Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
A great truth in life – and in health.
One of the biggest shifts I’ve made over the last few years is getting out of “the skinny mindset.” The unwritten rule that said: I am skinny, therefore I can eat this (decadent chocolate cake, stack of pancakes, oversize French pastry…) and there will be no consequences.
Looking back, I see where this broader societal understanding of weight and health played out in a very personal way in my family. My mother has struggled all her life with being overweight. Even as a child, I understood this to be a chief source of unhappiness and stress. I remember, during one diet fad, helping her add up her total calories for the day – they were limited to 900, plus 2 protein shakes. It was a mathematical exercise to me at the time, but for her it must have been intensely difficult and frustrating to maintain such a restrictive diet. Even more so because she routinely baked desserts for me and my dad, putting the temptation literally within arm’s reach. Unspoken was the assumption that her concerns about weight didn’t apply to me. I had inherited the “skinny genes” from my dad’s side of the family, therefore there was no need for me to forego dessert. In a way, her baking was a demonstration of love – she wanted me to enjoy, unhindered, the foods that pushed up her numbers on the scale, that made her feel guilty.
It’s amazing the power that your relationships have over your choices. The “skinny mindset” was reinforced in countless ways throughout my life–through family, friends, colleagues, even strangers on the street–because as a society we are steeped in the link between food and weight; we subscribe to the idea that an envied few can “eat whatever they want.”
And that is a false and dangerous assumption. Especially if society tells you you’re one of those few.
Pre-diabetes was a rude awakening from that pleasant delusion. By now, I’ve come around to being grateful for it, but it wasn’t easy in the beginning. The second step was educating everyone around me.
I’ll never forget the first time a senior manager at my office came around with homemade cookies his wife had baked – I’d managed to avoid such direct offers of food since my diagnosis, and people typically place special treats in our office kitchen, which I also avoid. But in an effort to be friendly and to show off his wife’s talents, he came around to each and every cubicle with the plate in hand. I hesitated a moment – should I just take one and throw it away? That seemed disrespectful and dishonest. I could say, “No thank you,” without further explanation, but that also seemed an insult to her lovingly baked treats and his wish to share them. I could say, “I’m watching my weight,” or “I’m on a diet,” but that too would be false and probably not very convincing – I am already thin, after all. So I took a deep breath and said, “Oh, they look delicious, but I’m going to decline – I have to watch my blood sugar levels.” He looked taken aback but immediately accepted my answer and moved on.
That moment was truly liberating – not just because it was honest, but because it was tearing down, just a little bit, the myth of the skinny mindset. It was saying, in effect, that there are other reasons besides concern about weight, or even an official medical diagnosis of diabetes, that a person might refuse a sugary treat. Anyone can deploy that reason. You are simply monitoring an indicator of your overall health, and that treat is going to sidetrack your efforts.
I worry about the mindset now with my girls. Even at a very young age, they have absorbed the idea that weight loss is a primary reason to engage in exercise and healthy eating. They understand that “mommy doesn’t eat sugar,” but it’s easy for them to draw the conclusion that it’s because I want to avoid gaining weight. I explain that I feel better when I don’t eat a lot of carbohydrates (even this is complicated, as we are still working with them on what is a carb, and the difference between healthy and unhealthy carbs), and that our bodies are healthier and work better when they get a balance of healthy foods. I try to help them be more aware of how food makes them feel — i.e. Did eating that doughnut at the swim meet help you swim faster or did it weigh you down? Did you feel better or swim faster the day you ate the egg-and-cheese sandwich instead? Lots of days it feels like an uphill battle, as the societal message of “it’s all about weight” relentlessly pushes back.
I’d much rather push the message that “it’s all about health.” That’s what really counts in the long run.