know that I am not fat, that I am at a healthy weight for me and that I feel good about it. That I feel healthy and happy most of the time. And that eating without judgments of good and bad is working.

But I was shaken by this experience. I guess the good news is that fat grabbing parties are pretty rare and generally easy to avoid. And that the experience actually didn't change how I eat. And the following day, when I bit into a giant salami and gorgonzola cheese sandwich I knew that I was right. Even if fat accumulates in the space one to two centimeters below the inferior angle of my scapula.