As a third-grader on the PeeWee football field I was a hero. Often I was at or just above the weight limit. For one important game I walked around in my underwear spitting so that I could make weigh-in. I was not a bull in a china closet, I was a bull ready to carry the ball. “McElhenney left” and “McElhenney right” became the two non-passing plays.
And one game, after being coached by a Longhorn player I faked the handoff so good they ref blew the whistle when I was tackled. The pass was lofted for a touchdown, but it was called back, due to the misdirection of the ref and my stellar fake ball carry.
I was heavy. My mom was heavy. My mom taught us that food was how you dealt with the hard realities of life, or divorce, or depression. Nothing a bowl of chicken and dumplings wouldn’t fix.
The problem was, I would show up for a tennis match on a stomach full of pancakes and syrup. At around 40 minutes my system would bonk as the sugar plummeted. I thought something was wrong with me. It was just loading up on carbs and sugar was not a good “first meal of the day.” Like, ever. But my mom was a great cook. So we were all well fed. Three of four of her children struggle(d) with weight. I still do.
Something unlocked for me a few years ago. I learned how I used food and treats as balms for my loneliness, sadness, regret. A loss could always be counteracted by some ice cream.
It’s not a healthy way to live. Over time, I have learned that if I treat my body and blood sugar with a little more respect that I have a more consistent flow of energy. I don’t bonk as much. And when I do, I’m not freaked out. I go for some almonds. Or some juice if my energy drop is precipitous.
Another thing I learned on the football field about being fierce was related to my weight. On a kickoff team, I was told, “Just pick a guy out on the field and level him.” Today, that would be called “targeting.” When I was in middle school is was creating fear in the enemy. When I played football up East, where the young men were less motivated, I was known as the “Texan Wonder.” I occasionally played both defense and offense in a single game.
I’m just now learning to regulate my eating, my sleep, and my exercise. I get in 3 – 5 games of tennis per week. And if I take care of my eating and stacking habits I can have an occasional indulgence. But, for the most part, dessert is not a part of my meals. Even learning little hacks have helped a lot. Often a craving for me comes in a few varieties.
- salty snack
- chocolate
for several purposes
- energy
- sadness
- hunger
- celebration
The message is this: learn your inner demands and you can regulate your intake.
Much of life these days is trying to bring unconscious beliefs or habits into conscious consideration. Let’s take naps. For most of my second marriage napping was met with anger, condemnation, and frustration from my wife. “There are so many chores that need to be done. How can you fucking nap, right now?”
Easy.
I also learned that taking care of her disappointments was not my responsibility. I mean, for the marriage, I had to be flexible, but now I understand that her anger was a manipulation strategy. I’m not sure how conscious she was of this habit. She used anger a lot. With me, it was absorbable. For my kids, well, I think they’re still recovering from her bs. On going bs. Continuous bs.
I will give her a slight pass. It’s unconscious bs. She should know better. She should have more self-awareness and self-control. As it is, she’s running from any relationship with her inner emotions. I suppose there are too many devils in her backpack.
Pull the devils out of the dark. Examine them. Learn from them. You can’t defeat them. Perhaps you can befriend them.
I’ll lay out a few of mine.
- I want to be loved by everyone.
- I want to have ONE primary romantic relationship.
- When I experience success in my creative pursuits I begin to curve my life away from the day-to-day responsibilities of life.
I once had a tattoo idea for my left inside forearm. It was a black dragon outline over the top of a red dragon outline. My inspiration is also my challenge. This is a life lesson I work on every day. I want to be famous. I want to be fit and beautiful. I want to craft my aging into something resembling “the most interesting man in the world.”
I can see how this idea was planted in me by a painter and sculptor my mom befriended while she was buying his artwork. His name was Vincent and he was appeared to me like some kind of Greek God. He had started body building after his wife died. He began winning competitions at 60. His grey hair and tight beard all gave him a handsome and godlike appearance. Today, my house has four of his paintings comforting and encouraging me.
Art is great if you don’t let it crush your dreams.
I once had a dream of being a rock star. A movie star. Now, I suppose it’s famous author.
I have learned to disconnect my happiness from my fame. The act of creating a new song, story, or visual design is its own reward. A story well told is an act that lights me up. “Good job, McElhenney!” I say out loud.
It’s important to give your mind and your body positive messages when you have success. Like coaching yourself. I pat my love handles and their ever-diminishing effect on my profile. “Doing good,” I say.
Today, I would not classify myself as fat or heavy. But I am. I’m sure the AMA would say I’m obese. But, let’s think about that for a minute. That’s what the football weigh-ins said about me at 10 years old. “Too heavy.” And yet, that’s what gave me the power and energy to pound my way forward. To thrash other players. To get my own way.
I have enjoyed a weight advantage in my life. Until it was no longer an advantage. I imagined myself getting less muscular, less swole, and learning yoga and thai chi to become more flexible. More open. Less armored.
It’s been a long journey. There are still many roads ahead and many things to learn. What I am trying to remind myself of is this: I am perfect. Right now. Just as I am. The beautiful woman is not going to love me because I’m thin. That’s never going to happen. My ex-girlfriend did buy me skinny jeans once. They were the stretchy kind of jeans. They are actually to big for me today, even the stretchy ones. Good for me.
The unspoken messages still in my “catch and release” program are:
- eating for energy or mood
- eating for loneliness
- eating for boredom
- eating in sublimation for love or sex
And where I’m trying to go:
- eating healthier
- having simpler and healthier snacks
- identifying emotional eating and doing something else
This is not an advice book, I promise. But, it is a growth book. If I don’t evolve during the course of writing a book, then I’m not doing myself or my readers any favors. I’m not intentionally giving your dietary advice. I am exploring for myself, in words typed to a screen, the inner lessons I’m trying to understand about my childhood, my mom’s love, and my fucked up relationship to food and primarily sugar.
Here’s my latest lesson: if I crave chocolate, I need to eat bitter or semi-sweet. It satisfies the craving, yet doesn’t feed it. If I have a piece of milk chocolate. I want more and more and more. A lot of life is learning about proportions and serving size. That expensive low-calorie ice cream is 300 calories for an entire pint. Yeah, but Ben and Jerry’s is only 620, so eat a third of it. Who needs to eat an entire pint of ice cream? Then, you are feeding a different hunger. Once the craving has been satiated, the continuous shoveling of food or sweets is more about filling an emptiness.
I am not filling an emptiness. I might be craving the companionship of a woman. I know how to navigate those adventures. In fourteen years I’ve had five primary relationships. So, let’s say nine of those years have been “attached.” I also enjoyed my solo time.
That’s where I am now. Solo time.
How long I last in my moment of silence is unknown. I sure have enjoyed the return of all of my nights and weekends. Even my daughter’s doodle fills some of my contact needs. Therapeutic massage helps with that too. Learning to love my own body, is about health and happiness not size.
I’ve been heavy my entire life. I can embrace my inner Pee Wee football star. I embrace the peak performances in fifth (Burgermeister) and seventh grade (tennis). I am learning to embrace all of myself even the stuff I don’t want to admit. I’d tell you, but I’m not quit that secure, at the moment.
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