So after two weeks of bending my
rules guidelines, I am back on the wagon. Mostly.
The Writer and I had a fun weekend with Sue, and we ate and ate…and my stomach staged a revolution. (Gross and TMI, but there it is.) Then I got back home and was just OK. Not great. it’s easier to continue to eat unhealthily than it is to get back to the
diet lifestyle change.
Then there was my Thanksgiving celebration, which was so much fun, but I also consumed a lot of food.
And then a vacation–an absolutely wonderful vacation–to a little place I’ll call “Paradise,” with The Writer.
We spent four days in the Caribbean and had an amazing time. The weather was perfect. The activities we chose were perfect. And the food…oh my god, the food. <drool> It was perfect.
We had an amazing tasting menu with wine pairings and oh-so-much good food from a former chef at Le Cirque. Macadamia nut ice cream? Heavenly! We stopped at street vendors. Cheese wrapped in fried pillows? Divine! We had local meals with amazing flavors and spices. Fried plantains? Delicious!
But we also walked and hiked and walked and kayaked and swam and walked. The scale wasn’t too happy–I am up about 1.5 pounds from before we left (and I was already up a pound from my amazing first-week weight loss), but I’m also bloated (stupid PMS) and exhausted and coming down with a cold. I am anticipating The Writer’s next business trip. And I miss Smiley so very much.
I’m trying not to beat myself up about yesterday, when we just bummed around the house and ordered pizza and generally did nothing. I’m trying to get back to my guidelines. I needed a pep talk from The Writer, but I eventually did get a salad for lunch today and, as tired as I am, I haven’t succumbed to my diet soda addiction. The fried food I had on our trip will be the last fried things I eat for a long time.
I can beat this. I can change.
On vacation, I was able to keep up with the group during the hike, but I really struggled to catch my breath a few times. We had a fire alarm in my building today, and I had to pause my conversation with a coworker as we walked up the stairs because I was too winded to continue talking. I don’t want to be that person.
I have come to think of myself as fat. I hate that. I see other people on the street and compare myself to them. I try to figure out if they are heavier than me. I can usually placate myself with, “Well, at least I’m not as big as she is!” And then a few months ago I caught a profile view of myself in a window and…oh. Ouch. I am fat.
I was very active in high school. I wasn’t quite as active in college, but I had to walk everywhere, so that helped keep my weight down. Then I started a desk job, and my weight has creeped up and up. The pregnancy didn’t help, but I was already overweight. Now I am in a place where I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. My mental image is shattered by the woman staring back at me, and I hate that. I don’t really like that woman.
That is another problem: I need to love myself. I want to love me as much as The Writer loves me. As I said before, I want to look at myself in the mirror and see what he sees.
The Writer’s pep talk helped today. He reminded me of our deal (he said he’ll buy me a dress from Anthropologie when I get to my goal!), and he reminded me that I am not the PMS. I am not the emotions. I am not my cravings. I am strong and I can change. If I succumb to emotional eating to try to make myself feel better, I’ll only feel worse afterward.
Every meal is a new chance to move forward. Sure, I had some chocolate this morning, but I was able to stick to two “fun size” bars, which works out to about 135 calories. Considering I used to have four or five of those at a sitting–sometimes twice a day–I’d say that’s a victory. I had a salad for lunch. I have taken the stairs all day. Each of those small things adds up.
I will beat this. I am more than my stomach. I am stronger than my appetite.