GOING ON THE UN-DIET

I know, I know, there is no such word as un-diet.  In fact, any nutritional regimen, whether to lose weight or to gain it, is referred to as a diet.  But since the term is usually associated with the excruciating deprivation of food, I will refer to my weight-gaining program as the un-diet.

One of the side effects of the kidney illness I suffered from 2006 to 2010 is a form of anorexia.  I had lost my desire for food and for eating.  Nothing, not even a no-holds-barred treat in any of my favorite restaurants, could motivate my palate.  Post-surgery, I had dropped to a mere 94 pounds (41 or so kilograms, if you are using the metric system), just 4 pounds away from my wedding day weight.  Next to taking the residual antibiotics from my hospital confinement, the second most resounding instruction I received from all my attending doctors is GAIN WEIGHT.

So, much to the envy of my sisters and friends, I went on an un-diet.  Unlike the starving diet-holics around me, I on the contrary had to binge on everything and anything that would tip the weighing scale in my favor.  I defied the norm of pinching calories, and instead indulged myself in gustatory experiences limited only by my imagination (chicharon Cebu and root beer float, steak with mashed potatoes, with lechon sisig for dessert).  And in the course of undertaking the un-diet program, I asked myself - in our culture and society today, why have we gotten so used to depriving ourselves of the delicious and satisfying?  When we say "guilty pleasure", have we actually convinced ourselves that feeling good is a bad thing?  In withholding our desire for food, have we accidentally put our minds, hearts and spirits on a diet as well?

1.  Carbo-loading.  Rice, bread, pasta.  Our bodies are designed to metabolize these carbohydrate-rich foods to generate energy for all of our bodily activities.  We can compare carbohydrates to the fuel (petrol to the British) that we fill up our vehicles with if we want to go places.  Similarly, without carbohydrates as fuel, our bodies cannot energize the physical and mental demands of life.  Without energy, we cease to live.  We cannot give if we do not take.  We cannot teach if we do not know.  We cannot share blessings if we are too ignorant, or too proud, to receive them.  Carbo-loading.  Fueling our minds and bodies with the nourishment that comes from food, supplements, exercise, family, friendships, books, movies, prayer - clusters of energy we can draw on everyday to live our lives with joy, enthusiasm and positive anticipation.

2.  Feeding on the fat - again, in the science of metabolism, our bodies first burn the carbohydrates for energy.  If this runs out, the body moves on to what's next in line - fat.  Low-carb or no-carb diets flourish on this principle - that a body devoid of carbohydrates will have no choice but to burn the stored fat.  FAT is the enemy, fat is the target, fat must go.  Going on the un-diet made me see and appreciate all the fat in my life.  People who know me are probably saying "You?  Fat?  Hello!?!  If you're fat, what do you call me?!?"  Hold on,  I'm not talking about body fat.  I'm talking about the excesses that I keep in storage, saving them for the so-called "special occasion" or "if we have important guests".  The expensive perfume that I will spray on only if I am going to a party.  The clothes that I bought to wear for attending seminars in posh hotels or meetings with VIP clients (some of these clothes I bought months ago are actually still in the paper bags they came in, promise!).  The Noritake dinnerware set that I received as a wedding gift close to 20 years ago - plates, cups and saucers that I have been saving for THE fine dining experience.  In the end, a lot of the perfume had evaporated or thickened to a gooey oily consistency which I think is what happens to perfumes that never leave their boxes.  Many of the clothes had gone out of style.  The Noritake? Sneezing from dust allergies as we speak.  All that fat to burn.  What am I waiting for?  Why did it take this long for me to understand that every single day that God allows us to spend with the people we love IS actually a special occasion?  That every client IS a Very Important Person(can I not count this client who was really rude to me last Saturday? Pleeease?)?  That every meal with family or with friends is a dining experience that is so FINE?  You know the other thing that diet books don't say about fat?  It's that fat warms our bodies and heals body parts that have been injured or are not well.  Warmth and healing.  How could I have allowed myself to miss out on these for so many years.  Fat is beautiful.

3.  Milking it.  The last fictional novel I read before being wheeled into surgery is a book entitled Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult.  The background of the story is an Amish community where every meal that is put on the table is grown or raised in the vast farmlands the Amish families call home.  And the first farm task of the day is always the milking of their cows.    This routine does not end until mama cow has no more milk to give, for that day anyway.  Milk.  It's also a verb, you know.  On-line Merriam Webster defines it as "drawing advantage from to an extreme degree".  Relishing every moment.  Squeezing all the good that every experience has to offer.  Watching movies till the closing credits are over.  Taking every chance I get to be with my parents, listening to their stories, even the ones I have heard for a godzillion times (Dad, remember this Filipino guy who died helping you during the Japanese time; Mom, how all the sweets in your family had to be divided by eight, because you had to share EVERYTHING with your 7 siblings - yup, those stories).  Having coffee with a friend who will soon be migrating to Manila.  Milking it.  So that in the end, I would have no regrets about missing opportunities to love.

4.  Sugar Rush.  This is what they call the sudden surge of energy that one gets when eating sweets.  The thing about the sugar rush, though, is that the energy boost is quick but short-lived, Soon after, there is a rapid energy meltdown and the hyperactivity metabolizes itself into lethargy.  Parents of young children avoid giving them sweets in the afternoon because they anticipate the insane rowdiness that will die down into an ill-timed nap.  They keep away the good thing because they see the bad thing just around the corner.  Sadly, I too avoid the sugar rush because I am so afraid that it is actually just a prelude to future disappointment.  Whenever a sweet thing comes into my life, I look past it and scan the horizon for the oncoming disaster.  I don't take the time to luxuriate in sweet moments, because I am already gearing up for the meltdown.  Surely, I tell myself, life cannot be sweet for very long; surely, the bitter aftertaste is just up ahead.  Looking back now, I get this sinking feeling in my heart about missing out on what could have been the sweetest minutes of my life.  But instead of dwelling on those times that are forever lost anyway, I will from now on keep a keen eye on all the candy-coated moments coming my way and just suck on that sugar.  I WILL bask in the exhilarating feeling of jumping into the pool with my clothes on, and NOT worry about the laundering nightmare afterwards.  I WILL buy knee-high boots and wear them with a summer dress, and NOT worry about the snide remarks that we live in a tropical country, blah blah blah.  It's called a "rush" because there is no time to waste.  Slowpokes get nothing.                                    

Today, I am back to my fighting weight of 110 pounds.  My teenage daughters have since inherited the tiny, tiny shirts and skinny, skinny jeans I had accumulated over my 4-year anorexic period.  And while savoring the un-diet program over the past 2 months, I have gained more than just pounds.  I have also learned one important allegory about life - it is a meal.  It can be as bland or as flavorful as we make it.  We can starve ourselves or indulge.  Eat up or go hungry.  The next one I'm having is on a Noritake dinner plate.

Note to self:  Ask my sister Jessette where to find a hot pair of knee-high boots.