Sometimes when you feel hungry, you may really be thirsty...and other horror stories
Well, I am not often wrong. In fact it almost never happens, as my husband would tell you .
But let me hold up my hands and admit the error of my ways.
Whenever I read that treasured gem of slimming magazines everywhere - 'when you think you are hungry, you may really be thirsty' - I have a tendency to roll my eyes. Hmm, I think. Smacks of desperation to me. Like I can't tell the difference.
Well I have discovered it's not so much that I can tell the difference, it's that I am never thirsty.
I pretty much always drink plenty and am well-hydrated.
Well today I had a doctor's appointment at 10am. And I knew I didn't lose much weight since the last time I was there.
I didn't feel in the mood to handle a lecture about this (translation: I had shocking PMS and didn't want a very skinny man's blood on my conscience)...so this morning, in a sterling effort at damage limitation, I donned my lightest clothes, ate only a cereal bar and had one mug of water - compared to the couple of pints (at least) I would normally have by that hour.
Stupid, yes. Effective, no, not particularly.
All went well at the doc's. No killing, not even a bit of minor violence. Somebody give me a gold star.
I came home and ate lunch. And I was still hungry.
I resisted for absolutely ages. Ok, so it was 20 minutes, but by that point my own stomach was trying to EAT me, guys. It was like something out of a horror movie. To make it worse, the low blood sugar had seriously impeded the workings of my mind. If it had been a horror flick, I would have been the one running up the stairs.
What I am trying to say is that what happened next was clearly not my fault...
I ate some taco shells (?) and a huge egg mayo sandwich and then (despite the fact I was definitely full by that point) proceeded to cram into my mouth almost a whole bar of my husband's chocolate. It is that 85 per cent cocoa stuff, so any more than one piece is truly vile. I must have been hungry.
Except I wasn't. The Revenge of the Killer Stomach feeling didn't go away (I don't blame it. If I were my stomach, I would hate me too). Even luckier for me, the gnawing feeling was soon joined by some delightful waves of nausea. Are you feeling sorry for me yet ?
It was 10 minutes before I finally figured it out (told you my mind was shot). I wasn't hungry - I was extremely thirsty. Three large glasses of water took care of that sharpish - although predictably the nausea is still hanging around.
So now...I have no calories left for dinner. I will have something to eat anyway, because my primary aim is not to allow that extra meal to give me an excuse to binge all evening - and trying to skip dinner would put me on the fast-track to a huge overeating session.
And I am not kidding myself. It would be easy to do. I am always looking for an excuse to binge. I enjoy it.
Well, I don't, but after so many years of doing it for entertainment, relaxation, anything really, my heart insists on believing it is the best thing in the world until JUST after I take the last bite of Chinese takeaway.
I will just have to override the urge (with my now super-sugar-powered mind).
So the moral of the story...
...sometimes when you think you are hungry, you may really be thirsty (and no one likes a know-it-all).
Unusual post title...and I mean it. We may never lose this weight we are so desperate to shed.
Before you stop reading, no, I am not trying to have us all start our week crying into our cereal. I mean this as a positive statement.
Why? Well, when we start a weight loss plan, or one of many 'fresh starts', we often try to trick ourselves. This time, we insist, we are GOING to do this. We work hard on creating a new plan, often writing it down, making extravagant promises about how we will behave. We think about it in great detail, and set the moment when we will begin.
We spend all this time planning - but don't allow ourselves to think about what it will be like when we are an hour or two, a day or a month into the new regime. It is almost as though we believe planning is the hard part - that actually carrying out our intentions is going to be easy. If we start out determined, we reason, we will be able to overcome those little thoughts of rebellion that threaten to send us off course.
When we think rationally, we know this isn't true. In fact, even as we concoct our latest plans, a small, smothered part of our minds anticipates failure. But we keep thinking this way because we want to believe, after so many crash-and-burns, that we are going to do everything just right this time. We are desperate. We HAVE to do this, we CAN'T go off track, we HAVE to lose this weight.
Well, the reality is no, we don't have to lose this weight. In fact, we may not. Because we don't HAVE to stick to a diet. We can eat absolutely whatever we like at any time.
The reality of life as a human being is that we can't make a decision and then cling to it mindlessly. We aren't robots - our minds are constantly active and we have to keep making choices as we go along. What we might see as 'self-sabotage' can actually be our minds' natural rebellion against being told we 'have' to do something.
So even if we bought a party dress two sizes too small, and paid in advance for six months of Weight Watchers, we still don't HAVE to stick to our diet plan today. We don't have to stick to any diet plan. And we can't force our minds to believe that when the going gets tough.
If we create a rigid diet regime, and then cling to it for dear life because we 'have' to, we live in a state of constant stress. No one is perfect - so it is only a matter of time before we will come off the rails and crash spectacularly. We don't know what to do then - we can't imagine a future being, God help us, FAT - so we create a new plan and start all over again...and the same thing happens.
No wonder. We are denying our basic nature as human beings - so this is never, never going to work in the long term.
So how is this good news? Because while this is scary, it is also liberating.
When we accept we don't have to stick to a diet plan, it becomes about choice. We can make a healthy decision about eating or exercise because we want to. And when we want to do something, it becomes so much more achievable.
I am not saying we shouldn't commit to losing weight. Of course we should. But we don't have to plan for the big picture. We can look at each moment as a chance to decide what we want. At any time, we can try out a healthy choice. It doesn't stress us out - because by choosing a nutritious breakfast, we aren't saying lunch has to be healthy. The ability to make these small choices can cause us so much pain - but can be our greatest gift as human beings. We can look at our lives one moment at a time, making the best decision we are able at that moment. When we know we may never do this, we can no longer kid ourselves about what we do and do not do. And by focusing on what we want, not what we feel we 'have' to do, it becomes so much easier to make the choices that will make us happiest.
We know we don't have to be 'perfect' - and are in fact never going to be. When we make an unhealthy choice, we can see it for what it is - an isolated incident, part of a normal life..
We are never going to fall off the wagon, because there is no wagon, there is just life - a series of choices. And if we want to lose weight, we know anyone can work on making a few of those choices more healthy. It isn't very hard.
We live in a world that demands perfection, where 'failure' is so often a dirty little secret brushed under the carpet. We are bombarded all day long with television and magazine images of perfection, of how life is supposed to be. We buy slimming magazines that promote exactly the sort of mindless, robotic, unnatural weight loss plan described above - and tell us it is the sure route to health and happiness.
When we accept that way of losing weight just isn't possible in the long term, we realise we are not 'failures' - we are normal. We can break the cycle. Never again do we have to wonder 'can I do this this time?'
Firstly, apologies that I have been AWOL for a few days - I have been sick with a sore throat, fever and general listlessness. I couldn't be bothered to wash my own hair so I sure couldn't be bothered to post on here .
Well...the scales aren't moving. Cue me getting straight on the phone to my ever-faithful therapist...sorry, I mean Domino's. Or at least normally.
In an effort to avoid that this time, I took my measurements. And I have reached a new low of 32.5 inches on my waist.
I started at 38, so getting to this point is fantastic. Because according to experts, 32.5 inches is (just) into the 'healthy' range for female waist measurements. Anything above that (allowing for differences in build I presume) is considered to present a higher chance of heart disease, diabetes...well the world's your oyster really. And I was there for a long time.
Of course, I am taking this measurement with a grain of salt. Because I am still 25 pounds overweight.
Which brings me to my main point...the amazing benefits of regular exercise.
The last time I had a 32.5 inch waist, I weighed 25 pounds less than I do now. In fact, I was at the very top end of my BMI 20-25 'healthy' range. Top end of BMI = highest acceptable waist measurement. Makes sense, right?
So why is my waist so much smaller now than it 'should' be? Well, the only thing I can think of that would account for such a huge change is nine months of (pretty) regular exercise.
Now I haven't done anything crazy. I know if I had tried to go straight from 0-60 with exercise, I would have collapsed into a pile of Doritos and the only working out I would have done for the next six months would have been 4 million reps of the plate-to-mouth curl.
The key for me has been simply to develop something of a routine - starting with walks, moving to low impact aerobics, eventually toning, high impact aerobics, dance, hiking, Pilates and even the odd bit of jogging. Not all at once, obviously.
Many weeks I don't do much, some weeks I do nothing at all, other weeks I do more - but I never go that long without doing SOMETHING, however small. And that is what has made the difference.
I still want to reduce my body fat, but I am really pleased with my new measurement. So much so that I haven't felt the need to call Domino's yet. Mind you, it is only 9.30am .
I was searching in my memory drawer for old photos this morning and came across a diary I kept when I went to Ghana for six months in college, four years ago.
I found it interesting to read back on but also depressing...
1. I was such a SWEET little thing. So unable to say a bad word about anybody, so full of principles. Where did I go?
2. I found this passage: 'Today was last day of changing eating habits for a week. However, was ravenous. Should have held off but instead could not hold off eating and consumed:
1 small bag plantain crisps
1 small bottle pineapple juice
1 chocolate ice cream
1 huge plate fried rice and spicy sauce
1 small chocolate ice cream
1 1/4 v small pizza slices
1 banana muffin
1 v small chocolate biscuit.
'Hmm. But overall over the whole week I am pretty sure I have eaten just less than necessary. Can't actually believe just wrote down what food I ate in a day! Am aiming, though, to lose half an inch off my 32 (aagh!) inch waist each week, so in eight weeks I'll be back down to a size 8-10 (US 4-6), instead of a 12 (US 8) squeezing into too-tight stuff! If I don't do it now, I will end up very demotivated.'
Well, looking back with four years' perspective, this diary brought up a lot of feelings, most of them not very comfortable. Sure, I enjoyed reminiscing. I laughed at some of it - what I did and thought in Ghana, my belief that I could lose half an inch a week from my waist, the terrible nutritional balance in that food, the 'aagh!' at those small waist measurements, the idea that writing down everything I ate in a day was weird (welcome to EP guys!).
But, and it is a big but, there was also the unsettling realisation that nothing has really changed. I have spent the last four years still obsessed with my weight - just the measurements have been getting bigger.
That 'last chance saloon' feeling - if I don't do it now, will I ever? - has haunted me the whole time, and I have never realised I am following the same pattern over and over again. Life has been measured in 'can I lose this by this date?' (but I rarely have). Four years ago in a diary, and still today, there is the conviction my life won't be OK until I have lost weight...yet I have not reached my goal.
I never knew. All the planning to lose weight made me feel better - made me feel like I was taking action when really I was just buying more and more pretty little notebooks and 25 different coloured pens and a couple of dancing monkeys so I could make 'final new start' food diaries. That illusion of progress has blocked real change.
I realise how much of my life has been consumed by this. I mean, I know this is a small passage from the diary, but...I was in West Africa at college and I was worrying about my eating? What about the opportunities, the fun, the friendships?
I loved being in Ghana and still look back on it as one of the happiest periods of my life so far - but how many chances did I pass up on? How many have I passed up on since? How many am I still passing up on?
OK, so I am being hard on myself. I have made progress. I have learned a heck of a lot since I wrote that...about how to eat, and exercise, and how to be realistic about goals. Life is about learning...not getting it all right first try.
Today, my focus is on changing my habits more than my weight. I no longer want to lose weight but still eat badly - I relish eating healthily and, even if I don't always manage it, I hold that as my primary goal.
But, learning journey or not, I only get one life. I have spent most of my teenage years and 20s obsessed with the same things, yet I have done nothing except expend a load of energy uselessly running in the same circle a thousand times.
I was tiny when I began dieting - it was trying to diet that made me overweight. Food took on a forbidden lure - and finally my common refrain 'I am fat' became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I have spent the last 15 years obsessing over my weight....and for 13 and a half of them I wasn't clinically overweight. What a terrible waste! Clearly this is about self-esteem. I do not value myself if I do not feel physically attractive.
So what have I learned from all this? Very possibly nothing at all . I can't resolve 'I am going to do this now' - that clearly hasn't been working too well for me.
I guess I just have to be happy with the progress I am making - and try to get on with life, overweight or not.
I am doing better at that. I buy pretty clothes in the right sizes and wear makeup even now. I get on with pursuing my dreams as much as I can.
Perhaps I can learn it is more important to work on reclaiming some of the kindness, thoughtfulness and high moral standards of that girl four years ago - rather than her 32 inch waist (aagh! ).
This morning I opened that memories drawer to find some 'slim' pictures of myself (where clearly at the time I thought I was fat). I hoped these would motivate me to stick to my plan.
What I found, as so often in life, was so much more complex, but probably so much more valuable in the long run.
So...it is New Mini Goals time. Whoo hoo can you feel the excitement ?
Now, I know, I know, I don't do well with goals.
However, when this came to me I actually felt good about it - that it is going to work for me. I won't beat myself up if I don't make my goals...really they are just ideas.
And I am going small - nothing more than 2 weeks ahead.
So...I have 2 key dates coming up.
1. Tomorrow: doctor's appointment
This will be my first doctor's appointment at this place in a while. I have to see the nurse who will weigh me (I hate being weighed at the doctor, that is why I have changed to the British doc as they rarely do it...but this will be an exception). I THINK I lost about 10 pounds exactly since the last time I was there...bad news this was a long time ago and I don't think they will be happy with my progress. Still, this is about me and all *lamely tries to persuade self*
2. Sunday
A meal with my old therapist. I love her to bits, and I can't help but want her to think 'wow'. I was about 15 pounds heavier the last time I saw her
Yeah, yeah I realise this stuff isn't about me...stuff it I don't care.
Now I have...mini goals for February
1. Get back into those pesky 160s AND STAY THERE THIS TIME. I haven't weighed myself in a while and I suspect I shall be back in the 160s when I do weigh myself this coming Sunday. Fingers crossed!
2. Improve my body tone - I have a new workout. Now I just need to do it.
3. stop having baths rather than showers. I swear, hot baths give me zits. I need to stop cos my skin looks bad!
4. make more effort with my appearance
5. stop drinking diet caffeine free coke - just for these two weeks
Ok. Tough goals there, but manageable and I have a plan for all of them. And I should feel pretty good in 2 weeks time.
Sorry these posts have been just menus - I haven't felt too inspired to write anything else for the last couple of days. Will feel the urge soon no doubt!
B: oatmeal made with soya milk, pecans, raisins, apple
L: leftover refried bean chilli, brown rice, cheese, salsa, spinach
D: homemade turkey burger, leek and butterbean bake, carrots
S: muesli with soya milk (got to sneak a third wholegrain in there somewhere)
Drinks: water
Supplements: vitamin/mineral, fish oil, evening primrose oil
Today was a pretty good day. I woke up in pain from my Body Combat yesterday. I really didn't think I had done much so I was so proud to feel those muscles protesting when I dragged my sorry ass out of bed.
My day started (and continued, if I am being honest) with potato cakes. I bought them on a whim at the supermarket the other day because I had some butter to use up. Butter is a rare purchase in our home and I was determined to make the most of it! That package was NOT going in the bin. So breakfast was hot potato cakes with melted butter, and a new innocent smoothie - apple, honey, lemon and ginger. It was delicious.
Now *STOP PRESS* today the Cornish weather was beautiful, which inspired me to get out of the house for once. I swear it has rained every weekend for so long, and today was the most perfect day - warm enough to go out without a coat, with brilliant sunshine and an azure blue sky.
We headed into town to do some shopping, I got 3 shirts in my new size 12 (US size 8). I was mighty impressed I can tell you! I also ordered a couple pairs of lounge pants to wear at home, in a 14 (US 10). I am fed up of wearing my old ones - I love them but they swamp me and make me look bigger. The new pairs aren't even in a slimming colour - wonder what they will look like when they arrive.
We then decided to go for a walk along the coast path, instead of just talking about it as we do every weekend. We went to the coast at Mawgan Porth, a coastal village about 15 minutes drive from our house, and walked on the coastal footpath - which runs around the cliffs - for about 1h 30 minutes. Here is a picture of where we were:
Wow, it was tough. I had made the mistake of thinking that because I can do a couple of aerobics videos beginning to end, I am fit. The awareness I am not came to me rudely yesterday during Body Combat, and was only cemented by the walk today. Sadly, to get between beautiful Cornish coves on foot, you have to go UP. And down, eventually, which is somehow even worse because of the ever-encroaching worry that you might actually fall to your miserable death on the jagged rocks below.
Seriously, I really enjoyed it. Just getting some sunshine was fantastic, although the SPF 30 I had slathered on (in 60 degree heat) probably meant any health benefits were in my head.The sky was clear, the sea looked like velvet, the seagulls wheeled below us.However, it was blumming tiring and I have to admit I was extremely relieved to get back to the car park, ready to resume my usual weekend activity of lying around with the curtains pulled.
The walk was so lovely to me because it is the sort of thing I always talk about doing, and rarely actually do. I reflected on how much I have missed out on because of my anxiety. All the beautiful days on which I have pulled the curtains. The things I was so convinced I MUST do, left undone for two years because I couldn't bear the thought of not doing them perfectly, and, in the end, couldn't bear the thought of them at all. Friends never made, jobs not taken, The simple pleasures of life untasted.
I used to think if I didn't do things perfectly, there was no point. My perfectionism stood in the way of my achieving much at all. At the moment, I am doing some things and leaving the rest in the hands of God.I have finally come truly to believe that doing everything is impossible, that doing something is better than planning for everything, yet doing nothing.
Anyway...deep moment over. I am going to go and make dinner - after 5 potato cakes consumed at various points during the day, I am going to go for a healthy option of lentil bolognese and brown pasta. And some cheese...I wouldn't want to try to do TOO much .
I haven't posted for a few days, I've been busy and just getting my head back around all this diet stuff.
Diet isn't a word I have really used much on this weight loss journey. When I started, I had given up. I had finally, after a multitude of optimistic (although anxious) starts, and an equal number of crushing disappointments, come to believe I was not able to control what I ate.
So when I finally got started, I refused to think of this as anything long term. I didn't think about the future much, because the very thought this lifestyle change might have to be permanent was enough to send me running in terror to the fridge.
I think that is where I went so wrong in the last few months. I had started to think of this as a regime, to set overarching targets, not mini lifestyle goals. Worst, I allowed the dreaded dates to creep in - 'I will lose *insert arbitrary and ridiculous number of pounds* by such-and-such event - clearly an event for which it was VITAL I be svelte and gorgeous. I would surely die if I did not make it that goal for that event. Or, more likely, fall back into my old, hard fought habit of coming up with some excuse not to go (cementing my reputation as less than reliable - nothing like letting your weight wreck the REST of your life).
I began to make statements like 'I am NEVER going to binge again'. In my heart of hearts, I didn't really believe them, but they helped me keep the illusion of control in an area I haven't controlled for my entire adult life and before.
Those statements also provided a cunning opening for beguiling thoughts of bingeing. Oh, to be able to relax with food, to have a night off dieting - and living and working and suffering.
And of course, after one last blowout I shall NEVER binge again...and I shall stick perfectly to a stricter diet plan than I have EVER managed...so the binge doesn't matter because I shall be at goal in three months.....
Well, you get the picture.
So for the last while, I have just been eating. Around 2000 calories a day, healthy stuff that I like, the odd bit of less healthy stuff.
When I want to overeat, I try to think 'Do I really want to make this choice to be absolutely, overwhelmingly, desperately miserable within five minutes?' Thus far, the answer has been no. I don't trust myself that it will always be no - at least not when I am caught up in a self-destructive spiral - but that is OK, because there will be other chances to make healthy choices. And, of course, one bad day does not break a diet. Feeling so out of control of life that every other day is a bad day, just means going back to the drawing board. I signed up for this for the long haul...it is an addiction after all. I know I have to deal with my anxiety problems slowly and by trial and error...and this is the same.
Anyway...that was heavy! Today was a good day and YUMMY. Oatmeal with soya milk and pecans for brekkie. Body combat session - with regular breaks for hubbie to instruct me in the correct form for 'good mornings' (DH: 'you are arching your back' Me (wailing): 'I don't WANT to arch it' DH: 'Don't worry it must be the boobs'), for him to basically HOLD ME UP when my non-existent core muscles failed to support one push up, and finally for him to smack my ass and yell 'get up and do another' every time I collapsed gibbering onto the floor as my triceps gave way. He is going to be a GREAT personal trainer (although I hope the clients don't get the ass slapping).
We were running low on food for lunch, so I rustled up a meal I have not had in years...hot pasta topped with tuna mayo. I may not have had it for years (and I know why - it isn't nice), but the flavour brought back great memories of childhood, when it was on the menu at least three times a week. The pasta even stuck together obligingly in the pan for that true nostalgic effect.
After shopping, we had a fab dinner of gnocchi baked with spinach and tomato and mascarpone sauce, topped with lower fat mozzarella and baked. It was a recipe from the weightwatchers magazine, meant to serve four but we ate 2 servings each and it was still under 600 calories. Which I felt I deserved after the torture *sorry body combat* session.
Right...this has been extremely long, so I shall love you and leave you and hope to goodness this post doesn't get lost or I think my computer will not be long for this world.
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