As I'm approaching yet another failed weight loss goal date -- and as I realize that I don't think I've ever really met a weight loss goal date -- I recognize that I'm doing this all wrong.
I made a goal in January that I would fit into a particular pair of jeans by June 1. Today is May 31, and I don't fit into those jeans. I mean, I'm an 18 and the jeans are 16, so it's not terrible. No, it is terrible when I say it like that because that means I had six months to drop ONE SIZE and I failed.
Ugh.
I know conventional advice is make a long-term goal, then make a few short-term goals and reward yourself along the way, reevaluate at the halfway point, etc., etc.
That just doesn't work for me. I think that every time I've made a goal to lose X pounds or be a certain size by a certain date, I don't accomplish it. I need to figure out why that is. I know I'm one of the world's greatest rationalizers, so I'll inevitably make excuses for why I can eat a certain treat or slack off on a workout - because I have time before the goal date so I can make up for it by being "extra good" tomorrow or doing a double workout the next day (for the record, I've never done a double workout in my entire life).
In addition, I think I'm way too focused on appearance -- what's jiggling, what's flat, what's bulging, how do I look in this outfit. If I'm going to an event of some type and I feel fat, that peppers the entire event for me and every interaction at the event. I walk in, self-conscious that everyone is noticing how fat I look, including people who've never met me. I talk to someone, and I'm sure he/she is focused on the flab on my arms. I eat something, and I'm certain that everyone around me is critiquing what's on my plate.
First of all, how vain is that? Gag. I need to get a grip and realize that I'm not being noticed anywhere near as often or as much as I think (or worry) I am. Sure, there may be people who look at me and think briefly that I'm overweight, but it's the truth, so ... what?
Second of all, by keeping my focus inward, I'm totally missing out on the enjoyment of the event, the people I'm seeing, the fun of the day.
I need to drop the whole goal date thing and simply get through one day at a time, maybe even one meal at a time. One thing I remember from OA is the principle that I can do anything for 24 hours that would seem impossible to maintain over a long period of time.
No more diets, no more calorie or carb counting, no more obsessive weighing in. I'm not a label in a pair of jeans or a number on a scale. I'm looking forward to simply having a healthy relationship with food and relying on God's strength each day.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Things that make you go, "Hmmm."
Re: Title - I know that can be a tired cliche, but it works for this post.
I came across a couple things in some chick lit I've been listening to lately that made me stop and think for a minute. (I may even have actually went "Hmmm.")
(Yes, I listen to books instead of reading. I'm finishing up my own manuscript, and whenever I sit down to read a book, I feel guilty that I'm not using that time to write a book. Plus, by using audioboooks, I get to enjoy novels at times when reading wouldn't be possible, e.g., driving to/from work, doing dishes, cooking, cleaning the house, folding laundry. It makes these things more tolerable.)
Anyway, one novel (Secrets of a Shoe Addict by Beth Harbison) has a character who is an emotional eater. She recently gained back some weight she had lost the year before using Weight Watchers, and was lamenting the gain along with the fact that she was tired of being single.
As she thinks about the dating scene, she knows that first impressions are so important, and she makes the statement that being overweight gives the "impression of a lack of self-care."
That struck me. Is that really the impression I want to give? A lack of self-care?
Another novel (Second Chances by Jane Green) features a character who is a recovering alcoholic. She's active in AA, and mentions one of the premises of AA being that members acknowledge that they are powerless in and of themselves to overcome their addiction so they rely on the strength of a higher power to get them through each day.
Though I'm not an alcoholic, this section resonated with me because a long, long time ago, I used to attend OA (Overeaters Anonymous) meetings. I remember admitting that I was powerless over food and that I needed to rely on my higher power (God) to get me through each day. Why have I forgotten that? Why am I jumping from diet to diet, from diet book to diet website, even going so far in my desperation to read through an entire ad for some crazy weight loss drug and actually consider ordering it?
Philippians 4:13
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. (New King James Version)
That is more like a "thing that makes you want to thump yourself on the forehead and go, 'Am I an idiot?'"
Another thing that caught me by surprise didn't come from a book, but through a game of soccer with my son. We went to a park on Sunday afternoon, and he had a soccer with him. He asked me to play, and I declined. After watching him for a few minutes, I felt bad that he was off playing alone and I was just being a lazy bum, so I played for a bit. And get this ... I actually RAN. Yep, I ran, sometimes quickly to try and catch up with him, sometimes at a more leisurely pace, but run I did.
And I survived.
And here's the real kicker: I actually enjoyed it.
There was one moment when my son was running off to get a ball that was out of bounds, and while I was waiting for him, I noticed a burning in my chest that I remembered getting back in high school when I used to run and was rather fit. It wasn't completely uncomfortable, and it made me realize that I baby myself way too much when it comes to exercise. I tell myself I can't run on my treadmill because I'm too fat, so I engage in a more leisurely walk instead. I tell myself I can't take the four-mile walking route because it'll be too much for me - after all, I'm fat and out of shape - so I do the two-mile route instead. I tell myself I can't add another level to my step aerobic bench because I'm too out of shape, it'll be too hard.
But shouldn't exercising for the sake of losing weight BE kind of hard?
Big, significant "hmmms."
I came across a couple things in some chick lit I've been listening to lately that made me stop and think for a minute. (I may even have actually went "Hmmm.")
(Yes, I listen to books instead of reading. I'm finishing up my own manuscript, and whenever I sit down to read a book, I feel guilty that I'm not using that time to write a book. Plus, by using audioboooks, I get to enjoy novels at times when reading wouldn't be possible, e.g., driving to/from work, doing dishes, cooking, cleaning the house, folding laundry. It makes these things more tolerable.)
Anyway, one novel (Secrets of a Shoe Addict by Beth Harbison) has a character who is an emotional eater. She recently gained back some weight she had lost the year before using Weight Watchers, and was lamenting the gain along with the fact that she was tired of being single.
As she thinks about the dating scene, she knows that first impressions are so important, and she makes the statement that being overweight gives the "impression of a lack of self-care."
That struck me. Is that really the impression I want to give? A lack of self-care?
Another novel (Second Chances by Jane Green) features a character who is a recovering alcoholic. She's active in AA, and mentions one of the premises of AA being that members acknowledge that they are powerless in and of themselves to overcome their addiction so they rely on the strength of a higher power to get them through each day.
Though I'm not an alcoholic, this section resonated with me because a long, long time ago, I used to attend OA (Overeaters Anonymous) meetings. I remember admitting that I was powerless over food and that I needed to rely on my higher power (God) to get me through each day. Why have I forgotten that? Why am I jumping from diet to diet, from diet book to diet website, even going so far in my desperation to read through an entire ad for some crazy weight loss drug and actually consider ordering it?
Philippians 4:13
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. (New King James Version)
That is more like a "thing that makes you want to thump yourself on the forehead and go, 'Am I an idiot?'"
Another thing that caught me by surprise didn't come from a book, but through a game of soccer with my son. We went to a park on Sunday afternoon, and he had a soccer with him. He asked me to play, and I declined. After watching him for a few minutes, I felt bad that he was off playing alone and I was just being a lazy bum, so I played for a bit. And get this ... I actually RAN. Yep, I ran, sometimes quickly to try and catch up with him, sometimes at a more leisurely pace, but run I did.
And I survived.
And here's the real kicker: I actually enjoyed it.
There was one moment when my son was running off to get a ball that was out of bounds, and while I was waiting for him, I noticed a burning in my chest that I remembered getting back in high school when I used to run and was rather fit. It wasn't completely uncomfortable, and it made me realize that I baby myself way too much when it comes to exercise. I tell myself I can't run on my treadmill because I'm too fat, so I engage in a more leisurely walk instead. I tell myself I can't take the four-mile walking route because it'll be too much for me - after all, I'm fat and out of shape - so I do the two-mile route instead. I tell myself I can't add another level to my step aerobic bench because I'm too out of shape, it'll be too hard.
But shouldn't exercising for the sake of losing weight BE kind of hard?
Big, significant "hmmms."
Sunday, May 22, 2011
"I'm not hungry."
Well, I did get to use the "I'm not hungry" line, although it was only to myself.
I was heading to work after my previously post-poned doctor's appointment, which ended up going okay. Although I had lost and regained weight between the yearly appointments, it actually appeared that I had stayed the same. My doctor must think I'm completely pitiful when it comes to controlling my eating and losing weight and exercising. As I was talking about my seemingly life-long struggle with food, I felt my voice crack and hoped that he didn't notice.
Some advice he offered (keep in mind that my doctor is young and very fit) that he stated works for him is planning on running in a particular marathon, which forces him to train. A marathon? Me? Is he nuts?
I've noticed that when I plan a goal for some future time, like wanting to fit in a bridesmaid dress by my friend's wedding date (I ended up having to have the dress let out), or wearing a certain size jeans by June 1 (which was a goal I made this past January), or whatever, I hardly EVER achieve the goal. I don't know what it is, I just end up sabotaging myself or rationalizing that "I have time, I can eat this." and I fail almost every time. What is that about? I can always visualize myself meeting the goal ... maybe part of the problem is that I put too many expectations on losing weight. Like, not only will I simply fit into my jeans or the bridesmaid dress, but I'll be successful and rich and surrounded by friends and admirers, have that beautiful kitchen I've always wanted ... so on.
Anyway, totally off the "I'm not hungry" subject.
I'm driving to work after the "not as humiliating as I thought it would be" appointment and I see a McDonald's in the distance.
"Mmm, I think I'll stop and get a double cheeseburger and small fries," I think to myself.
The gluttony, super-fat, rationalizing part of my brain says, "No ... get a Quarter Pounder with cheese meal. Yum!"
After considering it briefly ... "No," I reply. "Money's tight until payday. I'd rather spend $2 than $6."
"Okay ... a double cheeseburger and fries will still be good."
Suddenly, I realize ... I'M NOT HUNGRY.
"On second thought," I say, "I'm not even hungry."
"So?" Glutton brain says. "That's hardly ever stopped you before. It'll be tasty ..." it taunts.
"Yeah, it will be tasty," I acknowledge. Then I come to my senses. "But I'm really not hungry."
Glutton-brain panics. "Yeah. Well ..." Thinking fast, it rationalizes, "But you'll be hungry later and you won't be able to go out then. Might as well eat now to head it off later."
"Isn't that a little dumb to eat NOW because I might be hungry LATER?" I say. "Besides, I've been trying to prove to myself for days that hunger won't kill me. If I get hungry later, I'll be fine."
Glutton-brain notices that the McD's is coming up quickly. "But, but ... McD fries are SO good!", it whines, and attempts to send signals to my hands and arms to put the turn signal on and get into the center turning lane. My hands twitch on the steering wheel, but I'm able to thwart the signal and get into the far right lane as we zoom by the restaurant.
"#*&@#!" Glutton-brain mumbles.
I was pretty proud of myself for really listening to my body. And I was fine throughout the afternoon.
I was heading to work after my previously post-poned doctor's appointment, which ended up going okay. Although I had lost and regained weight between the yearly appointments, it actually appeared that I had stayed the same. My doctor must think I'm completely pitiful when it comes to controlling my eating and losing weight and exercising. As I was talking about my seemingly life-long struggle with food, I felt my voice crack and hoped that he didn't notice.
Some advice he offered (keep in mind that my doctor is young and very fit) that he stated works for him is planning on running in a particular marathon, which forces him to train. A marathon? Me? Is he nuts?
I've noticed that when I plan a goal for some future time, like wanting to fit in a bridesmaid dress by my friend's wedding date (I ended up having to have the dress let out), or wearing a certain size jeans by June 1 (which was a goal I made this past January), or whatever, I hardly EVER achieve the goal. I don't know what it is, I just end up sabotaging myself or rationalizing that "I have time, I can eat this." and I fail almost every time. What is that about? I can always visualize myself meeting the goal ... maybe part of the problem is that I put too many expectations on losing weight. Like, not only will I simply fit into my jeans or the bridesmaid dress, but I'll be successful and rich and surrounded by friends and admirers, have that beautiful kitchen I've always wanted ... so on.
Anyway, totally off the "I'm not hungry" subject.
I'm driving to work after the "not as humiliating as I thought it would be" appointment and I see a McDonald's in the distance.
"Mmm, I think I'll stop and get a double cheeseburger and small fries," I think to myself.
The gluttony, super-fat, rationalizing part of my brain says, "No ... get a Quarter Pounder with cheese meal. Yum!"
After considering it briefly ... "No," I reply. "Money's tight until payday. I'd rather spend $2 than $6."
"Okay ... a double cheeseburger and fries will still be good."
Suddenly, I realize ... I'M NOT HUNGRY.
"On second thought," I say, "I'm not even hungry."
"So?" Glutton brain says. "That's hardly ever stopped you before. It'll be tasty ..." it taunts.
"Yeah, it will be tasty," I acknowledge. Then I come to my senses. "But I'm really not hungry."
Glutton-brain panics. "Yeah. Well ..." Thinking fast, it rationalizes, "But you'll be hungry later and you won't be able to go out then. Might as well eat now to head it off later."
"Isn't that a little dumb to eat NOW because I might be hungry LATER?" I say. "Besides, I've been trying to prove to myself for days that hunger won't kill me. If I get hungry later, I'll be fine."
Glutton-brain notices that the McD's is coming up quickly. "But, but ... McD fries are SO good!", it whines, and attempts to send signals to my hands and arms to put the turn signal on and get into the center turning lane. My hands twitch on the steering wheel, but I'm able to thwart the signal and get into the far right lane as we zoom by the restaurant.
"#*&@#!" Glutton-brain mumbles.
I was pretty proud of myself for really listening to my body. And I was fine throughout the afternoon.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
So, which is it?
I've been encountering several contradictory articles lately regarding food. A few examples:
Of course, I tend to agree with the advice that sounds the yummiest and easiest for me to follow. If a study came out suggesting that frosted sugar cookies may help reduce anything that can be bad in life, I would be happy.
- One article stating that if you skip meals or go more than six hours without eating, you'll sabotage all weight loss efforts because your body will think it's starving and hang on to all available fat with a vengeance, and another article stating that skipping occasional meals is actually an effective way to lose weight and will not harm your metabolism in the least.
- General articles and advice that recommend consuming skim or non-fat dairy products and another article discussing recent studies that suggest dairy fat may help with reducing/controlling blood pressure.
- The general advice that everyone should drink eight 8-ounce glasses of water every day, and an article that states everyone should drink eight 8-ounce servings of any beverages, which could include diet soda and coffee/tea.
- Not to mention the different reports on high fructose corn syrup ... is it poison that wreaks havoc on our bodies or simply another form of (cheap) sugar that is no different from glucose?
Of course, I tend to agree with the advice that sounds the yummiest and easiest for me to follow. If a study came out suggesting that frosted sugar cookies may help reduce anything that can be bad in life, I would be happy.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Feeling hot (and not in a good way)
Well, it's only May and I already had the day that is usually reserved for a nice warm day in the summer. This is the day where it's very warm out and I spend a considerable amount of time beating myself up for not sticking with whatever diet I had been on since January so that I would look good and be comfortable in shorts.
At my son's baseball game last Thursday, the weather was super hot and humid. I was dressed in a 3/4-length sleeved shirt and jeans, while so many around me were in cute shorts/capris and tank tops. Toned arms and cellulite-free legs abounded.
Grr. When will I ever get my act together?
At my son's baseball game last Thursday, the weather was super hot and humid. I was dressed in a 3/4-length sleeved shirt and jeans, while so many around me were in cute shorts/capris and tank tops. Toned arms and cellulite-free legs abounded.
Grr. When will I ever get my act together?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Killer Hunger
Hunger - it's like an evil thing, to be avoided at all costs. I mean the phrase is "hunger pains." PAIN. Not hunger nudges. Not hunger you-might-want-to-think-about-getting-a-snack.
Look at these two phrases:
1. Labor pains
2. Hunger pains
Not even close to the same thing, right? But sometimes I behave as though the latter is as bad as the former.
Because I tend to eat according to outside cues rather than inner hunger, I don't often feel hunger pains. But when I do, it's like an agony that I have to relieve immediately. I'll get home from work, and as I'm cooking dinner, I'm eating cereal out of the box or a downing handful of chips to ease the hungry agony. Why not just wait until I sit down to dinner?
Some years ago, I followed a plan called the Weigh Down Workshop, a Christian-based group that had the premise that God gives us internal cues to tell us when we're hungry and when we're full, i.e., when to eat and when to stop eating. On the first day, you aren't supposed to eat anything at all until you feel TRUE hunger, and note what time of day it was. For me, it was 4 p.m. before I felt real, true hunger. But had it been a different day, I would have eaten breakfast, lunch and a couple snacks by then. I need to get back to that, just listening to my body. Another premise of this group is that you can eat anything you want, just eat only when hungry and stop when full. "Eat anything you want" is a dangerous phrase for compulsive/emotional eaters. But I digress ...
Way back in the day, my microbiology professor was talking about dieting and how diets will tout the fact that people using a particular plan will not be hungry. He said (paraphrasing) "If you're trying to lose weight and you eat less food than you usually do, you'll be hungry. It's a fact. Just deal with it."
On Monday, I decided to experiment and teach myself that hunger isn't a bad guy. I decided I wasn't going to eat while I was at work. Many times while I'm working, as I find myself tackling something a bit stressful, I'll automatically eat; without food, I'll just have to find a way to get through the stress on my own. Plus, I also wonder, I sit at a desk all day; how many calories do I really need to sustain that?
I did it. There was a period of time around 1 p.m./2 p.m. where I was rather uncomfortable with an empty stomach, but I didn't give in. And get this. I SURVIVED. I ate a regular dinner, but no before bedtime snack, and I felt rather good.
Though how I was ever anorexic in my life is beyond me.
In one of my comments to Alana (http://www.foodismyfrenemy.blogspot.com/), I talked about how the phrase "I'm not hungry" is rather foreign to me. I'm going to use it this week at some point and see what happens.
Look at these two phrases:
1. Labor pains
2. Hunger pains
Not even close to the same thing, right? But sometimes I behave as though the latter is as bad as the former.
Because I tend to eat according to outside cues rather than inner hunger, I don't often feel hunger pains. But when I do, it's like an agony that I have to relieve immediately. I'll get home from work, and as I'm cooking dinner, I'm eating cereal out of the box or a downing handful of chips to ease the hungry agony. Why not just wait until I sit down to dinner?
Some years ago, I followed a plan called the Weigh Down Workshop, a Christian-based group that had the premise that God gives us internal cues to tell us when we're hungry and when we're full, i.e., when to eat and when to stop eating. On the first day, you aren't supposed to eat anything at all until you feel TRUE hunger, and note what time of day it was. For me, it was 4 p.m. before I felt real, true hunger. But had it been a different day, I would have eaten breakfast, lunch and a couple snacks by then. I need to get back to that, just listening to my body. Another premise of this group is that you can eat anything you want, just eat only when hungry and stop when full. "Eat anything you want" is a dangerous phrase for compulsive/emotional eaters. But I digress ...
Way back in the day, my microbiology professor was talking about dieting and how diets will tout the fact that people using a particular plan will not be hungry. He said (paraphrasing) "If you're trying to lose weight and you eat less food than you usually do, you'll be hungry. It's a fact. Just deal with it."
On Monday, I decided to experiment and teach myself that hunger isn't a bad guy. I decided I wasn't going to eat while I was at work. Many times while I'm working, as I find myself tackling something a bit stressful, I'll automatically eat; without food, I'll just have to find a way to get through the stress on my own. Plus, I also wonder, I sit at a desk all day; how many calories do I really need to sustain that?
I did it. There was a period of time around 1 p.m./2 p.m. where I was rather uncomfortable with an empty stomach, but I didn't give in. And get this. I SURVIVED. I ate a regular dinner, but no before bedtime snack, and I felt rather good.
Though how I was ever anorexic in my life is beyond me.
In one of my comments to Alana (http://www.foodismyfrenemy.blogspot.com/), I talked about how the phrase "I'm not hungry" is rather foreign to me. I'm going to use it this week at some point and see what happens.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
It's okay ... I have cake
So, I'm at this award ceremony dinner event. It's taking place in a popular event center in a nearby city that has a few scary areas in it as far as incidents of crime. It doesn't take long to drive from the event center and find yourself in an area that may make you a bit leery, so I always have the exact route ready for getting back on the highway toward home.
On this night, however, the on-ramp was closed due to construction. I'm a bit nervous, but I see detours and other cars following the detours, so I don't panic quite yet. As I continue, I notice the posted detours are for a particular street, but do not indicate how I can get back onto the highway. I also begin to notice that there are no longer any other cars on the street, and I am now in a random residential neighborhood. Now I'm beginning to panic. I see some storefronts, but nowhere that I want to get out and ask for directions. I see a random guy walking along the side of the road, another riding his bike. My anxiety level is beginning to skyrocket as I realize I'm getting more and more lost in an area of the city that I'm completely unfamiliar with and it's getting pretty dark outside. I can't even call my husband and ask him where I need to go because I don't have a clue as to where I am and I certainly am not stopping to look at street signs. I grab the slice of cake lying next to me and eat it in three big bites.
(sound effect: the screeching noise of a needle on a record)
Cake? What cake?
Well, let me back up.
As we left the dinner and ceremony for the evening, the large delicious-looking cake that had been set just inside the entrance (to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the awards) had been cut into small slices and set on napkins for guests to take as they left. It was white cake, with a thick layer of that white sugary bakery frosting that is THE BEST. Anyone who knows me knows I love frosted sugar cookies and white cake with frosting (a la traditional wedding cake). So, I take a slice, and ask my colleagues if they plan to take one, and they both decline, referring to the small slice of cheesecake we had had for dessert not more than an hour before. Normal eaters. What can you do with them?
I was like, "Oh, yeah, I did just have a slice of cheesecake, didn't I?" But my rationalization gene smelled sugar and kicked on, saying, "It's not like you get this kind of cake every day. And you already have it in your hand; what are you going to do? Go put it back? Don't be ridiculous. Plus you don't have to eat it tonight, just take it home."
Ooh, my rationalization gene is good. It KNOWS damn well that I'm eating that slice of cake tonight, but it has even me convinced that I'll save it for tomorrow.
So, that's why I have a slice of cake in the car with me as I'm driving around, talking to myself, peering fervently out the window for a street name that looks familiar. And in my high anxiety state, I ate that cake.
"Ate" maybe is the wrong word, because that implies using utensils, chewing, tasting and swallowing. I "used" that cake is more like it. I literally ate it in three bites, just shoved it in, not for the flavor, not because I was hungry, but to drown out the panic and fear that were bubbling up within me. I used it to calm me down.
Was it delicious? I'm sure it was. I remember it was moist, and the frosting was thick, both excellent qualities for a cake to have. But taste? I honestly have no idea how it tasted. Really. I think back on those two bites, and I remembering having a full mouth, chewing and swallowing, and doing it all quickly. I don't remember tasting it.
Which is a shame. Because this was the kind of cake that was meant to be savored. You get a bite on your fork, making sure you have just the right proportions of frosting and cake, and put it in your mouth, making one of those "Mmmm" sounds heard countless times on The Food Network each day. And maybe your eyes even roll back into your head as you savor the moist vanilla-ness of the cake and the creamy mouth feel of the frosting. It was baked to be a cake. It was not baked to be a sedative.
As I drove, I found myself at a busy road, which I took to be a good sign. I turned in a direction I thought would lead me toward something familiar. As it turned out, I ended up right back at the event center. Not wanting to take another chance at getting lost, I parked and headed back inside to ask for directions. Before I got to the door, three people came out, a husband and wife, and another woman. I told them my dilemma, and one lady told me the way to go, then the other lady asked her husband if I could just follow them and they'd show me where to turn to get onto the highway, mentioning that if she was in my situation, she'd be a bit scared, too. I was so utterly grateful for these kind people, and they got me exactly where I needed to be.
I waved to them as I turned onto the road that took me to the on-ramp for the highway and said a prayer of blessing for them. As I headed home, I felt myself begin to relax. I hadn't realized exactly how nervous I had been until I got back into my car to follow my lifesavers and realized I had been shivering, not from a chill, but from nerves.
Along with the steadying of those nerves, I also felt full. I could feel the heaviness of the cake in my stomach, and I felt so bummed that I had eaten it that way. I wished I had simply enjoyed it, at a table, with a fork, while I was feeling good and happy.
On this night, however, the on-ramp was closed due to construction. I'm a bit nervous, but I see detours and other cars following the detours, so I don't panic quite yet. As I continue, I notice the posted detours are for a particular street, but do not indicate how I can get back onto the highway. I also begin to notice that there are no longer any other cars on the street, and I am now in a random residential neighborhood. Now I'm beginning to panic. I see some storefronts, but nowhere that I want to get out and ask for directions. I see a random guy walking along the side of the road, another riding his bike. My anxiety level is beginning to skyrocket as I realize I'm getting more and more lost in an area of the city that I'm completely unfamiliar with and it's getting pretty dark outside. I can't even call my husband and ask him where I need to go because I don't have a clue as to where I am and I certainly am not stopping to look at street signs. I grab the slice of cake lying next to me and eat it in three big bites.
(sound effect: the screeching noise of a needle on a record)
Cake? What cake?
Well, let me back up.
As we left the dinner and ceremony for the evening, the large delicious-looking cake that had been set just inside the entrance (to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the awards) had been cut into small slices and set on napkins for guests to take as they left. It was white cake, with a thick layer of that white sugary bakery frosting that is THE BEST. Anyone who knows me knows I love frosted sugar cookies and white cake with frosting (a la traditional wedding cake). So, I take a slice, and ask my colleagues if they plan to take one, and they both decline, referring to the small slice of cheesecake we had had for dessert not more than an hour before. Normal eaters. What can you do with them?
I was like, "Oh, yeah, I did just have a slice of cheesecake, didn't I?" But my rationalization gene smelled sugar and kicked on, saying, "It's not like you get this kind of cake every day. And you already have it in your hand; what are you going to do? Go put it back? Don't be ridiculous. Plus you don't have to eat it tonight, just take it home."
Ooh, my rationalization gene is good. It KNOWS damn well that I'm eating that slice of cake tonight, but it has even me convinced that I'll save it for tomorrow.
So, that's why I have a slice of cake in the car with me as I'm driving around, talking to myself, peering fervently out the window for a street name that looks familiar. And in my high anxiety state, I ate that cake.
"Ate" maybe is the wrong word, because that implies using utensils, chewing, tasting and swallowing. I "used" that cake is more like it. I literally ate it in three bites, just shoved it in, not for the flavor, not because I was hungry, but to drown out the panic and fear that were bubbling up within me. I used it to calm me down.
Was it delicious? I'm sure it was. I remember it was moist, and the frosting was thick, both excellent qualities for a cake to have. But taste? I honestly have no idea how it tasted. Really. I think back on those two bites, and I remembering having a full mouth, chewing and swallowing, and doing it all quickly. I don't remember tasting it.
Which is a shame. Because this was the kind of cake that was meant to be savored. You get a bite on your fork, making sure you have just the right proportions of frosting and cake, and put it in your mouth, making one of those "Mmmm" sounds heard countless times on The Food Network each day. And maybe your eyes even roll back into your head as you savor the moist vanilla-ness of the cake and the creamy mouth feel of the frosting. It was baked to be a cake. It was not baked to be a sedative.
As I drove, I found myself at a busy road, which I took to be a good sign. I turned in a direction I thought would lead me toward something familiar. As it turned out, I ended up right back at the event center. Not wanting to take another chance at getting lost, I parked and headed back inside to ask for directions. Before I got to the door, three people came out, a husband and wife, and another woman. I told them my dilemma, and one lady told me the way to go, then the other lady asked her husband if I could just follow them and they'd show me where to turn to get onto the highway, mentioning that if she was in my situation, she'd be a bit scared, too. I was so utterly grateful for these kind people, and they got me exactly where I needed to be.
I waved to them as I turned onto the road that took me to the on-ramp for the highway and said a prayer of blessing for them. As I headed home, I felt myself begin to relax. I hadn't realized exactly how nervous I had been until I got back into my car to follow my lifesavers and realized I had been shivering, not from a chill, but from nerves.
Along with the steadying of those nerves, I also felt full. I could feel the heaviness of the cake in my stomach, and I felt so bummed that I had eaten it that way. I wished I had simply enjoyed it, at a table, with a fork, while I was feeling good and happy.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The last day ... part 82
The first of the month, any month, has been more often than not a day I would start a diet. Therefore, the day before would become the "last day." The last day I would eat sugar. The last day I would eat fried foods. The last day I would indulge. The last day I would eat carbs.
The fact that tomorrow (well, today, technically, since it's after midnight as I'm writing this) is May 1st was not lost on me today as I grocery shopped. I've been following - excuse me, trying to follow Atkins, since I've always just felt better when I avoided flour. But, as is usually the case, as soon as I cut something out, I want it the most. I actually did very well for about a week. Lots of veggies, yummy meats and cheeses, eggs for breakfast most days. Then, the groceries got low, and my food choices were limited. I got home one night and I was pretty hungry having eaten pretty light all day. I can't remember what I made for dinner that night, but I do remember it included sweet yeast rolls. Yum. And because I was pretty hungry and my defenses were down, I ended up eating one. And so began my rationalization period.
This is the time when I change my mind about how I'm going to eat several times during a day. I'll begin the day so strong. "I'm going to do this. I want to lose weight." And I vow to follow my eating plan. By midday, I'm wavering, but I only slip up a little. By dinner, I'm irritated that I have to follow any kind of eating plan and annoyed at the injustice of it all. After the kids go to bed, I'm scarfing down a big bowl of sugary cereal or ice cream or eating cookies or whatever. I go to bed disappointed in myself, yet certain I'll do better the next day. I consider modifying my initial eating plan, making it a bit less strict. And so it goes.
This afternoon, I bought Lofthouse sugar cookies. Heaven in the form of flour and sugar. Why would someone trying to follow Atkins's two-week Induction buy Lofthouse sugar cookies? Because this has become another "last day."
I've told myself I'm going to start over. I had been following my progress (or lack thereof) on fatsecret.com, even going so far as to join an Induction challenge. I've failed miserably. But, tomorrow's the first, so I can simply erase the past and start again.
AND it's a double whammy. A first of the month AND a Sunday. I mean, c'mon; you start a diet on a Sunday that's also the first of the month, that's serious.
The fact that tomorrow (well, today, technically, since it's after midnight as I'm writing this) is May 1st was not lost on me today as I grocery shopped. I've been following - excuse me, trying to follow Atkins, since I've always just felt better when I avoided flour. But, as is usually the case, as soon as I cut something out, I want it the most. I actually did very well for about a week. Lots of veggies, yummy meats and cheeses, eggs for breakfast most days. Then, the groceries got low, and my food choices were limited. I got home one night and I was pretty hungry having eaten pretty light all day. I can't remember what I made for dinner that night, but I do remember it included sweet yeast rolls. Yum. And because I was pretty hungry and my defenses were down, I ended up eating one. And so began my rationalization period.
This is the time when I change my mind about how I'm going to eat several times during a day. I'll begin the day so strong. "I'm going to do this. I want to lose weight." And I vow to follow my eating plan. By midday, I'm wavering, but I only slip up a little. By dinner, I'm irritated that I have to follow any kind of eating plan and annoyed at the injustice of it all. After the kids go to bed, I'm scarfing down a big bowl of sugary cereal or ice cream or eating cookies or whatever. I go to bed disappointed in myself, yet certain I'll do better the next day. I consider modifying my initial eating plan, making it a bit less strict. And so it goes.
This afternoon, I bought Lofthouse sugar cookies. Heaven in the form of flour and sugar. Why would someone trying to follow Atkins's two-week Induction buy Lofthouse sugar cookies? Because this has become another "last day."
I've told myself I'm going to start over. I had been following my progress (or lack thereof) on fatsecret.com, even going so far as to join an Induction challenge. I've failed miserably. But, tomorrow's the first, so I can simply erase the past and start again.
AND it's a double whammy. A first of the month AND a Sunday. I mean, c'mon; you start a diet on a Sunday that's also the first of the month, that's serious.
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