This is one that isn't so much about the food, but more about the kindness of strangers in a situation that wasn't so great. It happened about four years ago. I was traveling from Taipei to Ohio to see my family. My sister had told me that my father was going downhill and I should come back and see him before his mind was gone. At the time, my daughter was almost two and just this wee little curly haired kid. Well, we made it to the airport safely and were on the plane. I had "placed my bags in the overhead compartment" when within minutes the cries let out. My daughter started howling. I mean just really letting it all out. I had become that god-awful parent with the screaming kid that just doesn't shut up during the flight. I looked around with panic in my eyes as the passengers stared at me with that "Shut your kid up because we're not putting up with this for 13 hours" type of look in their eyes. When I couldn't get her to quiet down, my tears started to flow. Everything was coming out - my fear of what I was going to meet when I saw my dad, my frustration with a crying kid, and my life as it had been for the past few years. Everything! But, as my tears flowed a man stood up and asked the guy sitting next to me if he could switch seats. Of course the guy was more than happy to not have to sit next to a crying mother and child, so he obliged. Well, God has put saints on this earth and one sat next to me. This guy along with three of his friends are heroes to me and I know that my HP put them in my life on that flight. They were soybean farmers from Missouri (they totally looked like good ole boys in my stereotyping mind) and had just been in Taipei on business. During the flight they all took turns holding my daughter. This allowed me to eat my weighed and measured meals (two kinds of food -- on the advice of a sponsor -- that give one gas. Enough said) and avoid blood clots from going to my lungs. I spoke with them and even cried with them. One of the guys had lost his 16-year-old son in a car accident a few years back and it was still raw in his heart. These were real men. They were kind, giving, and incredible. I've tried to track them down to thank them, but I haven't had much luck. I was able to make it home abstinently with a couple of hours of rest and a mind that was not foggy because of the kindness of strangers.
I don't really have an embarrassing story with weighing and measuring. It's the life of eating and being caught before GS that was embarrassing. I guess I've never allowed myself to feel this way because I take pride in whipping out my scale. I guess having a don't give a F*&$ about what anyone things about my scale or what I do with my food is great. That may sound hard but I've always figured, these people wouldn't be there for me if I were having my leg cut off from diabetes or if I'm sticking my fingers down my throat trying to get the food out, so why should I let their feelings about my food matter?
This was after I had a miscarriage a few years ago. I was alone with my daughter that Friday when I went to the doctor and he didn't see a heartbeat. I was crushed as I'd been wanting another baby for some time. Knowing that this life was never to be just ate a part of my soul. I cried, called my husband, and proceeded to want to die. My husband was drunk and kept calling back to see if I was "telling the truth." Since my husband was at the beach with some friends and it would take time to get back, I had to have my neighbor across the hall watch C while I went to the doctor the next morning. I went, had the D&C and came home. My husband came home a while later drunk still and drinking. Through all of this, I committed my food and continued to weigh and measure my meals. I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to do anything but get in bed, but I couldn't. I ate, took care of my daughter, and moved on. I still feel pain around all of this because I have had a hard time letting go of the fact that I was alone through this experience. I do know that had I not weighed and measured it would have been even worse.
The most dangerous experience I've had was going out to eat at a nice restaurant and them not having enough vegetables for me. At the time I was flexing (so difficult) and having 24 ounces of cooked vegetables was a pain in the ass. So, I wiped them out and then had to throw my own stuff on top. Wasn't so much dangerous as an eye-opener that I don't like to flex. It might have it's good points, but having a mountain of vegetables isn't one of them.