Coming 'Round Again

Frank Bruni's Born Round: The Secret History of a Full-Time Eater carried me out of my snot-filled head this weekend. It made me laugh and made me think. Bruni, the restaurant critic for the NY Times from 2004 to the time the book came out in August 2009, describes himself as a baby bulimic.

Frank--and I think I know him well enough now to use his first name--tells a story I know well. One in which every date, every job, every encounter with new or old friends is judged on the scale of whether you're thin enough to be seen. One in which hurts and boredom and loneliness are medicated with food. One in which "being good" starts tomorrow. And tomorrow. And tomorrow.

Bruni fought his way to thinness not long before he was offered the job as the Times' restaurant critic, and he and friends worried about how he would handle being a professional diner. He has managed, he says, by realizing that he's going to eat fabulous food every day. Recognizing that more is coming means he never needs to over-indulge in what's in front of him.

Friends, it may sound odd, but I think that may be the key to getting a handle on my weight. My over-eating is, among other things, born of scarcity thinking. Out to dinner with friends? I should treat myself now--who nows when I'll get this chance again. Mom makes a great dinner? Of course I can have seconds--I won't cook for myself for days. Tired and bored but still have hours more to work? Pizza would get me through this. Just this once. I won't ever do it again, but tonight, I really need it. 

A friend at my old publishing house used to say, "Food begets food." And so it does, when you're always eating too much for the "last time."

Over the last few days, I've eaten almost everything that truly appealed to me at the moment. Surprisingly, it hasn't been that much. Giving myself ongoing permission frees me to eat only a little. There will, after all, be more soon. 

Making room for more has helped me lose 3 pounds since last Friday. It has also let me get off the teeter/totter of never again/more, now, lots.

Thanks, Frank. By the way--I liked your book.