10 months into living on WW2 rations, it’s been a rollercoaster, quite honestly it’s been a looong time.
Luckily for me, as I was unpacking some old boxes (yep, 3 years after moving in), I found an old shirt I bought several years ago. During that period of time my weight had spiralled up again, I may have been over 300 lbs again. All I know is I bought the shirt for wearing it to the office, it was the biggest size they did and it NEARLY fit (but not quite). I put it aside in the hope it would soon fit properly.
Somewhere between all the house moves since returning back to the UK in 2013 (there have been 4 moves) it got put in a box and stayed there. We’ve moved so often I rarely unpack all my boxes.
Finding the shirt brought forth a myriad of conflicting emotions, especially when I tried it on. Delight and relief that the shirt was now so big, but also recognition of the physical and emotional pain that I was going through during that time. Medicating oneself with food IS A THING, I know it, don’t tell me it isn’t. These actions aren’t about greed or gluttony. The food (especially the Ultra Processed Foods) were the drugs that quietened my mind, that made me calm down, that gave me that comforting hug, just as someone might reach for alcohol, or opiates or a joint.
For me, reaching out and eating vast quantities of “Ultra Processed Foods”, soon became an addiction and has been something I’ve struggled with for nearly 30 years. It waxes and it wanes, it never disappears but sometimes it takes a vacation. It always comes back home though.
Living for the past 10 months on a diet that is mostly whole foods, and very little Ultra Processed Foods has seen the addiction take an extended holiday. I feel happiness, the physical and mental pain is dissipating, I feel stronger and I want more from life that I did in January.
I’m REALLY going to make these final TWO MONTHS of the 1940s Experiment count!