Changing the view of food. No weight-loss magic here.

I’m going to shatter the universe with my opening blog statements today. Hold on to your britches folks, because it’s going to be a big’un.

There is no big secret to weight loss. There is no magic pill, powder, plant, food, or hobgoblin.

The answer is not sitting in some top secret lab, buried in the depths of some rainforest, or carved into the side of some obscure cliff face.

Despite what the marketing gurus promise, throwing out at you their stats from their studies, on their products… It’s just not so.

So why don’t we take a seat for a moment, shed a few tears, and I’ll give some sympathetic back pats and rubs.

Alright, now up we go, and lets get on with it.

If I had a penny for every time I have had someone ask me, or have overheard someone else being asked “What’s your secret?!” I’m quite sure I’d have my Lambo, and my family and I would be sitting with our butts in the sand on our private beach — on our private island.

The biggest thing, that somehow, everyone seems to forget is: genetics.

We can thank all of those in our families before us for the basic, essential build-up of our bodies. I wish I had bigger ta-tas, but hey, guess what? Not happening in my family full of smaller boobied ladies. That was a universal agreement amongst the genetic Gods before I was even born.

But, on the same vein, genetics can be a tricky, tricky thing. Take my sisters and I for example. We’re all created from the same pool. Yet, we’re all different. My older sister and I have blond hair, blue eyes; the younger sister is dark haired with hazel-ish colored eyes. We’re all built differently. I’m the smallest of the three.

So in reality, yes, genetics. Digging deeper, it’s all in how each gene is pulled and stuck together ultimately.

Then we have to add in: mindset.

Some of us will forever struggle with sticking with something. I call it commitment ADD. Others either have to give it their all, or nothing. So many things in our minds that can hitch us up, and lead to failure.

Stop calling them cheat meals. You’re not cheating. Stop using the term “allowance”, because you’re not a 10-year-old unloading the family dishwasher. And for the love of all things puppy, stop calling your food a reward. You’re not a dog.
Meals are meals. End of story. Snacks are snacks. End of that story.

I’m about to explode what’s left of the universe right now, and reveal my “secret”.  Which isn’t really a secret, but hey, a lot of people seem to think it is. The shocking deets on mine: it is how I look at food.

Food is fuel. It keeps my body happy, healthy and GOING. I fear death (don’t we all?), illness (again, don’t we all?), and all of the bad stuff the boogey man brings in the dark.

I don’t track my food. I never restrict myself, because restriction diets are bad news. They encourage disordered eating in more ways than one, and you’re not even realizing what’s going on until you’re deep in the throes of it. The only thing I do keep an eye on is my sodium, but that’s because per doctor’s orders, I’m on a 2500mg-a-day restricted sodium diet – for the rest of my life. And trust me, that’s not fun, at all.

95% of the food that is in my hands, on my fork, on my plate, is healthy. I eat my veggies. I love my fruit. I snack almost never on packaged, processed things. I can’t remember the last time I drank a soda, or a sugary juice. My meat is local, so I know where it’s come from and what they’ve done to Bessie before she came home with me.

Five-percent of the time? Well, you see the blog photo. That Italian chicken sandwich wpid-img_20150803_121819.jpghas been on my mind for two months now. I just haven’t gotten the chance to go grab it and put it in my belly. Last week, it was a root beer float from a local ice cream stand. A few days ago, it was chocolate chip cookies that had somehow escaped us heathens (my parents offspring, our significant others, and our offspring) the previous family dinner just days earlier.

And, because this is how I “practice” daily eating, I enjoy food at its fullest. I’ve also found, that by helping others change-up their view on food (it’s not evil, trust me; food is good for you, so stop treating it like terrorists on your plate!), they take on a much healthier view of it, and find success with eating – and dropping pounds at the same time.

Shocker, I know. You can lose weight AND eat at the same time!

Which brings me to moderation. It’s the mindset we all need to work to get at. It’s not easy. There will be times for some, when it’s really, really damn hard. But you can get there. I’ve seen some of my clients seem like they will never find even the start of that path, that are nailing moderation-365 daily now.

If you want to eat it: EAT IT. Really. If you really want it, take a few bites. Ten times out of 10, that’s all your body really wants. Just a couple of quick bites to send those pleasureful pulses through your brain.

If you’re craving it, give it a few days. If a week has passed, and I’m talking a full on seven 24-hour days here, and you still want that milkshake from Burger King? Go get it. Seriously. Stop depriving yourself. It won’t be the end of you or your weight loss journey. You won’t have suddenly fallen off the healthy bandwagon either.

Don’t you dare call it a treat. It’s just a milkshake.

Walk away from the infomercials, pills, tree bark and other stuff companies are pushing as the “cure all”. Change your approach to food. Change your relationship with food.

Your mind, body and heck, even your soul, will thank you for it.

Posted by

Mother. Photographer. Writer. Founder of Fit Fridays for Mental Health. Former powerlifter turned weightlifter. Coach & Nutritionist. Spondy/PCOS/Endo. Bully breed advocate.

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