I’m talkin’ very small, but I must write them down.
I’ve had three alcoholic beverages since the weekend.
When N and I had time to kill while waiting for his retainers to be made by the orthodontist, we went looking for something to eat. I didn’t go for the comfort food that I felt like getting. I got a Subway turkey sandwich and some water instead, which was in fact delicious. Not even a cookie, and believe me, they were talking to me!
I went to the gym today knowing I had a mishmash of stuff in my gym bag, some of which was not clean (I was right and ew). I took what clothes I could find and got 45 music-filled minutes on the spin bike.
I have learned that I should stop consuming anything by 7 or 8 pm, because I’ll definitely wake up at night not feeling well if I do eat anything late. I’m hoping this digestion problem goes away when I’m lighter, but it’s a good habit to get into anyway.
I haven’t bought anything other than diet Pepsi from the vending machine in a week because I bring no money with me to work. Yes I know: diet soda, I KNOW. But this is a pretty good victory, because that machine has become a terrible habit for me.
I have had a bar of dark chocolate this week, and I did eat a cup or so of chocolate-covered raisins the other day (and yes, I paid for it), so I haven’t been an angel. Still to do: weigh in, and start writing down foods.
I don’t know that I’ll see any movement on the scale this Sunday. But it’s Thursday so maybe there’s still hope!
When I told B that I had developed a headache after eating a slice of cake last week, he said “Your body’s trying to tell you that it’s not five anymore.” He’s absolutely right! Thanks, body!
In addition to not being able to process any ole thing I decide to put down my cakehole, I’m also learning that my stomach can’t actually hold that much quantity, despite what I’ve always believed. Saturday, after a truly delicious chicken enchilada dinner that B made, we all went to see a movie. I debated whether to get a snack. I could just, you know, watch a movie without eating. But who does that??? I’d hardly know what to do with myself if I didn’t have one.
So I had two. Or, half of two: half of a small popcorn and half of a box of Milk Duds. And sure enough, that night I woke with that sick, full feeling that I said I didn’t want anymore. It’s possible I have some kind of reflux thing going on, but since it doesn’t happen if I eat small amounts, I’m going to go with: I’m still eating too much, even if it’s not Thanksgiving amounts of food.
On Sunday I ate very little until 2:30 pm, and by then I was completely starving. I ate waaaayyyy too much and knew it. I attempted to go for a run and my body simply was not having it. That was no surprise.
Oh, and did you know that when your are a larger person with a stomach that protrudes, clothes want to migrate UNDER that shit when you run? Which means you can’t wear just anything to go running. No, you must wear something a little snug around the waist, with some heft in the fabric. This is a lesson I keep learning over and over. I still think I’m a skinny person.
Ended the week 2 pounds down.
This week’s plan: Write down what I eat, without trying to figure out how many calories are in everything; weigh in at a “Weigh and Win” kiosk to document my starting point. (Bonus: it takes a photo every time you weigh in. I will be posting those!)
Yesterday I didn’t do any crazy eating, and I didn’t wake up in the night with a bad feeling in my stomach. I think either my stomach takes longer to notice there’s food in it, or else I just don’t know what being full feels like until it’s much too late. (Hm…just like my brain doesn’t know I’ve had Way Too Much Alcohol until it’s too late!) I often wake up at night shocked at how full I still am from “dinner”. (Is it dinner if you ate all evening?)
So that was nice, and I’m thinking this is a great goal: to go to bed with a stomach that feels, if not empty, at least not full.
Today I had sushi for lunch with A, and ended up eating pretty sparingly. I thought I’d be starving pretty much right away, but again I was surprised to find that there was a delay in feeling full. I had a lot of water with it but didn’t feel at all deprived.
I got a short half hour on the elliptical. Not ideal, not what Previous Me would even call a workout, but I’ll take it!
Not ideal: a serving of vanilla gelato from the freezer at work today. In retrospect, I’d rather have had a beer for those calories.
I really like making plans. When I decide to lose weight or train for a race, I bust out a calendar and plot out Future-Me’s progress. I feel so in control! On Day One, I’m always Bilbo, setting out on an adventure. We all know how that ends. The first thing Bilbo and I want is second breakfast.
Laying out plans has actually worked for me in the past, and I managed the inevitable detours along the way. But for some reason, it doesn’t anymore. Once I come across an obstacle, I am completely derailed and I give up on my plans. (There have been more obstacles lately, I’ll admit.) So I’ve decided to stop doing the thing that doesn’t work, and instead approach every single day as Day One.
It’s simple and I’m not the first to think of it. “One Day at a Time” is the slogan for Alcoholics Anonymous, for good reason. I hope…please, let it be so…that I am at my own “rock bottom” in terms of weight right now. The scale has been climbing steadily for years, but that has been less of a concern than the comfort that calories provide. As of March 1, 2017, the number on the scale is almost 200. It doesn’t matter how much I tell myself I don’t care, and it’s no longer enough that my adorable boyfriend genuinely thinks I’m beautiful anyway. This number really matters, and I need to find a new way to face it.
So this is my new way: every day is Day One. This is where I’ll write about my good days, my bad days, my progress, my slip-ups, and hopefully, the many ways I find to love myself back into health. And maybe someday, someone will see this and say, “Me too!” and they will find in it the hope they need.