This is the story of the day I realized the truth that I am not, and never will be, a normie.
It was fairly early in my time in these rooms. My church was having a potluck. My plan: half plate of salad, quarter plate of some sort of casserole, quarter plate of fruit, one dessert. (This was long before I put sugar down.)
It worked out pretty well. The fruit was on the dessert table, which I hadn’t expected, so I took three-quarters of a plate of salad. (God forbid that I should leave some of the plate empty!!!) At the dessert table, I took a small amount of fruit and one dessert. So far, pretty close to following my plan of eating. I did NOT eat beyond this amount of food. I didn’t go for seconds. I didn’t sneak food off of anyone else’s plate. The problem I ran into was not physical; it was mental and emotional.
A friend of mine (who is a little plump) sat beside me. On her plate were about three pieces of lettuce, a couple of mouthfuls of casserole, a piece of cheese and two olives. She played around with the lettuce until I was ready to stand up and scream, “Just eat it already!!!” She took one bite of the casserole, ate one olive and said, “I think I’ll leave the rest. I want to save room for dessert.”
Now THAT I could understand.
She came back from the dessert table with the thinnest piece of a 7-layer chocolate cake I had ever seen. (To be fair, I am an expert at cutting a cake into millimeter-wide slices, because, you know, if you eat a cake like that, the number of pieces you eat doesn’t count!) She took one small bite of the cake, pushed the plate away and said, “That’s too rich for me.” And stopped eating.
NEVER have those words crossed my lips. NEVER would I take ONE bite of a yummy cake and push it away. NEVER have I ever eaten like she did, and NEVER will I.
THAT is the moment that I truly, truly took Step 1, and realized there was NO HOPE that I had ever been or ever would be a normal eater. I remember saying to myself, “If that is how a Normie eats, I truly am not one of them!”
It’s been quite a journey since that day. I have been abstinent, have been in relapse and in denial, got abstinent again. Today, I am an abstinent, grateful, recovering COE, fully comfortable with the fact that being a normal eater is not in my cards. That’s ok, because I have found a way—thanks to the 12 Step Program—to live in acceptance of, and gratitude for, my disease. OA has brought me serenity and joy that no food ever could. I wish the same for you.
Hugs. Be well, Lainey
