A blogspace I might actually use.
24 Aug 2016 - Food
Yep, I fell off the wagon. After over a month of strict accounting for all the food I put into my body, I went on a food bender these past two days. Double portion of salmon for dinner. A bit too many fruits after dinner. Then a hearty Irish Stew for lunch with friends the next day, followed by more of too much fruit after dinner followed by 270 calories of Italian cookies and a chicken sandwich at 11:30pm. Ugh.
I checked the scale and I gained two pounds since the last weigh-in. Now that’s not a lot, but when you’re losing a pound a day, who wants to hear about any gain?
And these past two days of overeating have manifested themselves in how I felt this morning. Sluggish to get up. Tired. Flat. No energy.
This is bad. Am I at risk of blowing my whole program?
Nah.
I went through my closet last night. I’m comfortably back into size 42 pants. 40’s were doable in a pinch. That means that instead of rotating the only two pairs of pants that fit me, I can now wear six, and they are all not black. I also have a lot more shorts I can wear, instead of just the three size 46’s I bought in a panic at this summer’s start. Considering that my goal is to get into 38, I’m not that far off.
I have also re-affirmed that yes, I am a foodaholic. Now, did I Google that term for the exact definition? No. Does it trivialize the thousands (millions?) of people with acute addictions to alcohol, drugs, and food where they’re 400-600 pounds? Probably.
But when I fail to keep my goal (size 38) in the forefront, when I am left alone in the kitchen at night with no one to “catch” me, when I have the opportunity to go to bed because I am yawning, when I am not hungry, when all those things are in place and yet I still decide to eat more than I need to, then I do have what I would consider an addiction to food.
Or maybe, let’s just call me a “live to eat” person, not an “eat to live” person. It’s wired into my culture, upbringing, DNA. I can accept that fact as long as I don’t allow it to take over my entire life. I’ll be a calorie counter until the day I die. Ok. That’s a small price to pay to extend that day much further into the future.
The bottom line is that I broke form for a day or so. Guess what? I’m not dead. I’m not 277 pounds again. I’m not appreciably different than the guy two days ago that was doing well with his quest to eat better. I am, however, still very different that the guy who was 277 at the start of this process with all those bad habits and no clue. So, I am relaxed. One day will not kill you. Do not be discouraged by an off day. “Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, start all over again.