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Those of you who remember me 50 pounds heavier in my 20's know I've always had a slightly shaky relationship with food. Mostly sugar. My parents used to hide the treats from me. I said for years that I had a loop track going in my head saying, "Can we have a cookie? Is it time for a cookie now? What about now???" Incessantly. I spend a ton of my time thinking about what I'm going to put in my mouth next -- which is probably one reason art is such a joy to me, because it's the thing I'm most likely to lose myself in for a while and not think about food.
In my late 20's my dad was newly single and going on a ski trip/legal conference but didn't want to go alone. All of us in my family knew that I was never going to be a candidate for downhill, with its speed and athleticism, but Dad talked me into trying cross country. I knew I was going to be terrible at that, but I didn't want to also be embarrassed by my total lack of wind and stamina, so Dad and I started walking daily to get ready for the trip. As it turned out, I never could stay upright long enough for wind or stamina to be an issue. I did, however, find myself a happy winter occupation of going out snowshoeing with a sketchbook in my pocket.
By the time the trip had rolled around, I was already losing weight (slowly) and feeling physically better, so I kept up the walking and didn't actually diet (I hate going hungry), but I made some substitutions in my eating habits that felt sustainable long term. I lost the 50 pounds over a year and a half or so and managed to keep them off, finding a balance between eating what I enjoy and moving enough to offset it.
Then menopause hit, followed by long covid, which has meant an interruption to the daily 3 mile walks I did for decades, and it's been more of a struggle. I work at home right next to the kitchen and I'm a stress eater, so periodically I fall into putting more things into my mouth than I'm physically hungry for. When that happens, I do a day or two at a time of a food journal. The rule is that before I eat something, I have to draw it, so it makes me more mindful. It's also positive and satisfying activity, rather than a punitive measure.
In my late 20's my dad was newly single and going on a ski trip/legal conference but didn't want to go alone. All of us in my family knew that I was never going to be a candidate for downhill, with its speed and athleticism, but Dad talked me into trying cross country. I knew I was going to be terrible at that, but I didn't want to also be embarrassed by my total lack of wind and stamina, so Dad and I started walking daily to get ready for the trip. As it turned out, I never could stay upright long enough for wind or stamina to be an issue. I did, however, find myself a happy winter occupation of going out snowshoeing with a sketchbook in my pocket.
By the time the trip had rolled around, I was already losing weight (slowly) and feeling physically better, so I kept up the walking and didn't actually diet (I hate going hungry), but I made some substitutions in my eating habits that felt sustainable long term. I lost the 50 pounds over a year and a half or so and managed to keep them off, finding a balance between eating what I enjoy and moving enough to offset it.
Then menopause hit, followed by long covid, which has meant an interruption to the daily 3 mile walks I did for decades, and it's been more of a struggle. I work at home right next to the kitchen and I'm a stress eater, so periodically I fall into putting more things into my mouth than I'm physically hungry for. When that happens, I do a day or two at a time of a food journal. The rule is that before I eat something, I have to draw it, so it makes me more mindful. It's also positive and satisfying activity, rather than a punitive measure.
A lot of these pages are done with a pair of ink brush pens, one dark and one lighter in tone, but I also use these pages to play with different media than I normally use. I keep them pretty quick so meals don't get cold. Another upside is more mindfully enjoying my mixed pottery collection that I use for my daily meals. Above are a teapot from Sauk Mountain pottery in WA (and the memory of sharing it with a good friend), a bowl and teacup with a Julian of Norwich quote by Melissa Bridgman here at home.
I like the idea of markers, but usually I reach for watercolor instead when I'm out sketching, so a food journal page can be a good reset.
One time I was away from home (and away from my regular big sketchbook for this) and tried watercolor instead, but it was too much of an effort to keep up. The food journal can't be too big a mental barrier or I won't do it at all. But watercolor was fun for a day.
I have been kind of fascinated by the advent of GLP-1s and read a lot about them. I'm mostly holding steady where I want to be and don't like adding medicine I don't need, but it is HARD to lose weight the old way, and I'm so glad for my friends who have found the relief they need. It's also been such a comfort to me to read the experience of others and hear the term "food noise." I come from a family of people who legit forget to eat lunch (never have I ever), and I thought I was a freak outlier with my internal cookie loop track. It turns out there are a lot of people wired the way I am, and that has been such a joy to know. Which is probably one reason I'm stepping in here and writing a much more personal blog post than I usually do. Another reason is that I'm still working on the memoir and getting more used to the idea of sharing personal details. When I do take that leap, I find the sharing makes bridges and helps other people, the way that reading about food noise helped me.
I don't hold myself strictly to these food journal days. It's meant to be mindful rather than punitive. Sometimes unexpected things happen during the day, and I fizzle.
I don't hold myself strictly to these food journal days. It's meant to be mindful rather than punitive. Sometimes unexpected things happen during the day, and I fizzle.
Sometimes I fizzle super fast.
The flip side of all these food journal pages is a quantity of pages in my regular sketchbook celebrating treats. Yesterday was one of those days. I walked inside Crosstown (bad air lately with the smoke pollution) and felt called by the nearby cinnamon rolls at Lucy J's bakery afterwards. I've always loved Wayne Thiebaud's paintings of cakes and pies and all the good things. So often when I'm having something delicious, I like to enjoy the look of it by sketching it before eating it. I did a whole show one year, buying eclairs, Napoleons, and macarons in Paris and painting them before eating them. It spreads out and slows down the enjoyment for me. So here is a celebration of yesterday's deliciousness. I'm grateful to have found a moderation I can live with that has room for delight still built in.
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