Thursday, 26 April 2012

Not the End of the World

I just ate 250 calories worth of marzipan chocolate bar. It wasn't even that nice.


I bought it from a posh sweet shop in town, and had a cheeky bite to see what it was like. But when I found it wasn't all that nice, suddenly I just wanted to inhale the whole thing. Almost like I was trying to get rid of it. I don't understand why I do that, but I definitely do. Whenever I binge, it's always on things that aren't nice, things that are disappointing.

But it's okay. I'm cutting the unnecessary carbs from my dinner later and loading up on six different kinds of vegetable in a prawn stir fry. And in a moment I'm off to a zumba class to burn off that stupid binge.

It was stupid.

But it's not the end of the world.

And I actually feel okay about it.

And maybe next time I'll find it in me to stop.

Because, while it's not the end of the world, it's definitely NOT WORTH IT.

Saturday, 21 April 2012

You know what?

One day I'm going to meet someone who actually finds me attractive.

One day we'll go out for lunch together, and order whatever the hell we want, and talk, and laugh, and afterwards we'll get ice cream and walk along the beach or through the woods or just down the street.

One day we'll wake up lazily and late on a weekend morning, and spend the day baking, and reading, and lying around in each other's arms.

One day we'll get up in the middle of the night, just for the hell of it, and get in the car and drive far far away in any direction that comes, and keep on driving until the sun rises, and then stop and watch it.

One day we'll get home late and run in out of the rain, order a take-away, strip off our wet clothes and fuck before the food arrives.

One day we'll have a stupid argument and shout at each other, and then come back and apologise, and kiss, and know everything is actually okay.

One day I'll breakdown and cry and cry and cry for reasons I can't even explain, but they'll hold me and let me cling to them, and they won't leave.

One day I'll be able to tell someone that I love them, and believe they might say it back.

One day I'll stand naked in front of them and feel beautiful as their eyes run over my body.

One day I'll realise there's someone I can tell everything and anything to. Someone I never have to hide around. And someone who feels the same way about me. So we can be simple and honest and naked together.

One day someone will find me.

One day.

You have no idea how much I wish I believed all of that, or any of that, or even one 'one day'.

I wish I believed it.

Somewhere I never thought I'd be

Approaching my goal.

Thinking about maintenance.


When did this happen?

I still don't think it's quite sunken in somewhere in my head that I have actually lost all this weight, that I am in normal weight ranges now. I definitely still think of myself as fat. And sure, I still have fat that I'd like to lose- particularly on my stomach and thighs- but it occurs to me that maybe I should start slowing things down a little.

I haven't paid all that much attention to what is 'recommended' while losing this weight, because I think weight loss is so personal both for how you can manage it mentally and how your body copes physically that no one else can really tell you what to do, you have to find what works for you. But I'm pretty sure losing 2 pounds a week and creating 1000 cal daily deficits is considered 'too fast' a rate of loss for where I am. (I weighed in yesterday at 143lb (10st 3lb), giving me a BMI of 23.1.)

So I'm thinking I might try very slowly slowing it down, maybe decreasing my deficit by 100 cals a week, and seeing how I go. This will also be good because I've become pretty attached to the nice round number 1000, to the point where I sometimes stress about exercising more or eating less just to meet it, which I think is becoming somewhat unhealthy. What I might do is try and settle around 750 or 500 deficits, for 1.5 or 1 lb weekly loses and see how we go from there.

In other news:
-Last weekend I passed 100 miles in tracking how many miles I've run so far in 2012. Not too shabby. I can also now run upwards of 45 minutes without too much hassle, and my longest run was 65 minutes. A little bit proud of that.
-My total weight loss is now 60lb since September 2011. Seeing it written like that, I can't believe I sometimes feel like I haven't changed at all. Wahey, body dysmorphia! Oh well, I guess it's a learning curve?
-Been having some tasty food revelations. Big picture post to follow at some point.

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

It's all okay.

When I weighed in on Monday morning, I was 1/2 pound above my last weigh in on 30th March.

This morning, when I stepped on the scales, I was 1/2 pound below my last weigh in.

So, right direction... now keep going!

Sunday, 8 April 2012

Bingeing and Whingeing

In the past week, there hasn't been a single day on which I haven't either binged or overeaten. There is a key difference, I think, although neither are good things.

For me, overeating is the 'I don't care, I just want to eat what I want and not obsess about denying myself' attitude. It's the attitude that has me reaching for chunk after chunk of chocolate, cutting slice after slice of bread, dolling out pasta and potatoes and cake onto my plate like there's no tomorrow. I want to eat what I'm eating, but afterwards I feel stuffed and uncomfortable and fat.

For me, bingeing is 'I don't even want to eat any more of this, but I'm going to eat it all because... because...' There isn't a reason. Not a rational one. Maybe I'm stressed or worried or hurt or maybe I just feel shit about myself and about what I'm doing, so I compensate by making myself feel shitter. Good old self-destructive tendencies. In a binge, I eat and eat and eat, even if the food isn't nice, even if I don't want it, even if I'm full to bursting, it's as though I have no control. I can't stop. Even if it's stale bread that's so hard it hurts my teeth, or congealing leftovers I'm picking off other people's plates in the washing up pile, or questionable things lurking at the back of fridges. And afterwards, I feel like a hideous, monstrous failure.

So why did I keep doing it? In my months of weight loss since September, I'd only 'binged' maybe a handful of times before and 'overeaten' maybe a handful more. What was it about this last week that made it so hard to stop?

1. I was staying with my parents, which means less control over my food and the presence of a lot of high calorie foods as temptation.
2. Lack of scales, thus decreased accountability.
3. Food that belongs to other people tends to trigger me more to want to steal/overeat it.
4. Emotional issues connected to one of my oldest friends behaving remarkably insensitively.
5. Broader life worries triggered by my turning 20 years old. Being concerned that I don't know where I'm going in life and I'm destined to always be a failure.
6. Tiredness. Tiredness with being so strict. The (illogical) idea that all my effort has been for nothing, that I haven't actually achieved anything after all.
7. Laziness. Not bothering to make the effort to actually stop myself. Letting the overeating become a habit.

None of those really sounds right, although I think they all were involved, and if I do my best to avoid them or at least avoid letting them get to me in this way, then I should be in a better position to cope in the future.

I'm back at uni now, so I have complete control back over what I buy and what I eat, and I'm determined to be good and strict again. Not only because I want to continue losing weight, but also chiefly because eating well makes me feel good, both physically and mentally, and overeating and bingeing makes me feel utterly utterly awful. And that's not what we want.

I'm also kind of terrified that I've gained weight. If I have, it will be my first gain since I started losing in September. I'm waiting until tomorrow morning to weigh-in, and I've only just got home and it's afternoon already.

But, importantly, if I have gained:
a) I can lose it again. It isn't the end of the world.
b) It will be an excellent lesson in the fact that the choices I made this past week (and they were choices, even if it felt as though I had no control, I did choose to eat what I did, no one forced me) do have consequences for my health and my happiness, and I need to accept what I did wrong and accept the consequences, so that I can work on doing it right in the future.

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Fucking hell.

Why can't I just have a normal relationship with food?

How do other people manage it? They eat when they're hungry, they eat what they want, they stop when they're full. They don't even consider what other people are thinking. Food is fuel and a pleasure. Food is just food.

I can't even imagine what it must be like for it all to be so simple.

Why can't food for us be as simple as it is for animals? Why all this fear and stress, why the total obsession?

Why does it have to be starve or binge?

Why does it have to be obsessing over every calorie? Why do I have the control to pare it down to a few hundred calories a day when I want to, yet some days I lose control so pathetically that I stuff my face with everything I can find? Why do I have to end up crouching in front of the toilet with my fingers down my throat, failing even to do that successfully? Why can I not accept that I've achieved something without constantly seeking ways to self-sabotage?

I just want it to stop. I just want it to be normal. I don't want to have to think about it any more, worry about it any more, I can't take it, I just need a break, a break, I want it to stop. I want to stop.

Leave me alone, food. I can't handle this all-or-nothing lottery we seem to be playing.