Forget eating perfectly. Embrace your mistakes.

I love Bridget Jones's Diary. The narrator is so feisty, funny, and frank. She's endearingly imperfect with a strong dash of sass. The first chapter, January -- An Exceptionally Bad Start, simultaneously cracks me up and sends shivers of uncomfortable recognition down my spine. That list of hers, minus the alcohol, looks a lot like what I might have eaten regularly in the old days.

Fortunately, around the time I decided to kick binge eating, I had a realization that slowly changed my food journal from Jonesian to cheering. As it turns out, the main reason I had such a lack of restraint was my guiding principle. It was, Eat perfectly.

Perhaps you're familiar with this mantra. It involves dining on whatever you consider to be healthy, morning, noon and night, even when out with your friends, in the middle of winter, when you're starving, or plain sick and tired of the monotony of no-salt, no-butter, no-cheese, no-chocolate meals. And when you give in to the voice in your head whispering "Just have one (insert your forbidden food of choice)," which you invariably will when you're hungry, tired or bored enough, you say to yourself, "That's it. I've blown it. Now, I'm going to eat as much of the good stuff as I can, consequences be damned. I'll get back on track tomorrow."

In my case, when tomorrow came, I would wake up stuffed, mournful and ill-tempered. One lapse in self control would lead to at least another day's worth of unbalanced eating as I gave myself the gears for being such a glutton and moped about my expanding waistline. Sometimes, the episode would trigger weeks' worth of nutritional carnage, particularly when I thought about how little I wanted to go back to a lifetime's worth of bland and boring food.

So, what did I realize, and how can it help you? Just this. Eat perfectly is a terrible mantra. It's utterly unrealistic. No one eats perfectly all the time. No matter how good your eating habits, you are still going to make nutritional choices you wish you hadn't. It's natural, normal, and completely human. Since this is the case, why not accept it? Forget eating perfectly. Instead, aspire to eat well, and turn your nutritional mistakes into learning opportunities.

The next time you have a minor food fiasco, have a chat with yourself. What did you do that you wish you hadn't? Be calm and curious. Say to yourself, "That's interesting. I wonder why I made that choice." Then, think about the choice you wish you'd made instead. What could you do next time to act and eat in a way that will keep you healthy and happy?

Ah, happiness!

Bill Cunningham in action:)

One of the best possible things you can do for yourself anytime, anywhere, is to pay attention to what's going well in your life. The more you can see the blessings around you and the things you're doing well at, the better you'll feel. The better you feel, the more you'll enjoy life. The more you enjoy life, the easier it will be to make positive changes and (not incidentally:P) to kick binge eating disorder.

With that in mind, I thought I'd share some of the things I'm grateful for today:

• a neighbour made me a hot toddy because I have a sore throat;
• a dear friend got married!
• I ran into my dad on his way home from a party;
• my sister-in-law called me with a great idea for my twin brothers' birthdays;
• the sky was clear and blue, and the sun shone all day;
• the silhouettes of the trees and wild grasses in the setting sun, and the twinkling lights at dusk, took my breath away;
• Fran taught Sunday morning yoga and she's finally recovering from her neck injury;
• espace musique was playing great French holiday tunes; and
• a friend introduced me to style columnist Bill Cunningham. If you need a shot of happiness, watch one of his videos. He takes such delight in life, and has a wonderful, old voice with an accent that's to die for.

What about you? Did anything happen today that you're grateful for? Think back on it and enjoy it! If you'd like, share it here. I'd love to read about it.

Ground zero

It's funny. Each time I start this entry, I want to tell you about the thought patterns and habits you can use to beat binge eating disorder, and each time, I find myself writing about the day everything changed for me -- the day I decided I would get better. Rather than discard tens of versions of the story, I've written you the lightest account of it that I can, hoping that you'll find comfort and encouragement in its lines.

It was spring 2003. I was working on a Master's thesis in French language and literature. I was in over my head -- if I told you what I'd set out to do, you'd start laughing, and with good reason, at the sheer ridiculousness of the project -- and therefore not making much headway. My eating habits were appalling: I alternated between eating next to nothing for as long as I could, watching desperately for any sign of weight loss, and scarfing down more food than I care to remember.

I looked awful. I felt awful. And my once-shining academic star was fading. I didn't want to leave my apartment. I didn't want to run or bike or swim. I couldn't bear to buy new clothes. One day, the only pants I could find to wear were my once ginormous (though otherwise very nice) turquoise-and-plum plaid flannel pajama bottoms!

At night, I lay in bed and pinched the rolls of fat that encased me, willing them away. Somewhere underneath all that unwanted flesh was the athletic girl who'd swum an hour and a half a day and could run cross-country races without any training other than pool workouts and Sunday morning runs with Dad. How I missed her!

One night after a particularly cringe-worthy binge, I awoke bathed in sweat. I couldn't seem to cool off. My heart was racing. My insides felt like they were about to burst. It was the absolute worst I'd ever felt in body and mind, and I wondered whether I'd need to go to emergency. But I didn't want to. Anything but having to own up to what I'd been doing to turn myself into such a wreck. At that moment, I knew with absolute clarity that I would either die or change. And I didn't want to die. I had simultaneously hit rock bottom and found my ground zero.

Today, it's a sunny December Saturday in Vancouver. I'm writing to you from the other side of BED, a healthy, happy woman who spends hours in her kitchen and keeps ice cream in her fridge and chocolate in her pantry. This afternoon, my girlfriends and I are going to bake Christmas cookies, and I'm not even slightly worried about being left to my own devices with a small army of delicious cookies. I know they'll be safe.

If I can do it, then so can you. Be of good cheer.