I've done it once...
First, let me say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to two of my favourite EPers, Andrea and Angel! I hope you both have a wonderful day. You are inspirational people.
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Moving onto more normal things...or actually, not normal at all...I lost weight this week!
Really.
Just goes to show you don't have to be perfect, as I didn't stick to my plan properly except for yesterday. I didn't let going over my allowance be an excuse to 'start again tomorrow' though, and that's what's made the difference.
Because let's face it, 'start again tomorrow' sounds all virtuous and determined, but what it really means is 'ooh, that means I can have an entire chocolate cake now'.
I can pinpoint exactly what's made the difference this week.
I've rejoined the WW message boards. They help me keep focused on what I want, they add an element of fun to the whole thing, and they give me something to do in the evenings. I find it hard to relax, you see. Unless I am eating, I can't watch tv or read because it isn't active enough. I have to go clean. And I'd rather eat than clean. But typing distracts me.
There were also some very wise words - or really, kick-up-the-ass words - from TatumsMom yesterday (sorry, I can't do links!), which definitely got me through the evening without succumbing to the lure of the newly-stocked fridge. (It probably also helped that the most exciting thing it contained was plain yogurt.)
The main reason, though, was that a couple of days ago, I once again hit Rock Bottom.
Oh, it's a lovely place to be. Sobbing in your bed. With unbrushed teeth.
Ok, no, it's awful.
But for me, there is something about getting to the point where I just feel totally, irredeemably out of control that is really...nice. Hopeful. Affirming.
There is nothing I can do about my eating, so why bother?
You need to understand, here, I am a perfectionist. A Super-Perfectionist (perhaps I should have an outfit. That might make it less cripplingly painful).
Every last thing in my life needs to be carefully planned. I have it all written down in a little folder 
.
Eating, work, money, housework. I even have every recipe I know how to make written down in a list. With sub-headings, naturally.
I have to stick to my plans, 100 per cent, to feel remotely OK about myself.
Of course, trying to do all this is generally unsuccessful anyway, and it causes me no end of stress - which leads me to overeat.
I then feel awful and go to bed, but the next morning, after about an hour of misery while I wonder why God has switched on the big light again, I usually manage to dust myself off and promise I am going right back on my plan - or, preferably, an even stricter one. A regime. That means I can get out my eraser and change the rules in my little folder.
Deep down, I don't really believe it's going to work, but feeling 'on track' means I can put my misery behind me. Besides, I don't see any other options.
There have been only two occasions in my life when I couldn't manage to scrape myself back up like this. When I really just got too tired to do it anymore. Exhausted from month upon month of 'today will be the day's ending in binges and desperation. Sick of planning to shed all the weight by a certain time, then watching, helplessly, as a small regain (which seemed astronomical at the time) spiralled out of control.
Two occasions when I just couldn't bolster myself up to get back on the rollercoaster. So I didn't bother. I told myself I. Could. Not. Do. It., sat back, and waited for the inevitable end (you know - 900 pounds, dead, chewed by animals 
).
Those two times were...the morning I first started losing weight, in May 2007, and another morning a few days ago.
You see something weird here, right? I didn't suddenly eat my way to 900 pounds. Because as soon as I admitted I couldn't cope with this, that my plans weren't working, I started losing weight.
It's not about simply 'not dieting'. For me, that's just another diet - because I still care too much. It's about...giving up.
Now, this is starting to sound like Overeaters' Anonymous. And even though I am a Christian, I don't go in for all that stuff. Or, I believe it works, and I believe religion has a lot to do with it...but I also believe it has much to do with good, old-fashioned psychology 
.
Once I didn't feel I had to follow a plan, it became a lot less stressful.
I am a peculiar soul. Once I stop keeping a budget...I spend less. As soon as I abandon my cleaning rota...the house looks better.
And, perversely, it is only when dieting is not that important to me that I lose weight.
4.5 pounds this week to be exact .
So while I may be a Very Sick Bunny, probably a Completely Certifiable If She Had The Cash For Therapy Bunny, today I am a pretty happy bunny too .
Love Rach xxx 
