Confessions of a COE

Written by "Jean" for myfatspouse.com

The other day Shep and I started wrestling around on the bed in play. I'm a lot smaller than he is, but that doesn't really matter much - a wife can figure out all sorts of devious ways to give as good as she gets in such areas: I take advantage of my lower center of gravity, and I know all the most sensitive tickle spots.

Left breathless by our spirited play, we finally fell back on the bed, panting slightly and enjoying the sound of the Saturday afternoon rain on the window. After a bit, Shep pulled me close, kissed my forehead, and whispered in my ear, "This is the wife I dreamed of."

Less than a year ago, I was nearly as far from Shep's "dream wife" - from the woman he had thought he was marrying - as it was possible to get. At six feet one inch tall, Shep weighs 200 pounds; at five feet four inches tall, I outweighed him by eight pounds (that was my all-time high, and I pray earnestly for the strength to prevent that from ever happening again). In addition to this (as if that wasn't enough!), I was an emotional basket case, a nervous wreck, and a nagging shrew with a self-esteem that was right up there with pond scum. My health was poor, my energy-level was at "E," and I accomplished almost nothing outside work (and had trouble at work, as well). Why would an intelligent woman do this to herself, to her husband? Why would she behave in a manner that would threaten her marriage and her very life?

Hi. My name is Jean, and I am a compulsive eater. What is compulsive eating disorder, you ask? Compulsive eaters feel incapable of controlling how much or how often they eat. They may feel unable to stop eating, eat very fast, eat when they're not hungry, eat only when they're alone, or eat nearly non-stop throughout the day. Compulsive eaters often over-indulge in sugary or starchy foods and use them in an attempt to elevate their moods. When they don't eat the foods they crave, they often experience severe withdrawal symptoms (like headaches, shakiness, sugar "crashes," and more). It is an eating disorder that gets a lot less attention than bulimia or anorexia, but one which, I suspect, is a lot more prevalent in our society today.

Why do people become compulsive eaters? Well, there are a million reasons, and sometimes maybe even no reason at all. I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "It's not what you're eating; it's what's eating you." That can be part of it - bingeing can produce a "high" or "buzz" from the release of endorphins into the brain which becomes a coping mechanism for people dealing with stress, anxiety, or the aftermath of life with a dysfunctional family. It tends to run in families, but not always. It can be a physical addiction similar to nicotine addiction, where sugary and/or starchy foods produce a similar calming effect that requires ever-larger quantities of food to maintain. Either way, it is a progressive, destructive addiction, leading to many problems both physical and emotional.

Shep didn't know I was a compulsive eater when I married him. I'm ashamed to say that I kept it from him. In my defense, I can only offer that I had really only just figured it out myself, and I had hopes that I could control it on my own and keep it out of our life together. My poor eating habits had begun in childhood and my weight had yo-yoed up and down over the years. By the time I met Shep (at twenty-five), I began to realize something was not right about the way I viewed food. People without weight problems did not obsess about it the way I did. Normal people didn't lock themselves in their rooms with a book, and use a bag of chips or a box of cookies to escape life's problems. People often say, "Diets don't work." Well, that's not true: diets do work if you follow them and your goal is to lose weight. If, however, you are COE (compulsive overeater), they won't work to keep the weight off because you're only addressing part of the problem; what you need is a lifestyle change. To a COE, going on a diet alone would be like a person with bronchitis taking cough medicine, but no antibiotics - she's treating a symptom of the problem and not the problem itself.

Acceptance...

by Jean

How to tell if your spouse really accepts him or herself - and if he or she doesn't, how to bring the subject up.

I stepped on the scale yesterday and saw that I was sixty-nine pounds down – only twelve more to go to get to my goal weight!  Yahoo!  Hmm…how best to mark this achievement?  Well, there was one thing I needed to do that I’d been putting off: packing up those clothes that are now impossibly big for me and delivering them to the church donation bin. 

I admit that this is something I’ve been putting off, for a couple of reasons: first, I was scared.  What if I get fat again?  But this is a defeatist attitude that my COE support group encourages us to leave behind.  Do your damn-level-best to NEVER get fat again, to NEVER let food control your life again.  Let the clothes go!  The other reason has to do with my cheapskate nature.  Losing another twelve pounds will put me down another size, so I really don’t want to go out and buy new clothes until I’m where I should be.  I mean, what’s the point of getting new clothes now, if they’re only going to be too large in a few months?

As it turns out, though, I don’t have to.  I went through my closet and found a number of garments I’d been holding on to – enough outfits leftover from my “pre-fat” days to see me through to my goal.  Surveying the new pile on my bed, waiting to be washed, ironed, and put back into circulation, pleased me.  But it also made me realize something.

Frustrated spouses post on this site because they don’t get support elsewhere.  A common complaint seems to be that they are “flamed,” or attacked for their attitudes, and told that they should “accept your spouse as he/she is.”

Accepting people for who they are is a good thing to do, yes.  But does your spouse accept herself as she is?  If not, should you be expected to do so?

Your spouse may claim to accept herself as she is, but there is a way to see if she really means it – and if she doesn’t mean it, then you have a great opening for bringing up the issue: just look in her closet.

I’m serious.  Look in your spouse’s closet and check if there are outfits in there that you haven’t seen her wear in years…outfits she CAN’T wear anymore, because she’s “outgrown” them.  If there are, you then have the opening you seek: ask her whether or not she accepts herself the way she is, and if so, why is she holding onto those size ten jeans when she’s been wearing eighteens for at least a year?

I don’t about men, but that’s a hard thing for a woman to do.  My mother had a “two-year rule” – that is, if you haven’t worn the article of clothing in at least two years, chances are you never will again, so you might as well get rid of it.  Now there are exceptions to this rule, of course: timeless formal outfits that you don’t wear too often, but are good to have on hand for special occasions are one; seasonal clothing that weird weather hasn’t permitted you to wear is another. 

A year ago, my closet was populated with clothing I couldn’t get into: pants that about cut me in half if I tried to fasten them, blouses that strained the buttons across the bust, tops with short sleeves that cut into the meat of my upper arms.  But that timeless silk blouse went perfectly with that tweed skirt; those faded jeans were my favorites for hanging around the house on rainy days; that sweater was one I work on my first date with Shep; and he could hardly keep he hands off me when I work that tank top.  Not to mention all those beautiful things he got me last Christmas – he has great taste.

 More than that, though, getting rid of my “thin” clothes seemed like an admission of defeat.  To do so would have been like saying, “I will never lose the weight.  I will always be fat.  I am trapped in this obese, unhealthy body.  I will always be this out-of-control person that I have become.”

 Not a pleasant prospect.  So instead, I did what many fat women do: I put those clothes toward the back, vowing to get back into them “someday.”  Then I bought a few, cheap outfits that actually fit to “see me through” until “someday” happened.  I didn’t want to spend money on myself as I was, so I quit having my hair done, using that expensive perfume my mother gave me for my birthday, and neglected the state of my nails.  I think that’s probably how a lot of obese people begin to get into the habit of “letting themselves go” – it’s not that they’ve given up, but that they’re biding their time.