A week ago I announced to the world that I had packed some pounds back on and was having a lot of trouble controlling what and how much I was eating.
I had developed a major carb addiction. And I had also developed a bunch of other unhealthy eating habits.
I rarely sat down at the table to eat, I always ate dinner in front of the television and not until after 9 pm, and I was snacking in the middle of the night. I had also reverted back to eating whatever was left on my kids’ plates when they were done with lunch.
And then I would eat my own lunch.
I was eating when I was tired, eating when I was stressed, eating when I was happy, and eating when I was sad.
Since I basically stopped buying processed foods about a year ago, I had rationalized all the eating, convincing myself that since I was putting good stuff into my body, it didn’t really matter how much I ate. But I was pretty much eating all the time.
And it wasn’t good.
And every single day I would wake up feeling really disappointed in myself, vow to make changes that day, last until around 5:00 in the afternoon, and then just totally blow it.
And the cycle continued for a couple months.
And then Personal Trainer Food contacted me about trying their program, and rather than wait until January 1st, I started on December 20th.
Five days before Christmas.
And I made it through the first week.
I’m not going to lie.
There are some things that have sucked.
Like the first day. The first day sucked. Big time.
All I could think about was the stuff I couldn’t eat. But the fact that I was obsessing to that level was an indication that I needed help.
So I changed my focus. I kept repeating, “You are helping yourself, not punishing yourself.”
And rather than focus on all the shit I couldn’t have, I kept my eye on the prize: feeling better, both physically and emotionally, waking up each morning feeling in control and proud of myself, and dropping those pounds I had gained.
When I was really having a hard time, I would envision myself waking up on January 1st feeling so glad that I had started the process ten days earlier rather than being consumed by feelings of guilt and regret.
Because who wants to spend the first day of the new year feeling shitty and being fucking miserable? Not me.
The second day was a little easier. The third day wasn’t too bad either. I even made it through a cookie swap successfully.
Christmas day sucked. A lot. It was hard and I was really struggling. But I packed food to take with me to my parents’ house, and I didn’t cave. At all.
And the morning after Christmas, there was no guilt, no regret, no bloating, no tight pants.
So now, seven days in, here is what I can say.
I feel really good.
I know I feel better physically because I haven’t been putting crap into my body.
But I also just feel really, really, REALLY good about myself for having self control during one of the hardest times of year to hold it together in the eating department.
And this morning, when I met my running buddy (MRB) and she took one look at me and said, “Look at your legs! They’re thinner already!”, well, that also felt pretty good.
“Really???” I asked her.
“Would I say that if it wasn’t true?” she said to me, cocking her head to the side.
She wouldn’t. She doesn’t fuck around.
That was nice. The unsolicited I can tell you’ve lost weight, never sucks.
So here is my plan going forward. Here is how I plan to measure my progress for the next three weeks.
I’m trying to avoid the scale, because I can become a little obsessed with it, but also because I tend to convert fat to muscle fairly quickly, and I know that just because the numbers on the scale aren’t changing, it doesn’t mean my body isn’t changing.
Here I am in my favorite running outfit (excuse the quality of the pictures — Number 5 was the only kid around to take them for me, but they’re not bad for a 5-year-old).
It doesn’t fit the way it did in the summer of 2013. It’s tighter. Especially around the midsection. You can see the spare tire.
And here I am in the running vest that MRB got me for Christmas.
Let me tell you something about that vest. When MRB gave it to me after swim practice last Monday, I couldn’t zip it. In fact, I couldn’t even make both sides of the zipper touch.
MRB told me she had the receipt and I could exchange it. But I told her I wanted to keep it, because in four more weeks, it would fit me perfectly.
And it’s only 5 days later, and I can already zip it.
I look like a stuffed sausage in it, but I zipped that mothereffer up.
It feels good.
I’m regaining control, I’m moving forward, and I can’t wait to see where I am next Saturday.