Unexpected Motivation

 In 2008 and 2009, my life felt so much better. Don't misunderstand.  I was never a miserable person.  I have always believed myself to be a blessed person.  I've had the love of my friends and family.  I have wonderful memories.  I have grown up knowing the love of my precious Jesus.  Still, there was always that idea in my head that I was the fat, picky, chicken.  Some of those negative feelings were starting to go away. (Though I am still a big chicken!) I felt prettier. I was
getting more compliments and attention. Still, the picky thing was
always there reading it's ugly, embarrassing head. I wanted to change.
In 2009, I started trying more new foods. Just a few things, but I was
improving. In 2010 I made a resolution to try 2 new foods a month. I
started out kind of wimpy. I mostly tried things that I was pretty sure I
would like because they were made with things I already liked or had
eaten in the past. Then the biggest turning point to date happened. A
guy...a decidedly NOT picky-eating guy.

February 2, 2010, I started going to a new Bible Study group at the home of this guy from my church. I knew who he was, but I didn't really know him. My friend and I had been in a different group before, but the other members had moved away, and we were looking for something new.
This is not a blog about my relationship, so I won't go into detail about all of that, but by April this guy was calling me a lot and often inviting me to hang out. After a couple months, he shared with me his concerns about how picky I was. He didn't like the idea of me snubbing food in front of his two small boys show were expected to eat what was put in front of them. He was anything but a picky eater, and was afraid that my picky eating was going to cause problems for us.
*<---The guy in the picture is my boyfriend (though he was just my friend then) eating a hot dog that has been wrapped in bacon, covered in cheese, and shoved inside a Twinkie.  I'm still not sure I'm brave enough for that.  I'm not even sure I want to be.*
I thought about this for awhile. I don't think anyone should change who they are just to make someone else happy. However, if the change was already something you wanted for yourself, then I see no problem with letting that person help to motivate you to get going on it.
I decided that this was important to me. Whether I was with him or someone else someday, I knew my eating was going to be a problem. If I ever had children, I certainly would not want them to end up as picky as me. It was time together serious about changing.
I started trying foods that I was really afraid to try, and as I did, I began to find that I liked them. Suddenly I was adding rice and fish and broccoli (are you happy, Mr. Broccoli? Are you happy?) and Lima beans to my diet. Sometimes I had to try a thing 5 times before I liked it, but I was finding that most things were actually good once I got used to them.
I felt better about myself. It felt good when my bf or my parents said they were proud of me for eating something. Suddenly foods that used to gross me out, I now wanted all the time. On a trip to Washington State, I tried my first burrito. That opened up a whole new world for me. How could I have ever lived without Mexican food?
My whole world shifted. Eating out was so much more fun. Cooking became an adventure. I had a long way to go still, but the new found freedom was exhilarating.

Time For Change

Me on the Cruise in 2006

I think the first turning point came after our second family Christmas cruise in 2006. By this time, I was out of college, and back home with my family. I came home from the cruise and looked back at the trip pictures. I hated looking at the girl I was seeing. She weighed well over 200 lbs (I avoided scales then, so I am not sure how much over.) It was time to change. I knew that the large amounts of fried food and pizza I was eating was not ever going to get me to a healthy weight.  I wanted to be healthy and prettier.  I didn't feel good about myself.

January 2, 2007, I decided to change. I began to keep track of every calorie I consumed. At first, I just tried to eat fewer chicken fingers and pizza slices. At home, I cut out chips and started eating more fruit. I wasn't really changing what I ate, just the amounts. Eventually, though, I figured out that I could consume more food if it were healthier. I began ordering
grilled chicken breasts when I would go out. I found that it really was just as yummy as the the friend tenders I had been eating. I began experimenting with new ways of putting together foods I already liked. Hey, I like chicken and I like lettuce and some veggies, so maybe chicken in a salad would taste good!

It was a small step, but it felt good. I was changing. The weight was coming off. It was getting easier to find foods I liked at restaurants. I began to feel more "normal." In just over a year, I had lost around 80 lbs. Things were starting to look up!

Me, one year after the above pictures were taken.

The Picky College Girl

Me and two of my college friends having lunch after graduation at one of our favorite restaurant.  I can't even begin to tell you how many chicken fingers I ate at this place over the course of my 3 years there.

Being a picky child is one thing. Even at 10, 11, 12 most people will just roll their eyes and get you a pb&j. When you are a picky teenager, it begins to get harder. It is far more embarrassing to be different. Don't get me wrong, my friends were usually very understanding and kind about it, but it was still hard. Being 16 or 17 years old and ordering off the children's menu or taking a McDonald's bag into a Chinese restaurant is kind of humiliating.
The older I got, the worse it was. College was particularly difficult. I had been a heavy girl since my preteen years, but all the waffles I ate in the cafe because there was nothing else I liked only helped pack on the pounds. My friends got so tired of going to the same restaurants all the time. Never once would I agree to go somewhere like the Japanese steak house. How boring for them! I felt bad, but going to those kinds of places was just too scary for me.
One year, over Christmas break, my family went on a Caribbean cruise. All you could eat of the most amazing foods were offered each night, but what did I have? Chicken nuggets off the children's menu.
Every.
Freaking.
Night.

My cousins and I with our waiter.  After the first couple nights, he just left the children's menu at my seat every evening.  He knew I'd want the chicken nuggets.

And each day it was pizza for lunch. How boring! How much I must have missed out on! I comforted myself with the thought that I liked chicken. It was familiar and yummy. I knew how pathetic it was though.

Another Year Older and Another Bite Braver

I turned the big 3-0 yesterday.  My father and brother-in-law were both kind enough to remind me that I have now entered my 4th decade.  Gee, thanks guys.  Honestly though, so far I'm not bothered by it.  I'd rather be thankful for another year than lament getting older. 

For my birthday lunch, I decided I wanted to go to PF Chang's.  We had gone there for my boyfriend's birthday last year, and I'd really enjoyed it.  (Amazing, btw, since until that point, I wouldn't touch Chinese food.) My parents, sister, brother-in-law, nephew, nieces, boyfriend, and boyfriend's sons all came to lunch with me.  We ordered a few different things and then shared "family style."  In addition to my Sesame Chicken and Garlic Noodles (SOOOOOOOOO good!!!!) I tried out a few new things.  My sister wanted Chicken Lettuce Wraps.  I was nervous to try them since I knew there were diced mushrooms in the mix, but I braved it anyway.  They were really good!  I'm not taking mushrooms off my scared list because I still am not sure I could deal with them in other forms, but all mixed up in the meal, they didn't seem to bother me.  I also tried a piece of pepper steak (I'm not a big red meat fan aside from ground beef, but I keep trying to like it) and...gulp...fried calamari! Ok, if I'm being honest, I just barely tried the calamari.  I found the skinniest, most batter covered piece and had one bite of it.  It wasn't bad, but the idea that I was eating squid was creeping me out too much to take another bite.  Perhaps I'll try again some day.  I think I pushed myself enough for one day.  It was a good birthday, and I'm proud of myself for trying some scary new stuff.

~ Picky Chick

Mr. Broccoli

When I was about 10, I had this friend.  I spent a lot of time with her and her family.  My sister and I would stay over at their house, go out to eat with them, etc.  Well, my friend had a dad (we'll call him Mr. Broccoli).  Mr. Broccoli apparently decided that it was his mission in life to cure me of being a picky eater.

Now listen people, I teach preschool.  I spend everyday with the same kids.  Everyday I try to shape and mold those children with my influence in small ways.  I hope that some of it will produce something good in them one day (I am certain that some of it is negative.  I'm far from perfect).  However, the fact is this; every night those children go home to be with their parents.  Every night, 97% (this percentage was totally made up) of what I try to instill in them goes down the drain.  Every morning, they come back, for better or for worse, as the children that their parents are raising them to be.

Mr. Broccoli had little to no chance of success in this matter.  He had me at his home maybe once every few weeks.  My parents had allowed me to get out of eating what I didn't want to eat for about 8 years.  Oh sure, he forced me to eat something off the buffet at a Chinese restaurant once, (just some plain, fried chicken breast pieces...something I was already eating, but which scared me because it looked different) but there was no way that my whole life was going to change over this.  I recall that once he tried to make me eat a piece of broccoli at his house.  I downright refused.  I was crying over it, and he was insistent that I try it.  My parents happened to show up during the escapade, and I finagled my way out of tasting the broccoli.  Looking back, I suppose my parents were spoiling me.  They probably should have made me eat that broccoli or at least taste it.  But let's face facts, at that point there was zero chance I was going to like it.  I was predetermined to find it disgusting.

I remember another time when a friend's parent was seriously annoyed with me.  She had asked if I liked hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.  I'd said that I did.  Well, when she called us in for lunch, I discovered that the hot dog was actually cut up and put IN the mac and cheese.  I was horrified.  There was no way I was putting that in my mouth!  I'm sure she tried to force me to eat it.  I'm equally certain that I did not.  I really was a stubborn kid!  I have no idea why the idea of these two foods touching was so shocking to me, but I certainly remember that it was!

I tell you these stories because 20+ years later, I still remember them.  They were huge deals in my life.  That seems absurd.  Why should a piece of broccoli and some hot dogs in mac & cheese have had such an impact? But that's how it was.  Eating is emotional for me.  It always has been. My eating habits have controlled my life in so many ways.  They were controlling my life as a small child.  They controlled it as a teenager.  They controlled it in college and on into my adulthood.

Small Victories

Successes, even little ones, make me feel like I am going to eventually kick the picky chick in me to the curb. Saturday was my nieces' joint birthday party. My brother in law spent all afternoon smoking ribs and sausages for dinner. We also had burgers, hot dogs, and enough side dishes to feed an army.

Mid afternoon he pulled a few sausages out and cut them up for people to snack on. I am not entirely certain what kind of sausages these were, but I think they were similar to a brat. I have tried a brat once before. They have been one of those things that have always looked totally gross to me. The inside is so...pieced together and chunky looking. Scary stuff! Still I had sucked it up and tried a bite once already, and I hadn't hated it. It was time to try again. I only ate one little bite this time, but once again, I found it to be much better than I was expecting. I am counting calories, and knew that I needed to save up for dinner, so I didn't have more, but it is something I will keep trying until I can actually find it tasty instead of just OK.

At dinner, I decided on a burger. This may seem a safe choice for most people, but you should know that I have only been eating burgers for about 2 years. As a kid, I would pretty much only eat McDonald's burgers, and that was it. Now I love them. I love them piled with bacon, cheeses, peppers, pineapple, tomatoes, onions, etc. Steak 'n Shake has this chipotle burger...holy cow (pun intended)...sooooo good! Anyway, I fixed my burger, and got all my sides, and was all set to pretend the ribs did not exist. My bf and brother-in-law apparently had other ideas. I needed to try those ribs. I have this thing about bone-in meat. It grosses me out. The thought of picking around bones and other inedible body parts to get to my food is utterly disgusting to me. Also, I am not a fan of smoky BBQ sauces. My brother-in-law assured me though that his ribs would not taste too much like BBQ sauce, and my bf agreed to pull off a choice piece of meat for me. So, hesitantly, I gave it a try. Folks, I have to admit, I kind of liked it! Had I not been so full already, I might have had my bf pull off some more pieces for me.

This was not my first ribs experience, I must admit. Last summer a friend made some for my bf's son's birthday party. I tried a few bites of those as well, and I hadn't hated them either, but it takes me some time to work up to actually liking certain foods. Maybe someday I will be able to eat a rib without someone else pulling the meat off for me, but right now that is hard to imagine. Baby steps, friends. Baby steps.

Fear

If you are not a picky eater yourself, please try to understand something. We aren't picky because we are stubborn or trying to make your life difficult. I can't speak for all picky eaters, but I can tell you how it was for me. You know that irrational fear that you have? Think about it for a moment. Contemplate facing that thing head on. Think about letting that spider crawl all over you. Consider climbing up to the top of that mountain and looking down over the edge. Think about squeezing yourself into a tiny space and staying there all day.  That is how it felt for me.  If I looked at a sliced tomato, my mind never registered anything along the lines of "that would be so nice on a sandwich!"  Instead, I looked at it and saw something slimy and disgusting.  It didn't look edible.  Putting it into my mouth would have been almost as repulsive and frightening to me as biting into a fat slug.

Throughout my life, one of the scariest things to face was an invitation to someone's house for dinner. If it was someone who knew me well, it wasn't such a big deal..."Oh, Lauren is coming, we'll just order a pizza or make her a peanut butter sandwich,"  but even then I would feel guilty.  I knew I was depriving people of eating what they really wanted just to please me.  Still, the worst was visiting someone new.  First, there was the fear of offending them.  People have a tendency to feel very personally about the food they make, and I don't blame them for it. I hated the idea of hurting someone's feelings because I wouldn't eat their food.  But even if the person was really understanding about it, it was still awkward.  There were those who tried to encourage me to "just try it," and others who would try to find me something else to eat.  It didn't matter which way it went though.  In either case, it was uncomfortable.  I certainly wasn't looking to be the center of attention.  All I wanted to do was disappear into a hole somewhere.   

That's the thing about being a picky eater.  It's embarrassing.  It was never something I liked about myself (though I would fake-brag about being the pickiest person around).  It wasn't my desire to be picky.  I honestly didn't feel like I could do anything about it.  I wasn't in control of my life.  The selective eater inside me was calling all the shots.