Tell one, tiny lie . . .

Before purchasing our home here in 2004, I went through a couple of life-changing experiences. My dad died in February of that year after a difficult 15 year battle as a stroke survivor. The other life-changing event was joining a weight loss program designed by alcoholics wanting to deal with their weight-gain after giving up the booze. The program was strict.  The food plan was never written down, but given to you by a "sponsor" after the first meeting. "No flour, no sugar and avoidance of all individual binge foods." "Three meals a day with nothing in-between." "A given meal could not be consumed until 4 hours had past since the last, and one must eat the next meal before 6 hours had past from the last." "Sugar free beverages were fine; coffee, tea--decaf only"--alcohol was never mentioned, of course! All meals had to be weighed and measured and "committed-to!" One "commits" their daily meals the night before by writing down precisely what they're going to consume the next day. My daily commitment might look like this:

Breakfast
1 oz. Oatmeal
8 oz. non-fat plain yoghurt
apple

Lunch
6 oz. beef
6 oz. spinach
pear

Dinner
6 oz. chicken
6 oz. broccoli
12 oz. salad w/two tbs. oil and vinegar

The next morning I had to call my sponsor at 5:45 and "give" my food to them by telling them precisely what I had committed to eat the night before. Then, after 30 minutes of "quiet-time," I could start my day. The goal was to remain abstinent and rack up the days. After 90 days of "abstinence" you were allowed to "speak" or "share" at a meeting; three meetings a week were required as part of being abstinent. If you broke your abstinence the 90 day count would start again!

I followed this plan to the letter. I called my sponsor daily, "gave" him my food, did my "quiet-time," ate nothing in-between, etcetera etcetera, and went from 217 lbs to 153 lbs in three months! Then, I spoke/shared at meetings and even "chaired" a few to share, "what I did then and what I do now."

Then, we bought a house in Ceriana. . .

My Sponsor allowed me to come to Italy if I was committed to following the food plan, writing down my meals the night before and calling him daily, which meant I had to call him at 2:45 p.m. so that he would receive the call at 5:45 a.m. and, therefore, I'd retain my abstinence! For meetings I had to promise to find where A.A. meetings were held in Italy and "try" to attend those in lieu of our "official" food meetings. I didn't "try" too hard and I was allowed to skip meetings if I promised to "do" more "quiet-time!" The day before we arrived in Ceriana I was at my lowest weight in my entire life--150!

. . . insane?   . . . a bit!

I got good at the practice of eating properly in an Italian restaurant. I would simply order from the secondi and contorni. . . grilled meats or fish. . . grilled or steamed veggies. I would ask for a second plate and take just what I estimated to be 6 oz. and leave the rest to "god," (sponsor-speak).  Occaisionally a waiter would ask, "no pasta, ne anche pane?" "Non oggi," ("not today") I'd say and that, usually, was that  I had my 1 oz. packets of oatmeal, dozens of them, to make breakfast a breeze and if I couldn't fine plain yoghurt I was allowed two eggs; fruit was always available. One day, during this trip, I was "given" additional food by my sponsor. I began adding 6 oz. of either rice or potato to my dinner! This worked well. . . it was easy to stay abstinent in Italy!

"no pasta, ne anche pane, ma riso, va bene?"

When "non oggi" no longer convinced the waiters I took a more drastic tact. I first learned to say, "sono allergico di farina" and when their response translated to "try some of this; there's only a small amount of flour in it," I moved quickly to, "sono intolerante di glutine!" Wow, that worked! You see, here, not eating pasta or bread is inconceivable, but if you have a medical diagnosis, then it's acceptable and respected. I arrived in Ceriana, gluten intolerant; I was now a celiaco! 

It, "the lie," started the night we signed the compromessa (the formal offer to buy a piece of property) and our new,dear friend, Elena, noticed my date of birth which happened to be that day! Rich and I, feeling quite pleased that Pino allowed us to buy his father's house, offered to treat everyone at the signing to dinner that night at La Posta da Beppe, and what should appear at the end of the meal . . . A birthday cake. . . for me!!! Dear, dear, sweet Elena. Not wanting to hurt her feelings and not wanting to break my abstinence, I had to say:  "grazie, lei e molto gentile, ma non posso mangiare questa bella torta, sono intolerant di glutine." I could see the disappointment on Elena's face, not because I didn't want to eat her cake, but because no one had told her I was celiaco! The evening ended well enough, Beppe brought me some fruit and the cake was gobbled up by those without health concerns! I kept my abstinence!

And so it began. The next time Rich and I ate at La Posta, Beppe, proud as a peacock, presented me with special gluten-free crackers to accompany my meal. When dining at En Tu Furnu, Dario prepared dinner rolls and a pizza base with gluten-free "flour!" Elena has, on several occaisions, made me my own version of bruschetta with rice cakes and focaccia with faro 'cause she'd heard that some "celiacs" could tolerate faro. Needless to say, I had no way out, nor the language skills to explain. I had, but to eat all of these things due of the love that went into their preparation. Now, I started "omitting the truth" from my sponsor by substituting these gluten-free items with my "allowed" starches. I broke my abstinence!

I had a "genuine" piece of focaccia at the train station on my way home that summer.

The lie still lives on here. La Posta has closed and Beppe works at a restaurant in San Remo--so I'm off the hook there. When dining  at En Tu Furnu, I'm no longer offered pasta or bread; Dario has given up trying to make bread with gluten-free flour--I finnaly admitted it was not good; so did he! I still don't have the heart, nor the language to tell Elena, but I must. . . someday.     I'm working up the nerve!

The weight's back up, but the insanity is waning. . . a bit!