Okay, that may be a little dramatic. Especially considering there has been no great reason why I have disappeared; no reason for my lack of blog posts other than I was busy, and I was embarrassed by my level of stress eating. I've found throughout my journey that this is a "walking 15 miles in the snow, uphill both ways" type climb, and sometimes I trip and roll down the hill and have to restart.
As much as I mean that figuratively, there's also some literal meaning to it. Living in the valley of Connecticut ain't no joke, especially when you're trudging your way up a hill. Over the last month, I've tried walking a few times around my neighborhood only to end a sweaty, out of breath, hot damn mess. I'm not sure if it was because I was still recovering from my bronchitis, or if the hills are really that steep, but I thought my calves were going to explode and my chest was going to catch fire and burst, especially on the hills that I would have to climb to get back home. One of the major questions that flew through my mind(other than, "how the hell am I getting up this hill?" and "will someone please kill me?") was, "how did I ever let myself get this out of shape?".
Some answers to that last question are easily answered, and other answers are not so much. If you were to look back over the last 12 years of my life, you would be able to see a steady increase of weight alongside a steady decrease of activity and exercise. It would be much easier to play the victim, and I have before, and say that because of my genetics or my multiple moves and other terrible life experiences, I gained the weight. But then I would have to look at my brother who share the same genetics, and made the same moves with me, and still turned out to be in prime physical shape. (Yes, boys are different but still.) I can only blame myself, and my poor eating and exercising choices. I don't say this because I'm feeling bad for myself, although I definitely have felt bad for myself, I say this as conformation and acceptance that I cannot go back and change the past; I can only change the future.
Gorging on cake, and soda and all the bad things I hate that I love would be much easier, but obviously the easy way is not working for me, and hasn't for awhile. I'm thankful that I've recognized this, and I'm thankful that even though I've stopped, I restarted again with minimal damage. I might not be where I was a month ago, but I'm climbing my way back. Or you know, rising from the ashes.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
C-c-c-changes.
I haven't written in a week because work has been incredibly busy, and I have been sick with bronchitis and an ear infection in both my ears. I apologize profusely, and hopefully I will be able to keep a constant stream of posts coming.
Last Saturday, we helped my friend move from her apartment. I was anxious before we went, because she had lived on the third floor, and as you may know; stairs are the bane of my existence. My first ascent up the winding stairs seemed to go okay, and I felt confidence that I would be able to do this. After all, I am 20lbs lighter and in a little bit better shape. After the fourth or fifth time I went up and back down, my knee was calling out for reprieve and I was sweating like a factory worker. I was exhausted and in pain, but not as bad as I would have been almost 2 months ago. Two months ago, I would have complained the entire time about how tired and hot I was, and I would be searching to find the lightest items to take down. My laziness would compete against my want to help my friend, and more than likely, it would have won. Being able to walk up and down stairs multiple times in a row should not be something that I am proud of, but I am proud nonetheless. It's baby steps and baby achievements like these are going to carry me through this.
Marta's birthday was on Thursday, and we had a party for her on Saturday, and from Thursday to Sunday, I ate like it was my last weekend alive and I just wanted to enjoy everything all at once. I couldn't resist birthday cake or birthday pie, so I had 3 or 4 pieces over the course of the weekend. I wanted to celebrate my best friend's birthday, so I drank and partied with everyone. I didn't want healthy food, so I ate pizza. I was too nervous to step on my scale this morning to see the damage, but I can only assume I have gained something back.
When I do finally face my scale fear, and step on, I know I will be disappointed but I won't be distraught. I understand that I need to learn better self control, and that I need to say no more. But I have never met a piece of cake or pie that I didn't like, and how could I say no? It was my best friend's birthday.
I've hit my rock bottom when it comes to my weight, and I am fighting to climb back up. Thankfully, I have my family and my friends to catch me when I fall. I also have them to help me change, and help me grow into a better, healthier version of myself.
Changes have started, and they are still coming. I just need to learn to embrace them.
Last Saturday, we helped my friend move from her apartment. I was anxious before we went, because she had lived on the third floor, and as you may know; stairs are the bane of my existence. My first ascent up the winding stairs seemed to go okay, and I felt confidence that I would be able to do this. After all, I am 20lbs lighter and in a little bit better shape. After the fourth or fifth time I went up and back down, my knee was calling out for reprieve and I was sweating like a factory worker. I was exhausted and in pain, but not as bad as I would have been almost 2 months ago. Two months ago, I would have complained the entire time about how tired and hot I was, and I would be searching to find the lightest items to take down. My laziness would compete against my want to help my friend, and more than likely, it would have won. Being able to walk up and down stairs multiple times in a row should not be something that I am proud of, but I am proud nonetheless. It's baby steps and baby achievements like these are going to carry me through this.
Marta's birthday was on Thursday, and we had a party for her on Saturday, and from Thursday to Sunday, I ate like it was my last weekend alive and I just wanted to enjoy everything all at once. I couldn't resist birthday cake or birthday pie, so I had 3 or 4 pieces over the course of the weekend. I wanted to celebrate my best friend's birthday, so I drank and partied with everyone. I didn't want healthy food, so I ate pizza. I was too nervous to step on my scale this morning to see the damage, but I can only assume I have gained something back.
When I do finally face my scale fear, and step on, I know I will be disappointed but I won't be distraught. I understand that I need to learn better self control, and that I need to say no more. But I have never met a piece of cake or pie that I didn't like, and how could I say no? It was my best friend's birthday.
I've hit my rock bottom when it comes to my weight, and I am fighting to climb back up. Thankfully, I have my family and my friends to catch me when I fall. I also have them to help me change, and help me grow into a better, healthier version of myself.
Changes have started, and they are still coming. I just need to learn to embrace them.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
A small toddler.
After an internal battle of whether or not I wanted to step on the scale today, I finally did. When I looked down, I completely expected another gain rather than a loss and I was pleasantly surprised. I'm officially down 20lbs! I've lost a small toddler! Or a giant cat! Or two sacks of potatoes! Whatever the unit of measurement is that you prefer to represent 20lbs, I've lost it!
When I first started this, I saw the pounds fly off like little birds in the distance and I was full of happiness and I was super braggy. I made sure I told everyone how good I was doing, and how when I get super hot When I reached 10lbs, I felt like a supermodel and I was convinced that I was one. Active imagination aside, I knew that I was feeling good and I would soon start to look good. My progress has been slow, partially due to my camping weekend and partially due to my body slowing its pace. My weight was not put on in a matter of weeks or months, it steadily kept crept up each year, and I would rather my weight be shed slowly.
I haven't been a healthy weight in over a decade, so when I try to imagine what that means I become a little overwhelmed. I try to picture my outside matching my insides, and the way I feel about myself now, and it's almost impossible because I am so used to looking in a mirror and seeing a larger version of myself. I love myself despite the excess weight and minor things I'd like to change about my appearance. (I'm lookin' at you nose and bushy eyebrows.) I've always had good sense of who I am outside of my weight, and despite my need and want to change my weight, I have always been confident in myself. I was born with my confidence and I will carry this confidence with me for the rest of my life.
I keep mentioning how I'm not in this alone, and I truly know that I am not, especially when it comes to my sister Melissa who I want to brag about for just a second. Without her I would have given up a long time ago. She was the one who initially started this whole thing, and went out and bought our groceries. She is continually buying the healthy food, even when I beg and plead for candy, she kindly reminds me that it may not be the wisest choice for me to have. Melissa has lost 25.5lbs and I have never been so proud of her in my entire life. She's transforming before my very eyes, and in all positive ways. Melissa has always been someone I looked up to, and wanted to be like, and now more than ever I feel that way. She is the steady rock in all this, and I'm thankful that I have her. She has been there to commiserate with me when my stomach is an empty pit and no matter what I eat, it will never be full again. She has also been here to rejoice with me in my losses. Together we're gaining so much more, and our bond as sisters is becoming stronger. I love her infinitely, and I am excited to continue this path with her.
I always like to joke than when I do reach my goal weight, I'll be the size of a small child. While that is untrue, I am content enough to know that thus far, I have lost the weight of a small toddler. And by the time I am through, I will have lost enough weight that it equals out to another human. I don't look at my life in days or weeks or months, I look at my life in minutes and hours; and I don't look at my weight in pounds and percentages, I look at my weight in rewards and I see a manicure and pedicure in my very near future.
I haven't been a healthy weight in over a decade, so when I try to imagine what that means I become a little overwhelmed. I try to picture my outside matching my insides, and the way I feel about myself now, and it's almost impossible because I am so used to looking in a mirror and seeing a larger version of myself. I love myself despite the excess weight and minor things I'd like to change about my appearance. (I'm lookin' at you nose and bushy eyebrows.) I've always had good sense of who I am outside of my weight, and despite my need and want to change my weight, I have always been confident in myself. I was born with my confidence and I will carry this confidence with me for the rest of my life.
I keep mentioning how I'm not in this alone, and I truly know that I am not, especially when it comes to my sister Melissa who I want to brag about for just a second. Without her I would have given up a long time ago. She was the one who initially started this whole thing, and went out and bought our groceries. She is continually buying the healthy food, even when I beg and plead for candy, she kindly reminds me that it may not be the wisest choice for me to have. Melissa has lost 25.5lbs and I have never been so proud of her in my entire life. She's transforming before my very eyes, and in all positive ways. Melissa has always been someone I looked up to, and wanted to be like, and now more than ever I feel that way. She is the steady rock in all this, and I'm thankful that I have her. She has been there to commiserate with me when my stomach is an empty pit and no matter what I eat, it will never be full again. She has also been here to rejoice with me in my losses. Together we're gaining so much more, and our bond as sisters is becoming stronger. I love her infinitely, and I am excited to continue this path with her.
I always like to joke than when I do reach my goal weight, I'll be the size of a small child. While that is untrue, I am content enough to know that thus far, I have lost the weight of a small toddler. And by the time I am through, I will have lost enough weight that it equals out to another human. I don't look at my life in days or weeks or months, I look at my life in minutes and hours; and I don't look at my weight in pounds and percentages, I look at my weight in rewards and I see a manicure and pedicure in my very near future.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Motivation.
I don't feel very fabulous today. In fact, I haven't been feeling fabulous the last week. I don't know if it's because I was sad that my brother left, or if it's because I feel as if I was getting sick. For whatever the reasons were, I haven't felt like myself in a week.
Whenever I feel the slow creep of depression cast over me like a cloud, I lose all motivation and interest in everything and everyone I love. I start to doubt all the positives in my life, and slowly turn them into negatives. The fatigue steep in my bones like tea, and I am unable to move for even the most basic needs. Using the bathroom is a task that requires a pep talk, and turning over in my bed makes my bones rattle and scream out. It's not an unusual thing, and I know I'm not the only person in the world to feel this way; but when it's happening to me, I feel like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Very isolated and alone. I know, truly and deeply, that I am not alone, and that I never have been nor do I need to every worry that I will be; but during times like this it's hard to remember that. It's hard to find the motivation to pull myself out of this.
The problem this time isn't unhealthy food. It's my unhealthy habits surrounding food. For the past week, I have either eaten too much or too little of a meal, and drank barely any water. My hydration level was low, and therefore effecting every facet of my daily life. Like I said, the basic tasks are the hardest to find motivation for. Whereas before, I would find reasons to get up and move from my desk, from my couch, from my bed; I found none. Wherever I plopped myself down was where I was until I needed to move.
This week I decided that no matter how unmotivated I feel and how much sadness I feel in my tendons and my sinews, I will do things each day to improve my life. Whether that be writing this blog, drinking more water or excerising, I will do it. Old habits are hard to kill, but I have to start somewhere.
Today I have eaten all my meals and snacks and despite feeling hungry for more, I have not given in, and tried to barter with co-workers for more. I have drank 3 bottles of water, and I have plans to go walking tonight with Melissa and Pulito. I'm attempting to put mountains and miles between my depression and me, and the only way I can do that is if I fight instead of accepting this as fate. Depression is a lonely hell, but I'm not willing to stay there.
Whenever I feel the slow creep of depression cast over me like a cloud, I lose all motivation and interest in everything and everyone I love. I start to doubt all the positives in my life, and slowly turn them into negatives. The fatigue steep in my bones like tea, and I am unable to move for even the most basic needs. Using the bathroom is a task that requires a pep talk, and turning over in my bed makes my bones rattle and scream out. It's not an unusual thing, and I know I'm not the only person in the world to feel this way; but when it's happening to me, I feel like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Very isolated and alone. I know, truly and deeply, that I am not alone, and that I never have been nor do I need to every worry that I will be; but during times like this it's hard to remember that. It's hard to find the motivation to pull myself out of this.
The problem this time isn't unhealthy food. It's my unhealthy habits surrounding food. For the past week, I have either eaten too much or too little of a meal, and drank barely any water. My hydration level was low, and therefore effecting every facet of my daily life. Like I said, the basic tasks are the hardest to find motivation for. Whereas before, I would find reasons to get up and move from my desk, from my couch, from my bed; I found none. Wherever I plopped myself down was where I was until I needed to move.
This week I decided that no matter how unmotivated I feel and how much sadness I feel in my tendons and my sinews, I will do things each day to improve my life. Whether that be writing this blog, drinking more water or excerising, I will do it. Old habits are hard to kill, but I have to start somewhere.
Today I have eaten all my meals and snacks and despite feeling hungry for more, I have not given in, and tried to barter with co-workers for more. I have drank 3 bottles of water, and I have plans to go walking tonight with Melissa and Pulito. I'm attempting to put mountains and miles between my depression and me, and the only way I can do that is if I fight instead of accepting this as fate. Depression is a lonely hell, but I'm not willing to stay there.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Tug and pull.
For almost the entirety of my adult life, my Grandma and Auntie have been trying to convince me to get gastric bypass surgery or something similar. This isn't presented in the form of tenderness and well being, it's presented in the form of them giving me an age that if I don't die by, they would be greatly shocked. I am a stubborn person, and each time I am told that I must immediately call my doctor and schedule my pre-op appointment, I become more firm in my decision to not have the surgery.
I have considered the option of weight loss surgery, and I've made lists detailing all the pros and cons I could think of. I researched online success stories and horror stories. The horror stories stuck with me much more due to my severe hypochondria. I weighed my options (and myself multiple times trying to decide if I really needed it), and I consulted a few friends and asked their advice. I once worked with a woman who had gastric bypass done and she told me she regretted it because of the excess skin she was unable to get rid of. She said medically she felt great, and had never felt better about herself except when it came to the excess skin.
I have always flipped flopped on the idea of surgery. I've already had surgery on my stomach to remove my gall bladder back in January 2012. The doctors weren't sure if I was going to be cut open or I was able to have a laparoscopic procedure. The reason was that I was so big, and they weren't sure which would be safer. In the end they were able to perform the surgery done laparoscopically, and I came out of it with three scars the size of ants. I was so relived that I wouldn't have a giant scar that would prevent me from fulfilling my true destiny: bikini model. Kidding, I'm totally becoming a mermaid. How will I ever find my perfect merman if I have the scar the size of a toddler's arm?
Another reason why I decided against weight loss surgery is because if I have surgery and it's a quick fix with minimal effort (because let's face it, my full name is Sarah I'll Do It Tomorrow With Minimal Effort Tompkins), then what am I accomplishing? Yes, I will have a healthier body; but will I have a healthier mindset? For me personally, I know I wouldn't. I wouldn't be working through my issues with food. As much as I don't want to admit it, I definitely have issues with foods. I frequently feel the tug of what I know I should eat and the pull of what I shouldn't. It's a never ending tug of war, and more often than not the food I shouldn't eat wins.
I'm not saying that weight loss surgery is a negative thing; but for me I need to discover which emotions are attached to food and how I can live my life without relying on food for emotional support. If there comes a time when after eating healthy and working out, I'm still failing; I'll consult my doctor.
One of my main goals this week has been trying to maintain awareness as to which emotions make me want to binge eat. And I try and find healthy distractions to prevent that from happening. It doesn't always work, but I know that eventually I will learn to replace my comfort foods with comfort activities. There will always be a tug and pull and one side will always win out, but as long as the healthy side wins more often than not, I'll be satisfied.
I have considered the option of weight loss surgery, and I've made lists detailing all the pros and cons I could think of. I researched online success stories and horror stories. The horror stories stuck with me much more due to my severe hypochondria. I weighed my options (and myself multiple times trying to decide if I really needed it), and I consulted a few friends and asked their advice. I once worked with a woman who had gastric bypass done and she told me she regretted it because of the excess skin she was unable to get rid of. She said medically she felt great, and had never felt better about herself except when it came to the excess skin.
I have always flipped flopped on the idea of surgery. I've already had surgery on my stomach to remove my gall bladder back in January 2012. The doctors weren't sure if I was going to be cut open or I was able to have a laparoscopic procedure. The reason was that I was so big, and they weren't sure which would be safer. In the end they were able to perform the surgery done laparoscopically, and I came out of it with three scars the size of ants. I was so relived that I wouldn't have a giant scar that would prevent me from fulfilling my true destiny: bikini model. Kidding, I'm totally becoming a mermaid. How will I ever find my perfect merman if I have the scar the size of a toddler's arm?
Another reason why I decided against weight loss surgery is because if I have surgery and it's a quick fix with minimal effort (because let's face it, my full name is Sarah I'll Do It Tomorrow With Minimal Effort Tompkins), then what am I accomplishing? Yes, I will have a healthier body; but will I have a healthier mindset? For me personally, I know I wouldn't. I wouldn't be working through my issues with food. As much as I don't want to admit it, I definitely have issues with foods. I frequently feel the tug of what I know I should eat and the pull of what I shouldn't. It's a never ending tug of war, and more often than not the food I shouldn't eat wins.
I'm not saying that weight loss surgery is a negative thing; but for me I need to discover which emotions are attached to food and how I can live my life without relying on food for emotional support. If there comes a time when after eating healthy and working out, I'm still failing; I'll consult my doctor.
One of my main goals this week has been trying to maintain awareness as to which emotions make me want to binge eat. And I try and find healthy distractions to prevent that from happening. It doesn't always work, but I know that eventually I will learn to replace my comfort foods with comfort activities. There will always be a tug and pull and one side will always win out, but as long as the healthy side wins more often than not, I'll be satisfied.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Rinse, and repeat.
I'm finally back, but unfortunately not better than ever. It's been awhile, and a lot has happened. All good things for my happiness, but not good for my waistline.
Our younger brother Michael came to visit on July 10, and Melissa and I were over the moon. Due to us living on opposite ends of the East Coast, we haven't seen much of each other in three years. He flew up on a Wednesday, and we went camping on Thursday until Sunday.
I knew it was going to be tough while camping not to fall prey to s'mores and hot dogs and alcohol and soda. I failed miserably. It was as if I was about to hibernate for Winter and I needed to consume all the food that I could. I had like 18 s'mores over the course of 4 days, and the worst part was when on Friday morning I woke up and ate a s'more without cooking it and with morning dew on it. I was hungry, there was no fire and I let the hunger and lack of survival skills get the best of me.
Over the next three days, I ate and drank to my hearts content. I did try and do some exercises, like taking a walk around the whole campground and swimming in the pool. I tried to not sit as much, and stand more, but I still ate like I would never see food again. I drank alcohol and soda. I basically had no water in my system the whole weekend. I'm surprised I don't have a kidney stone right now. Through it all, I vowed to start anew on Monday.
Monday rolled around, and I tried hard to get back on track, but I had soda and ate lunch out. I neglected water, and greeted sugar and caffeine like a friend I hadn't seen in years rather than a month. The pattern continued all the way through Saturday. My mind when it comes to food is ever rationalizing, and I viewed it as this was my vacation as much as it was his. Which is an excuse that only yields negative results. I stepped on the scale and gained back 4 pounds. So rather than being 14 pounds down, I'm back to 10 pounds. The weight loss was moving slow before this brief gorge on all the food, and now it's all but halted. As disappointed as I am in myself, I find myself more motivated to continue than anything.
It's a lot easier to restart today than I thought it would be. I was convinced that I would be miserable and hungry all day. That my body would reject the idea of life without sugar again. Instead, I find myself full and satisfied after eating. I find myself not just needing water, but wanting it instead. I'm not craving candy, but fruits and vegetables. I still have energy, and the general feeling of heaviness and unwell that creeped back up is starting to ebb a little. I look forward to when it's completely gone, and I'm back to feeling how I was about two weeks ago.
As I sit here with juice from the plum I was just eating all over me, I'm reminded of all the goals I have. Namely the 5k in just a few short months. But I also really want a manicure and pedicure, and to book my dream vacation. In order to do well and keep pace with my friend Gianna and my new friend Eva, I'll have to continue on a healthy lifestyle. If I want to ever see Iceland before I die, I have to lose the weight and become healthy.
I have one of the biggest support systems I've ever seen, and I'm grateful every day for you all. It's hard to be an overweight sister to a skinny brother, but I'm grateful that he doesn't judge me.And I understand that in life there will always be fumbles and people skinnier than I am. I also understand that those aren't excuses and I won't always do what is best for myself. I'll just have to cleanse myself of the negative decisions and repeat the positive ones, but at least I know I have people who will try and guide me back to the right path in a loving way. I hardly think about my future, and I prefer to live in the moment, but for the first time; I'm starting to view my future as a long one. Filled with my friends and family, but most importantly, my health. And I can't wait.
Here's me and my handsome brother, Michael:
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Over the next three days, I ate and drank to my hearts content. I did try and do some exercises, like taking a walk around the whole campground and swimming in the pool. I tried to not sit as much, and stand more, but I still ate like I would never see food again. I drank alcohol and soda. I basically had no water in my system the whole weekend. I'm surprised I don't have a kidney stone right now. Through it all, I vowed to start anew on Monday.
Monday rolled around, and I tried hard to get back on track, but I had soda and ate lunch out. I neglected water, and greeted sugar and caffeine like a friend I hadn't seen in years rather than a month. The pattern continued all the way through Saturday. My mind when it comes to food is ever rationalizing, and I viewed it as this was my vacation as much as it was his. Which is an excuse that only yields negative results. I stepped on the scale and gained back 4 pounds. So rather than being 14 pounds down, I'm back to 10 pounds. The weight loss was moving slow before this brief gorge on all the food, and now it's all but halted. As disappointed as I am in myself, I find myself more motivated to continue than anything.
It's a lot easier to restart today than I thought it would be. I was convinced that I would be miserable and hungry all day. That my body would reject the idea of life without sugar again. Instead, I find myself full and satisfied after eating. I find myself not just needing water, but wanting it instead. I'm not craving candy, but fruits and vegetables. I still have energy, and the general feeling of heaviness and unwell that creeped back up is starting to ebb a little. I look forward to when it's completely gone, and I'm back to feeling how I was about two weeks ago.
As I sit here with juice from the plum I was just eating all over me, I'm reminded of all the goals I have. Namely the 5k in just a few short months. But I also really want a manicure and pedicure, and to book my dream vacation. In order to do well and keep pace with my friend Gianna and my new friend Eva, I'll have to continue on a healthy lifestyle. If I want to ever see Iceland before I die, I have to lose the weight and become healthy.
I have one of the biggest support systems I've ever seen, and I'm grateful every day for you all. It's hard to be an overweight sister to a skinny brother, but I'm grateful that he doesn't judge me.And I understand that in life there will always be fumbles and people skinnier than I am. I also understand that those aren't excuses and I won't always do what is best for myself. I'll just have to cleanse myself of the negative decisions and repeat the positive ones, but at least I know I have people who will try and guide me back to the right path in a loving way. I hardly think about my future, and I prefer to live in the moment, but for the first time; I'm starting to view my future as a long one. Filled with my friends and family, but most importantly, my health. And I can't wait.
Here's me and my handsome brother, Michael:
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Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Sweet thaaaanggg.
I have the world's biggest sweet tooth. It's a fact, don't bother challenging me on this, because you won't win. I have very childlike taste buds. I am always craving candy, milkshakes and ice cream; and when I go long periods of time without them I turn into a fussy baby.
Which is why when I stopped drinking soda, eating candy and drinking milkshakes, I was miserable for the first week. I had a headache that eventually went away. I felt weak, and weepy. At 3 am on the first night, I was so ravenous that I seriously debated on whether or not I could sneak out and get a milkshake from McDonald's. I talked myself off a ledge, and just chugged a bottle of water and cried myself to sleep.
The next two days were worse. I felt like I was an extra on The Walking Dead. I walked slow but still found a way to stumble into things. I felt like I was in a bad Stephen King novel (you know the one) because I was stuck in a fog and I couldn't get out. I was snapping at everyone, and taking offense to everything people said to me. I had let myself get so addicted to sugar that three days without it felt like I was lifeless.
After a couple of days my body readjusted. My headache diminished, and my zombie like gait disappeared. I allowed myself 2 teaspoons of sugar and 2 teaspoons of creamer in my coffee each morning, so I could slowly wean myself off of sugar.
When I go into a store, my first thought isn't which candy I will buy, and when I am at a friend's house, I no longer reach for soda. I make sure I carry my water bottle with me wherever I go. After 12 years of insomnia and only sleeping an hour or two at night, I am able to sleep five or more. My body no longer misses sugar.
It was Melissa's birthday yesterday, and last week we had gone out with a few coworkers for dinner and then to her house for dessert. There is where I reunited with my fickle friend. Cake. Icebox cake. The best of all cakes, and I said I would allow myself a piece because after all this was a lifestyle change and I am going to have to learn to live with temptation and not go overboard. I had a piece, and after that, I sat staring longingly at it. Amy offered me another piece, and I couldn't resist. I rationalized that I had been so low on my calorie count all week that I was fine and I could have that second piece. I regretted it, and I vowed to never rationalize like that again. Everyone else could live their lives with one piece, so could I.
That was until yesterday. Our coworker had brought in a cake for Melissa, and she said it was low calorie and low fat. I swore up and down to myself that I would only allow myself one piece. But then I tasted it and I knew I wanted another piece. So the way I rationalized it to myself was that I had the smallest piece out of everyone and it wouldn't kill me to have another small piece. So I did. And then I had another small piece. I didn't even realize what I was doing at the time.
Three pieces of cake. I felt disgusting, and like everyone was staring at the fatty who had three pieces. (When in reality, my other coworkers had three as well.) I swore to myself never again.
And yeah, I might have had two pieces of chocolate pudding whipped cream pie last night for Melissa's birthday. But I didn't go back for more when everyone was asleep, or this morning before I left for work. Which is a big deal for me, because I normally would have.
I feel like a fussy baby today because of all the sugar I had yesterday, and the decreased amount of sugar today. But I have to remind myself that if I wanted to, I could have eaten that whole pie myself and I didn't. I might trip and fall, and eat too much cake, but I'll always get back on track. I love my body now, but I'm going to love my body much more once I'm healthier.
I have consulted my doctor, and all the nurses at my office, and they have all agreed that I am doing this the right way. My doctor let me know about the possible side effects and different ways to combat them. I'm trying to be as healthy as possible, and understand my body much more than I did before. My level of well being is increasing as the weight is decreasing, and I can't wait to see where I go from here.
Which is why when I stopped drinking soda, eating candy and drinking milkshakes, I was miserable for the first week. I had a headache that eventually went away. I felt weak, and weepy. At 3 am on the first night, I was so ravenous that I seriously debated on whether or not I could sneak out and get a milkshake from McDonald's. I talked myself off a ledge, and just chugged a bottle of water and cried myself to sleep.
The next two days were worse. I felt like I was an extra on The Walking Dead. I walked slow but still found a way to stumble into things. I felt like I was in a bad Stephen King novel (you know the one) because I was stuck in a fog and I couldn't get out. I was snapping at everyone, and taking offense to everything people said to me. I had let myself get so addicted to sugar that three days without it felt like I was lifeless.
After a couple of days my body readjusted. My headache diminished, and my zombie like gait disappeared. I allowed myself 2 teaspoons of sugar and 2 teaspoons of creamer in my coffee each morning, so I could slowly wean myself off of sugar.
When I go into a store, my first thought isn't which candy I will buy, and when I am at a friend's house, I no longer reach for soda. I make sure I carry my water bottle with me wherever I go. After 12 years of insomnia and only sleeping an hour or two at night, I am able to sleep five or more. My body no longer misses sugar.
It was Melissa's birthday yesterday, and last week we had gone out with a few coworkers for dinner and then to her house for dessert. There is where I reunited with my fickle friend. Cake. Icebox cake. The best of all cakes, and I said I would allow myself a piece because after all this was a lifestyle change and I am going to have to learn to live with temptation and not go overboard. I had a piece, and after that, I sat staring longingly at it. Amy offered me another piece, and I couldn't resist. I rationalized that I had been so low on my calorie count all week that I was fine and I could have that second piece. I regretted it, and I vowed to never rationalize like that again. Everyone else could live their lives with one piece, so could I.
That was until yesterday. Our coworker had brought in a cake for Melissa, and she said it was low calorie and low fat. I swore up and down to myself that I would only allow myself one piece. But then I tasted it and I knew I wanted another piece. So the way I rationalized it to myself was that I had the smallest piece out of everyone and it wouldn't kill me to have another small piece. So I did. And then I had another small piece. I didn't even realize what I was doing at the time.
Three pieces of cake. I felt disgusting, and like everyone was staring at the fatty who had three pieces. (When in reality, my other coworkers had three as well.) I swore to myself never again.
And yeah, I might have had two pieces of chocolate pudding whipped cream pie last night for Melissa's birthday. But I didn't go back for more when everyone was asleep, or this morning before I left for work. Which is a big deal for me, because I normally would have.
I feel like a fussy baby today because of all the sugar I had yesterday, and the decreased amount of sugar today. But I have to remind myself that if I wanted to, I could have eaten that whole pie myself and I didn't. I might trip and fall, and eat too much cake, but I'll always get back on track. I love my body now, but I'm going to love my body much more once I'm healthier.
I have consulted my doctor, and all the nurses at my office, and they have all agreed that I am doing this the right way. My doctor let me know about the possible side effects and different ways to combat them. I'm trying to be as healthy as possible, and understand my body much more than I did before. My level of well being is increasing as the weight is decreasing, and I can't wait to see where I go from here.
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