Current weight: 292.6
Today was a good day, but that was to be expected. Starting a new idea, a new diet, a new program, is invigorating all on its own at first. I eschewed my usual morning cereal for a boiled egg and an orange. It was quick and good, and I didn't feel cheated as I rushed off to start my day. I had a snack rather than lunch, stopping at the grocery store to get an apple and a bit of cheese. I worked out, then came home and had a dinner of chicken breast, green beans, and pasta in parmesan sauce.
The feeling is ultimately more important than the food. But I noticed that I felt good today. Maybe because I felt so little guilt. I was not perfect, but I was good, and that lightened my step. Getting to the gym was a goal achieved, too. I may have hyperextended my left knee a bit on a machine I did not properly adjust, but the pain has already gone and I feel good.
Why can't the good feeling override the irrational submission to temptation when it counts? Why is it that this feeling fades, to be replaced with the thoughts of all of the things I cannot have? It is so frustrating to realize that I have slipped fully off of a program, then even worse to find I don't care enough to get back on track. I have tried before to employ the mantra of the alcohol- and drug-addicted, taking it one day at a time. Somehow, the day always dawns when I don't make the right choice.
A few days ago, I was driving in my car and eating. I had Krystals, fries, and a milkshake. As I ate, savoring the warm, soft bread, a voice in my head spoke up, pointing out that this was a far cry from good for me, and what's more, I had more Krystals than a person should need in one sitting. And with a milkshake besides! Crowned with copious real whipped cream! I kept eating, and tried to ignore the voice. Then it piped up to remind me that I was nearly 300 pounds, that I could not sit in the new hammock we bought with my hubby because I exceeded the weight allowance. This did not sober my sensibilities. I ignored the voice, and it grumbled, then faded. Soon after that, I began to get the idea for this blog. I wanted a chronicle of my successes and failures. I want to identify the patterns I fall prey to and the weaknesses that I seem powerless against. I want to find a way to laugh at this and be happy in it.
I want to find a way to make it stick.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
In the beginning...
Current weight: 294 lbs.
Wow, that hurt. Just typing in my real weight makes my fingers twitch above the delete button. You promised yourself honesty. Yeah, but was it supposed to hurt? Was it supposed to feel good?
Feeling good is one of my problems. I have felt good about myself, even though I have been overweight for the last 20 years. And I am not nearly old enough for that to be okay. Not that it should be okay at any time, I guess. But I have a good self-esteem, and I always thought that was a good thing. Now I think that is either a foil, or a crutch.
I have a loving husband and supportive family. I am in a profession I enjoy, one that is active and requires a great deal from me. I am good at what I do. But I could be better. My weight is a billboard of hypocrisy in my profession. I have many friends of all shapes and sizes, and they all say they love me as I am. But they get a bit too excited when I go on a diet or start an exercise program. I have quit announcing these endeavors because I don't want to keep letting them down.
Food is an addiction and a crutch. I am a stress eater. When work gets hectic, I stop off for a snack as I run. I am a boredom eater. Which is the worst because I hardly care what goes into my mouth when I am bored. Also, I just love food. It is a reward, a social event, an art form, a way to please friends and family, a conversation starter. It figures into planning throughout my day. I love pastas and cold cereal. I love mac and cheese. I enjoy the colors and textures of cooking with fresh fruits and veggies. Breads are a huge downfall. I like to bake when I am angry.
Food is a friend who does not care about my best interests. It's increasing my chances for diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, arthritis, chronic pain, and a host of gastrointestinal disorders. How can I continue to love something that is killing me?
Food addiction is not like drug addiction or alcohol addiction, or even sexual addiction. None of those things are required to survive. One cannot quit food cold-turkey. So it simply demands self-discipline in recovery, and that is always the downfall of a recovering addict. Alcoholics cannot sit in bars. Drug addicts don't go to pharm parties. But I still have to eat.
So here I go. I want to try, and I want to talk about trying. I want to see if I can hold myself accountable and make that work. So here goes, world. I will chronicle my weight, food, activity. I will slip up. I will set goals. I will think about the things that make me fat. And I will do it all here.
Come along, if you can handle it.
Wow, that hurt. Just typing in my real weight makes my fingers twitch above the delete button. You promised yourself honesty. Yeah, but was it supposed to hurt? Was it supposed to feel good?
Feeling good is one of my problems. I have felt good about myself, even though I have been overweight for the last 20 years. And I am not nearly old enough for that to be okay. Not that it should be okay at any time, I guess. But I have a good self-esteem, and I always thought that was a good thing. Now I think that is either a foil, or a crutch.
I have a loving husband and supportive family. I am in a profession I enjoy, one that is active and requires a great deal from me. I am good at what I do. But I could be better. My weight is a billboard of hypocrisy in my profession. I have many friends of all shapes and sizes, and they all say they love me as I am. But they get a bit too excited when I go on a diet or start an exercise program. I have quit announcing these endeavors because I don't want to keep letting them down.
Food is an addiction and a crutch. I am a stress eater. When work gets hectic, I stop off for a snack as I run. I am a boredom eater. Which is the worst because I hardly care what goes into my mouth when I am bored. Also, I just love food. It is a reward, a social event, an art form, a way to please friends and family, a conversation starter. It figures into planning throughout my day. I love pastas and cold cereal. I love mac and cheese. I enjoy the colors and textures of cooking with fresh fruits and veggies. Breads are a huge downfall. I like to bake when I am angry.
Food is a friend who does not care about my best interests. It's increasing my chances for diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease, arthritis, chronic pain, and a host of gastrointestinal disorders. How can I continue to love something that is killing me?
Food addiction is not like drug addiction or alcohol addiction, or even sexual addiction. None of those things are required to survive. One cannot quit food cold-turkey. So it simply demands self-discipline in recovery, and that is always the downfall of a recovering addict. Alcoholics cannot sit in bars. Drug addicts don't go to pharm parties. But I still have to eat.
So here I go. I want to try, and I want to talk about trying. I want to see if I can hold myself accountable and make that work. So here goes, world. I will chronicle my weight, food, activity. I will slip up. I will set goals. I will think about the things that make me fat. And I will do it all here.
Come along, if you can handle it.
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