My weekend was lived in treats, with an accidental emphasis on eats. I’d of course vowed to be mindful, keeping a food journal of everything I ate, on a weekend full of company and frosting. FAIL.
And yet… mama still managed to hit the outlets in search of spring. Trying on clothes is something I used to love. I want to get back to her but know it’s a long damn road, and it’s one I can’t seem to get on alone (Phil always says he’ll play along, but ends up whining and begging). I don’t want dieting and planning my next meal to be all-consuming, but I also don’t want a program I can’t stick to for life. Bottom line: I need to buy a bigger house, so I can accommodate all my fat through thin wardrobes. You know, that, or actually stick to something.
I’ve been doing this all my life, running toward and away from mirrors and dressing rooms; I know all the slapdash steps to the dance with chubbance ubbance, and it always goes like this: I begin as determined as an adolescent boy is to see a glimpse of bush. I’m dedicated. Purposeful. A plan set into motion with promises and cleaned cupboards. It works. I’m lighter. I’m in it now, really working it. Exercise I actually enjoy! Water aerobics, tennis, elliptical, walks, rowing, Wii fat. There’s a rhythm and routine, and it’s all quite manageable. Clothes fit. This is fun, think I’ll work even harder now.
And then…
Wagon, meet Off. Because somewhere in there, amid the non-food reward system of stickers, clothes, and body pampering, lives an asshole troll inside me who honestly believes in the craphouse phrase, "Everything in moderation."
NOT WITH ME, YOU ASSMUNCH! Then the slip settles in. A bit here, more there, who’ll notice. It won’t really matter. I celebrate. I eat past hunger and for every reason except for it. And we’re back to determined bush seeker mode again. The circle of life. I’m Pumbaa.
Accountability to just anyone doesn’t work. It seems I need to be held accountable by a terrifying dickhead. I know this because the only time I’ve managed to break the pattern was to visit the Diet Dictator, Dr. Dick, who’d berate me until I cried. He worked. Fear works. Weight Watchers, and the general crowd of it, doesn’t. I need someone sadistic. Someone I fear. That works. The Hate Diet works.
I need to make two scrapbook pages: one of all the clothes I want to be able to wear again, capturing a tanned poolside Cannes life I’ll never live (especially as a redhead), and another page dedicated to the people and things I hate. Photos of my cellulite, double chin, the most unattractive moments of me and my back fat. Then the people for whom I’ll get and stay thin for, just to spite them. Because the whole, "I want to be a thin healthy mother," thing sounds good, but it doesn’t kick my ass into gear the way rage does. The problem is that I only have 2 people on my list. I need to meet more assholes. Who has a mother-in-law to loan out?
COMMENTS:
Leave a Reply
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
I’m (still) up nine (dammit) pounds since a recent foray into fibroids and thyroids. I so dislike that shopping has lost it’s weekend fun, that I wonder why the manfriend and/or fling even wants to run hands over me.
And all of that sucks outloud.
I feel you.
I enjoy your blog and your photos. I agree that you looked amazing in your ultra thin photos, the time of your torment. But if you can only achieve that via drastic measures I would learn to embrace your curves (which also look great) and get rid of all of those clothes. You will never have emotional peace as they hang beside your current size.
I know how you feel! I have been battling this my whole life. I also saw Dr. Dick, as you call him and I wonder if we went to the same one. He worked, but I ended up gaining the weight back. I see a nutritionist now to try to get that “healthy lifestyle” where I change my way of eating rather than calling it a diet. It is still so hard. I was in Boston at a college reunion and ate my way through all our old favorite restaurants. And summer is quickly approaching…ahhh!
You have just summed up the last 10 years of my life PERFECTLY. And, I mean, perfectly.
Oh. My. God. I so could have written this post. When you find someone willing to loan you their bitch mother-in-law and you get finished with her, send her my way. My mother-in-law is way too nice to motivate me into spiteful weight loss.
Me too – when I’m miserable and sick and stressed beyond comprehension – I lose weight. Now, I’m all fat and happy again. Good god. Having teenage daughters, I can’t tell you how much I try to reprogram this broken record in my head – thin is beautiful, fat is bad…for I want them to have beautiful and perfect body images.
If only wine had no calories and white bread/crackers/pasta was just good for you. Gheesh – I’m not asking *that* much.
Boy, do I know what you mean! Last year this same time, I was down 13 lbs., working out 4 times a week, looking and feeling great. This year…I’ve gained back those 13 lbs, plus 2…yes, that would be 15 lbs…laying around with no motivation to workout whatsoever. Pictures of me, my every-growing turkey neck, muffin top and back fat make me sick. Being berated doesn’t help me, though…makes me run to the fridge so fast I’m a blur. Don’t know what will motivate me now, but I am SO not diggin’ this.
You have described me perfectly.
Have you thought about a cleanse? To wash you of all your cravings and start anew? I know this doesn’t keep you on track, and I get that THAT is your point here, but for some reason it has helped me stick to something. Whenever I feel that need for speed (sugar), I do a cleanse instead.
I don’t mean this to sound snide, as it probably will, but do you think you’ll ever stop trying to diet or change and just accept yourself the way you are? I look at that picture and I think you look fantastic. Or maybe I just really envy your boobs…
Then again if it weren’t your weight you worried about it would probably be something else, since that’s just sort of the human (uh, female human anyway) condition.
I had the TV on in the background the other day and I caught (another) conversation between Oprah and some new author she had on her show, and her big revelation was how she has ended her war with food and this new author has shown her the light (a ‘lightbulb’ moment, if you will)and she now ‘gets it.’ – and you could read all about it in her next issue of Oprah magazine. (oh, but of course)
I never buy Oprah magazine but I have been feeling especially frustrated with my weight and my inability to start or stick with any program, so I bought it and read the whole article.
what a load of crap.
The author talked about how you had to be kind to yourself to lose the weight, and how shaming and depriving and tormenting yourself was never gonna bring you to a place where you loved yourself. It was about letting go of all the negative talk and appreciating those great hips that birthed your children or how much your hubby loves your soft belly. gag.
The shame I feel in a bathing suit is pretty substantial. If I KNEW I had to wear one for some reason in public in the future, that is a WAY better motivator for me than just putting down the cupcake cuz I love myself and my child bearig hips too much. Puh-leeze.
swallow some oxygen for a few days. Go to one of those air bars. Have as much of it and as many times as you like.
I’m kinda wondering….what his gift ended up to be….I see it wrapped on the table there.
I was convinced he’d fall in love with the ipad once he got his hands on it. I’m learning, though. He doesn’t like it, rolls his eyes, says, “It’s nothing but a big iPhone without the G3, without the camera, and without the ability to skype or make calls.” Blah blah, but guess who’s using it, even as I type this? The Phil.
He was ANNOYED when he opened the gift, remained annoyed, but I begged him to break the seal. He’s still not very thrilled. At least the dinner and cupcakes were remarkable.
Hanging out in the living room is my evil. It’s close to the kitchen, and TV makes me want to eat. So now, I drink lots of water in my bedroom, reading magazines, watching movies, and you, you should just go play in your scrapbook room!
We’re on a regimen of public humiliation, weekly weigh-in disclosures, and daily beratings via text messaging like, “Hey, Lardy Lou! Think about taking that fat ass to the gym today?”
It’s working.
I run the same fat cycle. The last thing that worked for me was when I was engaged. The fear of wearing a big white dress in front of all those people was a real motivator. I also had the super help of my future mother-in-law, who was disturbingly fascinated by my weight and how I would look in my dress (I was a 12, got down to 8 for the wedding). I got married almost two years ago, and since then gained back the 20 pounds I’d lost. I had recently been trying to get back into the groove. I kept reminding myself that it was so very important that I be a healthy weight before getting pregnant, which I hoped to do next year. But now that my husband has told me he changed his mind and does not want kids at all, everything is upside down. I don’t know where we go from here, but I doubt the egg foo young and box of chocolates I ate for dinner last night will help.
Nothing says put down the cupcakes better, than a bikini body in saddlebags, arm cellulite and ass spillage.
Don’t give up the fight soldier, soon, you won’t be in Kansas anymore.
If all else fails, you can always have a gastric bypass.
"Gastric bypass surgery is one type of procedure that can be used to cause significant weight loss if you are very obese. The surgery reduces your body's intake of calories. Calorie reduction is accomplished in two ways:
After the surgery, your stomach is smaller. You feel full faster and learn to reduce the amount that you eat at any given time.
Part of your stomach and small intestines are literally bypassed (skipped over) so that fewer calories are absorbed. Unfortunately, sometimes nutrients are lost as well. "
Is this comment supposed to be… ironic?
Try “Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites: Flavorful Recipes for Healthful Meals” by Moosewood Collective. There are a ton of used copies on Amazon.
The thing about the hate diet (which I am quite familiar with) is that it doesn’t REALLY work because we’ve always gained the weight back. Right? It’s so tempting to go back to that way of trying to lose weight. But (with the help of a lovely therapist), I’m trying to hold out hope for a happier, healthier approach to weight loss that doesn’t involve self-loathing. I’m just going on faith that this new method might actually work and provide sustainable results. So far, it’s waaaaayyyyy slower than the hate route but I’m moving in the right direction. And I’m not miserable along the way.
I’m all about the strength training. Once that’s your focus, everything falls into place.
Well my best advice to you is to cut out as much bread in your diet as you can, drink water and do some cardio exercise as well as the treadmill. Also do not stop eating, eat six small meals a day and that will help you. Honest and just remember portion control. Stop eating when you get full. Its really not a diet persue, its a change in lifestyle. Hope this helps you!
I just cleaned out my closet. To hell with it, I said. I won’t be able to fit into those things for a looong time, so why look at a closet full of clothes I can’t wear?
I guess you are kidding about the scrapbooking thing. Although it would be an interesting exercise in confronting our things-we-hate-about-ourselves, seeing them tangibly in photos rather than monstrously in our minds.
Did you go to San Marcos? Or RR? I have been meaning to check out the American Apparel outlet, but hate the trek…
just gotta stick with it
LOVE this: …the craphouse phrase, “Everything in moderation.” Yep. When I’ve lost weight and feel good, I truly believe I can have french fries. Juicy rare cheeseburgers. And it’s downhill from there. This has been working for me lately: diet during the week, weekends off, workout with a trainer 3X per week, no booze until Friday night, track most of it on Livestrong My Plate. Also, spray tan. A tan always makes me feel thinner. Something else- I just don’t give myself the same amount of shitte when I “slip” as I used to. We’ve had children. It’s okay if we don’t look like our 20-year-old selves. Work at it, don’t give up, but also don’t make a cupcake or four equal failure.
Omg this makes me feel sooo much better that I am not the only one that feels this way!! I have the same exact problems with my weight. Sometimes when the scale is going up I just want to lock myself in my room until I loose about 50 lbs. Its hard and seems like everything revolves around food!! I hate it. And I hate not being able to fit in my clothes that I love. At the same time I have a love/hate realtionship with food. Help!!!