Baby on the Weigh
Day 16
Mood: 6, pushing 7 even though it’s raining and cold
I would save so much time if I weren’t such a dork.
I have wasted years of my life fretting over things that are just not that important. Take this weight gain, for example. Yes, I am disappointed that I haven’t figured out the formula for successful weight maintenance, and no I do not wish to consider this my new ‘goal’ weight. Sitting here now, 2 days removed from the weekend rant, I can approach this logically. I think if I could remember this, and keep from exploding over every transgression, I’d do better. I’d feel better, I’d recover quicker, and I’d have less fallout. These angry thoughts don’t help me discover the path in, and they certainly don’t point to the way out. The potholes in my program remain, and every time I circle the block, my body gets a little further out of alignment.
There is a perfectionist streak in me, which I suspect is part of the problem. I have fantasies of never touching a Reese’s miniature again, but I grow weak when they’re sitting in front of me. I freeze, my brain turns off, and I cave. Then I spend days punching myself out over it. Once I’ve diverged on the Road Less Travelled, I burn my map in protest, pluck out my eyes and then sit stewing on a log, wondering why I can’t find my way back.
WW says that I should learn from these mistakes, and create ‘hedges’ to protect myself from the soft spots in my brain. Okay, but what about the repeat offenses? Isn’t there some threshold after which you just can’t hear yourself say ‘Oops, Self. I’m sorry…Again’? I know that I'm an impatient person, and whatever is true about me with others goes double when I'm dealing with myself.
I prefer to think about life in terms of obstacles, and how each time I overcome one, I become stronger. Every time I walk by the candy dish and keep my hands away, I’ve won, and I’ve made the next time easier. My weight goes down, my clothes fit better, the octopus retreats and life improves.
But the urge to indulge never gets easy, and it certainly never goes away. And I can’t seem to apply the same ‘each time makes me better’ logic to the falters. Every time I trip, I collapse, and then I descend into a Scarlet Letter-like flagellation. What’s wrong with me? Why do I do this? Look how much harder I’ve made it for myself to get back down. Clearly I’m not committed to weight loss.
Writing it all down, I see the absurdity of it. My mistakes have already happened, and there’s no way to undo them. I really have no choice but to walk away and take what I can from the experience. So that is the new goal. I accept that I am not perfect. I understand the unfairness of expecting to live my whole life without a food error. There is no such thing as Zero Tolerance eating.
And with these pronouncements comes a truth. I cannot indulge without consequences, because the sweetness in the treat triggers The Beast. I really do feel better below 150, and that’s where I want to be. So if I’m headed down there, I need to be active in pursuing that goal. I can’t sit at my desk eating malted milk balls and wondering why my diet isn’t working.
I want to build more things, like make a list of what I can and cannot eat, and the times I’m permitted to feed myself, making everything else off limits. But I live in this world, and it’s unrealistic to assume the Buddhist Monk diet of fish & rice. I don’t eat enough carbs anymore, and anyway, robes make me look fat.
But I’m going to be a grown-up about this, or at least make a plan to grow up. I can’t be a baby anymore. I must assume responsibility. I’m good at assuming responsibility. It’s just a matter of tweaking the job description a little. After 17 years in Human Resources, I think I can do that.
A the B(aby No More. Or, at least until next time.)
Mood: 6, pushing 7 even though it’s raining and cold
I would save so much time if I weren’t such a dork.
I have wasted years of my life fretting over things that are just not that important. Take this weight gain, for example. Yes, I am disappointed that I haven’t figured out the formula for successful weight maintenance, and no I do not wish to consider this my new ‘goal’ weight. Sitting here now, 2 days removed from the weekend rant, I can approach this logically. I think if I could remember this, and keep from exploding over every transgression, I’d do better. I’d feel better, I’d recover quicker, and I’d have less fallout. These angry thoughts don’t help me discover the path in, and they certainly don’t point to the way out. The potholes in my program remain, and every time I circle the block, my body gets a little further out of alignment.
There is a perfectionist streak in me, which I suspect is part of the problem. I have fantasies of never touching a Reese’s miniature again, but I grow weak when they’re sitting in front of me. I freeze, my brain turns off, and I cave. Then I spend days punching myself out over it. Once I’ve diverged on the Road Less Travelled, I burn my map in protest, pluck out my eyes and then sit stewing on a log, wondering why I can’t find my way back.
WW says that I should learn from these mistakes, and create ‘hedges’ to protect myself from the soft spots in my brain. Okay, but what about the repeat offenses? Isn’t there some threshold after which you just can’t hear yourself say ‘Oops, Self. I’m sorry…Again’? I know that I'm an impatient person, and whatever is true about me with others goes double when I'm dealing with myself.
I prefer to think about life in terms of obstacles, and how each time I overcome one, I become stronger. Every time I walk by the candy dish and keep my hands away, I’ve won, and I’ve made the next time easier. My weight goes down, my clothes fit better, the octopus retreats and life improves.
But the urge to indulge never gets easy, and it certainly never goes away. And I can’t seem to apply the same ‘each time makes me better’ logic to the falters. Every time I trip, I collapse, and then I descend into a Scarlet Letter-like flagellation. What’s wrong with me? Why do I do this? Look how much harder I’ve made it for myself to get back down. Clearly I’m not committed to weight loss.
Writing it all down, I see the absurdity of it. My mistakes have already happened, and there’s no way to undo them. I really have no choice but to walk away and take what I can from the experience. So that is the new goal. I accept that I am not perfect. I understand the unfairness of expecting to live my whole life without a food error. There is no such thing as Zero Tolerance eating.
And with these pronouncements comes a truth. I cannot indulge without consequences, because the sweetness in the treat triggers The Beast. I really do feel better below 150, and that’s where I want to be. So if I’m headed down there, I need to be active in pursuing that goal. I can’t sit at my desk eating malted milk balls and wondering why my diet isn’t working.
I want to build more things, like make a list of what I can and cannot eat, and the times I’m permitted to feed myself, making everything else off limits. But I live in this world, and it’s unrealistic to assume the Buddhist Monk diet of fish & rice. I don’t eat enough carbs anymore, and anyway, robes make me look fat.
But I’m going to be a grown-up about this, or at least make a plan to grow up. I can’t be a baby anymore. I must assume responsibility. I’m good at assuming responsibility. It’s just a matter of tweaking the job description a little. After 17 years in Human Resources, I think I can do that.
A the B(aby No More. Or, at least until next time.)
posted by Former Fat Girl Gone Skinny | 7:13 AM
1 Comments:
If you want to absolve yourself, you could always say: it's an addiction, so not my fault. But I truly admire the fact that you keep standing up to it, and hope and wish that I could (will) do the same. And I also think, as you were capable of doing it before, that you will be able to get below 150 anyway. If only because you now have something to fight for, a real family that loves and supports you. So, keep up the good work!
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