Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Weight!

Uh oh. How’d that happen?

I knew my weight was slowly creeping up since sometime this spring. I knew, I knew, I knew. I never quite made it onto the scale so I was able to put it out of mind a little. I remembered each morning as my selection of clothing became smaller and smaller, waist bands larger and larger. Almost no choices left. So sure about the permanence of my weight loss earlier this year that I brought bags of clothes to Goodwill.

We bought Wii Active last week. I thought it would be something I could do indoors (maybe I should stop complaining since we have it a few degrees cooler than Western Washington—totally bizarre) to get myself moving. I started running the week before I went to Yelm last, ran once there, then promptly stopped. Michael and Sierra began using it right away (mostly as a tool for making fun of each other). I decided to create my profile on the off chance I’d find some time to use it this week. But I didn’t know my weight.

I was going to guess but figured I may as well tackle this thing head on. I marched upstairs, stripped down, and hopped onto the physician’s scale we bought for 90% off back in our Boston days when Lechmere went out of business. Drum roll please . . . . . I’m packing 20 additional pounds.

“Don’t panic,” I whispered to myself. That leads to feelings of failure which leads straight down the street to Dairy Queen (more specifically to a chocolate covered strawberry waffle bowl sundae). There’s only one answer. I’m an addict and I have to face that ugly, ugly truth.

I have a sweet tooth. A crazy, desperate sweet tooth. The sad reality is that restraint and moderation are more difficult for me than abstinence. A handful of times in my life I’ve completely cut the refined sugar and other processed carbohydrates from my diet and endured a painful few days of withdrawals. And then it’s over. Almost miraculously, I no longer care about sweets and breads. A balanced diet of fruits, vegetables, meats, cheese, and assorted high fiber items keep me more than satisfied. And the weight falls off week after week. Until I think I’ve got it under control.

One of the more memorable tumbles off the wagon for me was in 2003. I was at a great weight and had been for months. I’d been eating a very healthy diet for 8 months. Then the unthinkable. A trip to Hershey Park. We met Michael’s brother’s family there on our way to spend a few days with them and my downfall was almost immediate. Ice cream was the first stop and I reasoned that one cone couldn’t hurt; it would be a shame to visit Hershey Park and not have something chocolately. I’d been so good for so long. So totally in control. I settled on a great big waffle cone. The next day it was chocolate samples and other no-no’s. At Ben and Sheri’s house it was Sierra’s birthday cake. What the heck. I’d start fresh at home. I would. I totally would. It took me a month or so to realize that a) I was pregnant and b) I wasn’t starting fresh anytime soon.

So once I’m fully off the sugary-sweet, doughy, bready goodness, I get cocky. I think it’s easy. And it is of course. I just totally forget how hard it was to get to that point. How close I am to the ledge at any given moment. For the last three days I’ve been in that awful, hard place. I’m cranky, tired, lazy, forgetful and totally convinced I’ll go mad without a chocolate covered strawberry waffle bowl sundae. In a few days I should be okay. I’m just marking time.

My family is putting up with me admirably but today I forgot one of my dearest friend’s birthdays. I’m so sorry Tia! I’m blaming Diary Queen.
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