Weigh in: Week One
Last week, I came clean. I showed you what I looked like (minus my head). I got a lot of encouraging comments and I want to thank everyone who took the time to reach out to me. One of the most difficult parts of trying to lose weight, for me, is the self-imposed isolation. I decided that bringing up my weight or any weight loss efforts was taboo. I felt as though I couldn’t say to visiting company or friends and family that we were visiting that I was trying to be more healthy and watch what I was eating. That would have started, in my mind, an avalanche of drawing attention to my weight.
Because, you know, no one ever noticed that.
But, anyhow, I’m glad I’m “out”. I’m glad people know. I’m glad I feel like I have the freedom, now, to say “Hey, can we eat breakfast at home? I’m trying to stay on track.” Admitting my weight problem to myself first and then others has been enlightening for me. It’s not easy to expose yourself and lay all your worst shortcomings bare for others to see. It’s hard, really. But, there’s something so worthwhile in it. Something that feels good, deep down. Knowing that now we all know and being hopeful that the support of others can help me through the hard times.
Our August weekends were very busy. We had company for nearly every single one. It’s hard to diet and deal with company and events. The week leading up to Angus’ death saw us preparing for more company, for a wedding shower and I admit to being worried about how to manage my eating. When things took the turn with Angus, I admit to losing control myself, a little bit. I let my food be sort of automatic. I didn’t challenge myself or question things. I just ate. When I logged my weight watchers points in on Monday morning, the results were staggering. Despite eating carefully on Friday, I had used all my daily points plus my weekly extra points PLUS some more points that left me at a deficit for the week.
Since I’m trying to think of food as currency, I realized that I had to be a miser. I’d over spent my budget and had to scrimp and save to get my account balanced out. I purposely chose to eat under my points the final four days before weigh-in. I opted for healthy meals that were as low point as possible and I didn’t snack.
All my work and saved points did result in some weight lost.
I admit to being dejected. I admit to being a little mad. I admit to being betrayed by my own body once again. I admit to being angry that, at the end of it all, my body was telling me, mathematically, that I’d only manage to conserve a mere 700 overall calories.
I know. I know you want to tell me a loss is a loss. That’s true. I know you might suggest I go downstairs and find something that weighs 2/10th of a pound and hold it in my hand to get the feel of how much I really DID lose (it’s a little less than a stick of butter, FYI), but I wanted more. I wanted to be rewarded for eating lunch salads and egg whites. I want to see the scale move as repayment for the spinach in my omelet and the ice cream I said no to.
I wanted four days of being a saint to erase every vestige of sin, but it never does.