I think we were transporting horses. I felt special to be up in the cab with my Dad, sitting next to him on the black vinyl bench seats. I looked up to the dash and spotted a pack of Lifesavers. He saw my intent three-year-old gaze and got one out for me. It had a bit of paper still stuck to it. I showed it to him. “It’s fine,” he said with a nod, and I put the delicious treat in my mouth. Sure enough, the paper came off as I sucked it.
I don’t remember anything bad from this time of my life. I loved my mum and dad, and all the people that would come to the house were nice to me. I loved my dog, and we had a heap of horses in the paddock next to the house my dad bred as a hobby.
I remember getting in trouble when I saw my dad’s sister get out of the shower and I called her fat. I was told in no uncertain terms that it’s not polite to call people that. I was a little confused about why. She was fat. It was later revealed to me how resentful my father was at his dad for being overweight their whole childhood. He probably didn’t like his sister being fat either.
A couple of years later, my dad was dead, my dog was dead, and we no longer lived on a farm. My mum, who I had all to myself, was now always busy. She had been 8 months pregnant when my dad was hit by a car and killed. I was looked after by a babysitter that hated me. I didn’t think much of her either. She was Lithuanian and had lived tough under the Soviets. She was in the military and would cook potatoes for the soldiers and have only the skins left to eat for her and the other women. She would eat a chicken bone and all. I thought she was weird.
I had nice grandparents, but I wasn’t given a great deal of attention there – surprise, surprise. I was, however, given a very safe and comfortable place to go after school and free access to the snacks cupboard. I would hang out in their back room – which had been my mum’s bedroom, and would watch Happy Days, Monkey Magic, and a few other less memorable kids’ shows. I felt so good watching Happy Days. I was propelled into a dimension of a happy family in a happy house where the Fonz lived upstairs all on his own, but got the benefits of the family, and most importantly was adored by all the girls.
In my backroom, safe and sound with a bottomless bowl full of crisps and a cup of lemonade, I became part of the Happy Days family. Sometimes I would stay at my grandparents for dinner and was always treated to ice cream and lollies afterward.
It was in primary school I noticed I was a bit chubby compared to the other kids. Not fat like James or Adam, but not slim like Phil, David, and Mark. The girls liked the slim boys. I wanted to be slim and knew food made you fat, but would never think about that correlation when eating. If I did, it was normally accompanied by the thought, “This one won’t hurt.”
I started stealing from my mum to buy lollies on the way to school. I remember minty leaf jubes and caramel chocolate mates. It was probably less about the food and more about the rebellion. I did the same with cigarettes.
High school came and I was able to slim out a bit with exercise and a conscious effort to not overeat. I also found drugs and alcohol so had something better than food too, but I still remember if I couldn’t sleep I would get up and make drinks of ice cream, chocolate biscuits, and milk. By this stage, I knew these were fattening – and I didn’t want to be fat, but could always justify it by saying, “It will be ok, this one won’t make me fat.”
I got clean in my 20s and ate more so exercised more. I relapsed and lost lots of weight while using narcotics and was able to eat whatever I wanted. I would binge eat Nutella on arrowroot biscuits washed down with full cream milk every night.
I got clean again at 25 and used exercise as a means of emotional management so weight wasn’t too much of an issue, but I did find how sensitive to sugar I was and how I could go on binges. I had a friend in recovery explain he was addicted to sugar and had to go total abstinence. I tried the same and went into quite a withdrawal. I persisted with my sugar abstinence, but would regularly relapse. The relapses were sort of fun. I had been good all week, surely I deserved a Magnum.
As typical of addiction, the abstinence periods became shorter and the cheat days became more the norm. I joined an OA online meeting, which in those days was typed chat only. I didn’t identify as an overeater, but I did identify as powerless over sugar. I would go on these sugar binges and eat the house out of sweets and then buy my daughter’s lollies off her that she had saved from birthday parties and Halloween, etc. I was able to give up sweets for almost a year, but now I reflect it was only abstinence. I didn’t do the steps and have a spiritual awakening around it.
A few years later I was at my heaviest and decided to eat less. I don’t know what the difference was this time compared to all the other times, but I really committed to it. I didn’t do OA or any drastic diet, I just counted calories and made an effort to eat less and especially fewer sweets, although I didn’t completely swear off them.
It wasn’t very hard at all and I went from 87kg to 77kg within a few months. In fact, it was so easy that I thought I could do it again any time I liked. A decade later I was back to 84kg and this time swore off sugar and committed to a daily exercise strength training regime. Three months later I was 77kg and almost had a six-pack.
While these stories of “success” felt like success, they were fleeting. When dieting, I thought about food, exercise, and body image constantly. I didn’t consider there might be another way – like freedom from overeating.
I met a girl and explained to her I would lose interest in her sexually if she got fat. We made a deal where she would stay under 50 and me under 80. We got married. She was 47 and I was 82. She said she really didn’t care. In fact, she admitted to me that she preferred me a bit chubby because other women would be less attracted to me, but wanted me healthy. I told her I liked her under 47 and didn’t care who looked at her.
Every time I would get to 83 or 84 I would go on a calorie-restricted diet. I also tried intermittent fasting. I would get back to 80 and then ease up on myself. I felt hungry so much of the time. I was either hungry or overeating. I would swear off sugar, but only last a few days. I wasn’t binging and was less sensitive to sugar than I had once been, I was just eating “a little bit” too much of it, and unable to restrict for any meaningful period of time.
We moved to Indonesia and settled down in our new home and the weight slowly but surely crept up on me. I was eating healthy and exercising, my body seemed toned enough and my wife still thought I looked healthy, but I was feeling it. I had to lose weight. I just didn’t want to put it back on again. What to do?
Red Pill Recovery 