Big Fruit

Let’s talk about the nitty-gritty of what it’s really like to live Happy, Thin, and Free™ in the world of Bright Line Eating™.

It may seem all rainbows and puppy dogs on the outside.

And, truth be told, that’s not a watercolored advertising landscape.

The reality *is* pretty great.

After all, we get to lose all our excess weight, which is pretty darn tremendous in and of itself.

But while we’re at it, we develop a feeling of empowerment and self-control around food, regain a spring in our step, sleep better, think more clearly, get taken off medications, have better sex, feel better in our bodies, feel better about ourselves in general…

I’m sure many reading this blog could increase the list ad infinitum.

But there’s more to the Bright Line Eating™ way of life than all that.

Way more.

On the inside there’s an important, and often quite challenging, layer of stuff churning beneath the surface.

That’s what I want to talk about today.

Not all the ways our relationship with food gets better, but all the ways our relationship with food remains unwell.

Because in my experience, in some ways, it does.

This underground reality lies hidden, even from us…until it’s not.

When it bubbles up to the level of conscious awareness and really reveals itself (a surfacing process that may actually take a while), we need to deal with it.

We need to deal with it swiftly, honestly, and bravely.

If we don’t, our whole program and everything we’ve worked so hard to achieve could be in jeopardy.

My “hidden layer of stuff” was uncovered exactly two weeks ago today, quite unceremoniously, by one of my Bright Line Eating™ clients, Roberta, who is now also one of my friends.

Roberta meant no harm.

And she caused no harm.

In fact, she helped me, because without her offhand remark my inner layer of muck probably would have stayed veiled to me for much longer.

Here’s what happened.

I was staying at her house.

That wasn’t the challenging part; that was the awesome part.

Turns out, Roberta lives in my dream house. A Frank Lloyd Wright-esque masterpiece wrapped high on a hill in California overlooking Happy Valley, with a babbling brook and a hot tub out on the point.

HEA—VEN.

She and her dear husband (and two sweet dogs) made me feel so welcome and cared for, and I relaxed so deeply the moment I set foot on their property, that I cancelled my plans for the week and just stayed.

I stayed and lay in the sun and soaked in the hot tub.

I stayed and slept each night without an alarm set for morning.

I stayed and didn’t even leave the property for days upon days.

I just padded around in my flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers while my tank slowly filled back up.

HEA—VEN.

So.

All was going well.

It was mid-morning.

I walked down the hallway and found Roberta in the kitchen. We started chit-chatting about I-don’t-remember-what.

She asked me if I wanted some hot water with lemon.

I agreed.

Whether I went out right then to the Meyer lemon tree and picked some lemons or whether they were already on the counter previously-picked, I don’t recall.

What I do recall is that, as I made a cup of hot water with lemon, I added some salt (I add salt to everything, for medical reasons, long story) and we started chatting about lunch. Roberta does Bright Line Eating™, so the food at her house was super easy. There was a scale on the countertop and delicious, plant-based Bright-Line-friendly food in the fridge, already prepared and ready for me to dish up. She was leaving the house for the day so she pointed out options in the fridge for me to consider.

She grabbed the Tabasco Chipotle Pepper Sauce, a condiment I’d told her I like, and set it out on the counter in case I wanted some with my lunch.

I commented that I doubted I’d want any for my lunch, but as I spoke, I grabbed it off the counter, took the cap off, and added a few drops to my lemon water.

I had made the lemon water too salty, and was thinking that the Chipotle flavor might mask the salt and salvage the concoction, thereby saving me from having to make a fresh cup.

As I focused on adding Tabasco Chipotle Pepper Sauce to my salty-lemony water in the middle of that dead-zone time gap between breakfast and lunch, Roberta looked and me and exclaimed:

“Don’t you dare binge at my house!”

I looked up, stunned.

“BINGE at your HOUSE? Of course I won’t!” I said.

Her suggestion struck me as being totally out of the realm of my possible universe.

I was nowhere near a binge.

But even though I laughed and chuckled and consoled and pooh-poohed, her comment sunk deep.

And it got me thinking.

What kind of behavior was I demonstrating that would make her think that was even a possibility?

Well, duh.

You’ve read this far, so you have at least some idea.

Making a hot beverage out of water, the juice of nearly a whole lemon, a bunch of salt, and some Tabasco sauce is…well…strange.

But that wasn’t all she’d observed.

When I first arrived at her house, I’d brought in a bag with a few apples—leftover fruit from my travels.

I pretty much always pack food with me when I travel, especially provisions for breakfast.

These were apples I had brought all the way from Rochester, New York, and they had survived two flights and a three-day conference to make it to Roberta’s house.

My stash had dwindled, but I still had three left.

And here’s the thing.

The apples were enormous.

They were so big that they prompted just about anyone and everyone to exclaim, “Look at those apples!” on contact.

The same way pretty much everyone used to say to me, “You want some coffee with that cream and sugar?”

So.

In the middle of my first full day at Roberta’s house, I brought an apple out to the kitchen to have with my lunch.

And, of course, she said, “Look at that apple!”

She giggled. We talked. She threw it on the scale, just because she was curious. She didn’t tell me what it weighed and I didn’t ask.

In the world of Bright Line Eating™, an apple is an apple.

Or…is it?

Aye, there’s the rub.

Yes, it’s true that, according to the Bright Line Eating™ Food Plan, the measurement for grab-fruit like apples, pears, oranges, or bananas is simply one piece, while the weight for berries, melon, or some other kind of fruit that isn’t a one-unit serving is six ounces.

So, technically, one apple is a serving, no matter how large.

But here’s the thing.

If I were ever to pick apples off someone’s tree and they were really super small, I would never have one tiny apple with my lunch. I would either have two apples (or three, if they were apricot-sized) or, more likely, I would cut them up and weigh six ounces.

More, I can handle.

Less, not so much.

Bananas, for instance, almost never come in at six ounces. Once they’re peeled, average-sized bananas weigh between three and four ounces, and really big bananas weigh about five ounces.

That’s why I figured out long ago that it’s best to always have six ounces of bananas and berries, never just one banana.

If all I’ve got are bananas, I’ll be ballsy and weigh six ounces of banana.

Even though it leaves an awkward leftover banana chunk on the counter with a tip-going-brown.

And it’s cumbersome and a tiny bit time consuming.

I claim that I’m all about efficiency in the kitchen, but the truth is that I’m only about efficiency if it doesn’t shortchange my food.

You see, the three most powerful sovereigns in the land of food addiction are:

SUGAR, FLOUR, and QUANTITIES.

In my world, sugar is King, quantities are Queen, and flour is the lonely Jack that lives in the guest house.

If the King is traveling in a faraway land for an extended period of time, the Jack marries the Queen and together they rule the kingdom.

Ancient history shows that I will definitely eat massive quantities of flour if I can’t have sugar.

That’s why, when people say they don’t have a problem with flour, I still encourage them to draw the Bright Line for flour anyway.

In the absence of sugar, odds are they’ll develop a problem with flour.

But in my world today, sugar and flour are no longer in the picture.

The King and Jack are both dead.

Have been for a long time.

The Bright Lines for sugar and flour killed them.

Took them out.

In fact, they’ve been dead for so long that no one in the kingdom fully remembers what it was like to live under their terrible rule.

By and large, the people feel free again.

The Queen, however, while definitely old and frail, still comes to the window sometimes to wave.

Her presence still holds power.

All that’s left of her is the ability to push around the happy, healthy people of the land…but she can still exert her will over them sometimes.

In other words, quantities don’t affect me anymore when it comes to the foods I no longer eat, but quantities can definitely be an issue with my Bright Line food if I’m not paying attention.

Now, 95% of the time I put my food on a digital food scale, so 95% of the time, the weak and withered Queen of Quantities is lying in bed feeling quite ill.

And I feel free.

Not a care in the world.

But once in a while she feels well enough to come out on the terrace and give some orders.

Like when I’m picking out fruit in the grocery store.

Or going to a restaurant.

Without my scale.

(I never bring my scale into a restaurant.)

The idea, when I go to a restaurant, is that I’m supposed to eyeball my portions and do an honest-to-goodness best-faith effort to assess what six ounces of fruit or four ounces of protein or six ounces of cooked vegetables would look like.

And that’s all I’m supposed to eat.

And, generally speaking, I do.

Kind of.

But here’s the thing.

Years ago, while weighing and measuring my food, I noticed something very strange.

Sometimes my six-point-oh ounces of cooked vegetables would look HUGE on the plate.

Voluminous.

Obscene even.

And sometimes my six-point-oh ounces of cooked vegetables would look TINY on the plate.

Not possible.

Unfair.

Same with all the categories of food—protein, salad, fruit, you name it.

Eventually, I started to see patterns.

Six ounces of steamed broccoli, especially steamed al-dente, takes up about two-thirds of a dinner-sized plate.

Heaping.

Enough to make someone say, “Look at all that broccoli!”

Six ounces of heavily-cooked stewed veggies, on the other hand, like a ratatouille, might look like only a little fist-full.

A regular-sized portion indeed.

Underwhelming.

Broccoli and juicy, stewed vegetables are definite cases of unusually big-looking and unusually small-looking veggies.

But it’s not always so easy to predict.

My scale often surprises me.

And that’s where, some years ago, this habit was borne in me of justifying my behavior in restaurants.

The thought process goes something like this.

Okay, the food has arrived.

Time to serve up your veggies.

There you go.

Now, look at the food, Susan. Really look at it.

Is that six ounces?

It looks like a lot.

But sometimes six ounces DOES look like a lot.

A WHOLE lot!

This could be six ounces.

You never know, sometimes it’s shocking how much food you get for six ounces.

I bet there’s some universe somewhere where this is six ounces.

Okay.

Stop right there.

Rewind.

Truth?

Or truthiness?

That is the question.

And the answer I usually prefer to settle on is that no one will ever know, because there wasn’t a scale there to weigh it.

But I know.

I know what my motives were.

My motives weren’t to have the right amount of food. My motives were to indulge in the largest amount of food that could possibly withstand the test of some justification.

Six-ounces-ish.

And, as I walk out of the restaurant feeling too-full, this instance gets added, unconsciously, to the toxic stew that churns under the surface.

For a while, I go back to life-as-usual. And still feel pretty darn Happy, Thin, and Free™.

All’s well.

But if I’ve been picking exclamation-point sized fruit and rationalizing rather than assessing my portions in restaurants, odds are there are other things I’m doing with my food too.

And then someone, like Roberta, says something.

Or I, within my own mind and soul, simply yearn for a higher level of freedom, honesty, and integrity.

And it all bubbles up to the surface and I have to get it out.

So I grab my journal and make a list.

I scribble my list of half-truths and shady deals out onto the page and look at it.

While I’m at it, I write about the shame.

Shame that keeps me from wanting to admit to anyone that I still do this.

Shame that keeps me from the Sunlight of the Spirit.

Shame that keeps me isolated, fearing the judgment of other Bright Line Eaters who might see me as not having a strong grasp on this Bright Line Eating™ thing after all.

The shame even has a voice.

It spoke to me yesterday.

I was on the phone with my Platinum Coaching Group.

These are nearly a dozen folks with whom I’ve been working for a while now, and we were doing our quarterly review.

During this period, which I affectionately call the Hone Zone, I invite each Platinum Group Member to step into the circle, (not a real circle; we’re on a group conference call on the phone) one at a time, to discuss her progress and the overall trajectory of her Bright Line Eating™ journey.

On our call yesterday, because of the special once-in-a-while-only nature of the Hone Zone, we modified our initial check-in round to be quite global, rather than specific to that moment and that day. The round of brief one-sentence sharing went like this: “Right now, in my Bright Line Eating™ journey in general, I am feeling _________, and my ‘win’ for the past three months is _________.”

Sometimes I chime in and fill in the blanks regarding my own life after everyone else has gone, and sometimes I don’t.

Yesterday I didn’t.

Except in my mind.

Right in my mind’s ear, clear as a lecturer stepping up to the microphone, my inner shame said, “Right now, in my Bright Line Eating™ journey in general, I am feeling fraudulent.”

I heard it.

It jacked me up.

The red flag was waving high and clear.

It had been waving since Roberta’s comment.

I didn’t ignore it.

I took action.

I reached out to my person.

My external accountability person.

Her name is Diane.

Within half a day I had tracked her down and I was speaking with her on the phone, hashing it all out.

Exposing it to the light.

Getting her feedback.

There was the big fruit, and the portions in restaurants.

But there were other things too, like the doctor-recommended licorice I was taking in tablet form, for brain-fog-due-to-stress, and chewing (rather than gulping down) every morning and evening.

There’s no sweetener in it, but it’s pretty darn sweet.

I totally look forward to it.

And the fact that lately I’ve taken to eating the rind of my oranges.

All of it.

Blah, blah, blah.

The list was long but finite.

Things fell into three categories:

  1. I’m doing this and I need to stop. I’m ready to stop. I’m done.

(The licorice fell into this category. Totally dangerous. The brain fog and stress are gone anyway.)

  1. I’m doing this but I don’t want to stop, and I’m not even sure I should stop. Maybe I just need to claim this right now as what I do, and let go of imagining judgment from others.

(The big fruit fell into this category. Who cares if I have big fruit? Maybe some Bright Line Eaters will stand in judgment of me, but so what? That’s their judgment, not mine. I have often been in the habit of choosing medium-sized fruit, I just don’t happen to be in that habit right now. Do I really care? At the moment, I’m not sure I do. But I can reevaluate this later if I want to. I know others pride themselves on the size of their fruit as if it bears an inverse relationship with the size of their virtue. I don’t have to let that bother me. I can keep my eyes on my own plate on this one and lighten up.)

  1. I’m doing this, but I don’t think I can stop.

(The restaurant portions fall into this category. I would love for Diane to wave a magic wand and make me willing to let go of the habit of justifying that extra amount and just start accepting my honest best eyeball-guess…but I’m afraid that’s beyond her pay grade. Pray about it, was the best she could offer. And maybe that’s pretty good.)

This conversation with Diane happened just this morning, and to my delight and relief she gave me no grief or judgment at all, just reassurance and love.

She’s a fellow food addict who has been doing Bright Line Eating™ for a long, long time.

She knows what it’s like to have a brain like mine.

And, since I’ve been doing this for a while myself, so do I.

What it’s like is that the Queen never dies.

There’s always some tyrant ruling the kingdom, no matter how frail and apparently near death she is.

Living in her kingdom takes courage.

Courage to initiate the process of inventory, admission, and freedom.

This process will happen over, and over, and over again.

It needs to.

It never ends.

The journey is not a straight line, it’s a spiral.

A spiral of deepening awareness and surrender.

After the purging, typically there are long stretches of freedom.

When the good and happy people of the kingdom join arms and stand up for themselves to the Queen, she retreats back to her bed, weakened by the encounter, and often she’ll stay there for quite a while.

It’s nice.

I feel reassured whenever I recruit my kindred to have that conversation.

It always goes well.

There is never the judgment that I fear.

And if you’re reading, dear Roberta, I had that conversation with Diane today, and I write this now, in service of the future in which I will never, EVER binge at your house.

With love,

Susan

 

Comments

  1. Ginger

    I thought you do not permit any sugar in your program. Chipotle Tabasco sauce contains sugar. At least that’s what the label says.

    Reply ·
    1. Susan Peirce Thompson, Ph.D.

      Ginger, good question! For salad dressings and condiments, so long as there’s no sugar in the first three ingredients it’s okay.

      Reply ·
  2. Eudora

    Thank you for this. It has helped me as I have also had trouble in the fruit category and I am owning up to it…and want to bring all conciously and put a truthful light on it for myself.

    I am right now re-affirming my commitment to myself and this God Send BLE way of life. Thank you for helping me…

    Eudora

    Reply ·
  3. Carol Henry

    Susan
    You’re so brave to be this vulnerable. I admire it greatly. I certainly don’t expect my respected mentors or leaders to be perfect, flawless, etc. thank you for sharing your heartfelt story.
    With love
    Carol Henry

    Reply ·
  4. Sue

    I love how BLE is never boring! There is always something new to learn when I’m ready to do so. When I grasp the nettle, admit my humanity, confess to my fellow Bright Liners and experience that oh so nourishing onrush of.support and clarity from folk I’ve not yet met.. And move on with new learning and a now light heart. I feel so blessed – and thanks Susan for this Quantity Challenge :). My saboteur is wearing a very sulky face… 😉

    Reply ·
  5. Susan Mast

    Susan, I came to a heady conclusion this week. All of this is so deep, I was stunned into near silence. Breathe, Breathe, Breathe….The this in my sentence is ALL that I intuit, already know, and the enormity is so great that I am taking a break from facing it, embracing it, discovering it’s nuances, traps, mysteries, discovering the more of me, the splinters, tears, limitations, falsehoods, and ultimately my truths. It only took size, two tablespoons with intention, however slight. Intention the truth hidden in plain sight.

    I have simply resumed.

    Sensitives can sometimes see too fast, too far, too deep, too soon. That seems to be the state I am in at this time. I will rest before climbing into the next looming stage of understandings. It feels like an entanglement of Mangrove roots, I need to navigate them and their apparent randomness, convolutions, and importance. I am on the edges, I see the enormity and want to slow it all down. When I investigate again, I’ll be going very slowly because I feel real fear of the crushing weight of what I see. I need to center myself before I can convert my fear into my next challenge. How far will this next stage go, how deep, how slippery, how windswept, in the end how rewarding? I don’t know. When I am ready, I’ll find out.

    I just know it is what it is and is waiting for me. It can wait.

    For now I am swimming in the small pool of “just resume”. For all the depth, just resume is so comforting. It is so basic, so true, so manageable.

    You have recently uncovered a truth, well hidden in plain sight. You are now ready, the weight you noticed creeping will dissolve. Go slowly, make this all your own, embrace your realizations, wrap yourself warmly in your intelligence, and great heart filled with so much love, cover yourself with the knowledge that the truth ALWAYS SETS YOU FREE. Make small significant changes and most of all “just resume”.

    Good fortune to you on your spiral journey, I will see you on a turn one day. We know each other. Susan

    Reply ·
  6. Nat Denkin

    Susan, I love how you tell it with no filters! I suspect there is a different mindset between weight loss and maintenance phases. The more restrictive menu for weight loss is coupled with the finite period to drop the extra pounds. You can gravitate to larger or more calorie dense servings, and the trade-off is a longer, but still finite, time until you are at your desired weight. With maintenance, within a few pounds we want to stay where we are pretty much forever, and “large apples” or “restaurant portions” insert choices that need to be made on the spot and not when willpower is strong. I have not faced a restaurant since starting BLE, but I do have a plan. I intend to takeout the portion of the meal not eaten in the restaurant and weigh it at home and journal the results and develop my own restaurant menu. In the end, I rely on my scale to keep my choices honest, but having a Roberta and Diane there for me would help a lot!

    Reply ·
  7. Pam Green

    Thank you for sharing on your struggles and how we as addicts can so easily justify wanting more…scary when the “more” starts to roll and build up momentum. Your honesty makes me want to have more honesty. Thank you!

    Reply ·
  8. Barbara Davies

    Woah, as you talked I was going, wait, I do that, wait, I do that. I haven’t been able to listen to any of the calls, but have been losing weight and feeling good about my progress….maybe too good. I was keeping the Queen in the throne room apparently. If I had tried to reject her edicts, she would’ve reared her ugly head I Wouldve ended up a royal subject and not even known it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

    Reply ·
  9. Diane Sontag

    The Queen never dies. Good to know. I can stop hoping. It is also good to know that we can be happy, healthy and free while the Queen hibernates. It really is up to us to determine the length of that hibernation. Long Sleep the Queen!

    Reply ·
  10. Roberta Joiner

    My dear Susan – I had no idea my joking about the apple and the hot lemonade would cause such deep reflection! I truly was not judging – simply observing, and, if truth be told, thinking “hmmm, maybe I will get myself some BIG apples too!” Haha! What’s funny is I had some smallish apples the last few days and was unwilling to simply eat them, but instead weighed them and got more that way. It must be the nature of the beast (the Queen) to have this behavior – push the limits as far as we can – and hope there are no repercussions.

    With regard to the binging statement, I truly felt some fear around this – not that you would actually do it, because I saw no indication of that (I honestly didn’t see the lemonade as binge material lol) but started thinking “what if?” Passing judgment on myself that how terrible would it be if I were responsible for our fearless leader binging after however many hundreds of days it’s been. I felt like I had a beautiful piece of art and didn’t want any harm to come to it. Or to be responsible for anything happening to it whilst it’s in my care. Of course, that’s really more about an exaggerated sense of responsibility on my part than it is a judgment of vulnerability on yours, I don’t make another person’s choices for them and of course it is their responsibility to make the right choices. Wow, I can see some potential work around this sense of exaggerated responsibility in my future. Thank you for leading me to it!

    I hope you will still come back and visit me again – I promise you I will not say anything about them apples again!

    Reply ·
  11. Lisa

    This post has opened a window and blew in a breeze of fresh air and honesty…. Recovery is a journey, not a destination. I see that even experienced “recovered” food addicts will always be pulled back to the dark habits that once controlled me. I’m on day 8. The sadness of saying good bye to my beloved sugar is starting to lift. But I was wondering if my love and need for sugar would ever sizzle away.
    Thank you for sharing the analogy of the King, Queen and Jack. This visualization will help me continue to push through each day.
    I appreciate the time you take to write your journey, and the courage to post it for us all to read. It’s because of you and the work you do, that I feel hope
    May today bring you peace, laughter, and ease

    Reply ·
  12. Shannon

    Susan,
    ‘Thank you. I really admire your ability to be so open. This is something I am working on, speaking my truth. I love this blog post as well. It is refreshing to know that you are not perfect. I love that you eat huge apples. I want you to know that I have a banana every single morning with my oatmeal. Since starting BLE, I only buy HUGE bananas now. I see nothing wrong with it. After all, It is ONE banana. I think of it as a gift from the banana gods. 🙂 Thank you for this and all that you do for me and everyone else on this journey. You are amazing.

    Reply ·
    1. Lynda Hahn

      I love this….”a gift from the banana gods”
      I do the same now, big bananas! The bigger the banana the more peel it has…that’s my theory, and I’m sticking to it!

      Reply ·
  13. Laura Thatcher

    Wonderful article…. love the boldness and your ability to speak so honestly. This reminds me of nature vs. nurture. Animalistic instincts such as these can never fully be rid of mentally. I struggle with this as well! If it’s any help, I find that organic fruit is almost always significantly smaller than regular fruit, so I try to buy them when I can afford it since it helps me with portion control. Sometimes it’s not eating a large fruit that’s the problem, it’s the progression of how one large fruit can turn into one huge apple with 2, then 3 heaping tablespoons of peanut butter with it. Another example of how your principle of never allowing any slack helps the body and mind make better decisions. Always using portion control may be more effective in the long run than only using it when you’re measuring at home, and measuring all fruit the same as opposed to some different than others. Just like you suggest completely cutting the cord to sugar and flour as opposed to only having it once and a while.

    Reply ·
  14. Christine

    Susan, I think I know of which large apples you speak. They were in season a few weeks ago, and they really cannot be described as large, but as HUGE! I want to thank you and your BLE program for helping me to acknowledge that I had an addiction to QUANTITIES. If you said I could have 4 oz. of chicken, I would eat a half of a chicken! The Queen has ruled my life for a long time. I switched to a WFPBD last year and it has set me free from deciding WHAT to eat but it was not helping me to determine HOW MUCH to eat. In fact, many of the online gurus recommend eating as much as you want. I truly believe BLE is the answer for me and I just have to work on it every day to stay in the lines. I am acknowledging that for me the journey will be a long one, but one filled with learning, practicing, and battling the King, the Queen, and the Jack. I just have to remember that, “To win the battle is to win the war!”

    Reply ·
    1. Jan

      Dearest, sweet, lovable, Susan, thank you for sharing so much of yourself with us. I too am an overeater, even more than a sugar or flour addict. In my house I try to have only the fruits I like – like the frozen dark cherries, almost perfect bananas, ripe red apples etc. I weigh all of my food to the ounce . I think I still fear not having enough – enough of anything. After all these years of therapy, groups, etc. there is still so much to learn. Bright Line Eating is the BEST program ever. Thank you so much for all that you do.

      Jan

      Reply ·
  15. Angela I.

    Love this.

    Reply ·
  16. Michelle

    This is what makes food addiction harder than other addictions. We have to limit the amounts of the substance to which we are addicted. Good to get sugar and flour out of the mix, but I know that other foods will still feed my addiction if I overeat them. I need rules like the one plate rule, to create bright lines around amounts. The danger alarms should go off when I am consuming something that doesn’t come with bright lines. For example, last night I ate a restaurant bright line meal, but my daughter didn’t finish what was on her plate–some mushrooms and veggies. They were absolutely delicious, precious, expensive and carefully prepared at a fancy, famous NYC vegan restaurant. How could I let them go to waste? They were not a lot of calories, they didn’t make me feel stuffed, and I paid a lot for them. Plus, I was feeling kind of entitled to extra veggies because my dish didn’t have a concentrated protein like beans included. But I was pushing the envelope, and I knew it. I appreciate the opportunity to reflect this morning on my choices last night. Thank you Susan for your raw, honest leadership.

    Reply ·
  17. Marianne Marsh

    I don’t think I can add much to the comments except to say something potentially funny. If I buy organic apples, there usually isn’t an issue with apples the size of meteors. But there’s always the issue…of…should I eat two? They’re so small. No matter what I do, that food addict voice still lives in my brain! I love my scale.

    Reply ·
  18. Margarita

    Aloha from the Big Island! Your ohana is just beautiful and Baby Ramone had me wrppead around his little finger. Take care of yourselves and enjoy every minute. They grow up fast! Mine is already almost as tall as me sniff sniff

    Reply ·
  19. Sharon Kopenski

    I love your analogy. Also the statement the Queen never dies. I know this was a very deep subject but I also had a good laugh. Your openness is so warm

    Reply ·
  20. Stacy

    I relate to this so hard. I recently came to terms with my fruit size/restaurant quantities issues. It was huge for me. I didn’t think I could feel freer on this program, and yet I do now that I have more integrity in those areas. And, if your Diane is the same Diane I know, she is an awesome, awesome human whose insight I greatly miss! Be well!

    Reply ·
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