Praising the Support Group

Last night was my monthly meeting. I've only been to two, so it's a miracle that I went last night. Because I was pissy and tired and cranky and really really overworked (and quite possibly underpaid, however, that is an entirely separate subject not to be discussed here).

Anyhow, I book it over to 2nd ave to take a cab downtown. Walking the one block is so easy. I used to hate walking the avenue, "it takes so long, it's hot/cold, my feet hurt, I am carrying all this stuff". I've realized that I carry much less stuff with me these days. If it doesn't fit in my purse, it doesn't go. And my pockets stay empty. Metrocard and iPod aside, there is nothing in my pockets. Except for that something that belongs across my face...... I keep it very close at hand, in the most convenient place.....(c'mon Girl Scouts, sing out and sing proud).

I find a cab. I patiently wait for snarky overpaid New Yorkers to get out of the cab. 45 mins later (well really three) they get out and we head down. And I am praying. "Please God, grant me peace and wisdom. Do not let me shoot my mouth off because really right now I want to just absolutely die and take everyone with me. Actually I don't want to die as much as I just want to kill on sight and I need patience. So please grant me some friggin patience, and let me know that I am doing just fine."

I don't know what your God is like, but mine is slightly Italian, emotionally stingy and deaf. She/he understands that cussing while praying adds emphasis. It's the equivalent of a couple hail mary's and a glory be.

The support group is awesome. There are 7 folks there-- all of them over 45 years old-- most in their late 50's early 60's. All of them 3-8 years out. And after group we go to dinner. And we talk about our lives, and tell stories. And it's really a wonderful thing.

Not only am I the youngest one in there, I am the youngest by surgery date. I have all these mother hens that want to tell me what to do, and I just soak it all up.

I'm learning from these folks. Most have bounced up by about 20-50 pounds, some higher. They have war stories to tell. They go to TOPS and weight watchers and meetings at the twelve step. Some are still mad at husbands they divorced in the last millennium, and well, the 70's.

I am learning. I am learning to listen to the emotional part. To be present to food when I am eating it. To ask questions. To not think this is some fix. All of them are so kind and so generous-- one is all piss and vinegar (and very quietly, she's my favorite). She once threw a chicken at her husband because as she says "dinna wasn't on the table at da time he wanted it. So I threw the chicken at him and said 'There's ya fricken dinna!'. He nevah made dat mistake again."

I'm also watching. I am watching what to eat and how to eat. How they eat. I have to be okay with eating small portions that satisfy me. Not drinking with dinner. Not having a glass of wine. Not eating the bread. It's okay to want the dessert, and look through the menu. It's totally fine to want. Wanting is good. But understand the want.

The guy sitting next to me works for the power company. When he was sent to another area to work on the lights, the safety instructor asked three things of him.

1) What's your name? This gets you present to who you are. How often do you say your name to yourself? I rarely ever do. By saying your name, you get out of your head and into the physical world.
2) Where are you? This gets you present to where you are and in what moment. You have your surroundings and can identify your location.
3) Do you really want to do what you are about to do? This gets to present to your actions, and most specifically the action you are about to take.

He said he applies this to every area of his life. It's a good way to just remember who you are and what you are up against.

So last night I said:
My name is Big Girl Big City and I am in a restaurant in NYC with my weight loss support group and I do not want to have a piece of carrot cake.

And I didn't have carrot cake. Or tiramisu. Or a "bite". Because I was so present to what I am doing and about to do that it made no sense to turn the "want" into "have".

Thank you awesome awesome support group.