I sort of obliquely mentioned the fact that I'm doing Weight Watchers again in my post recapping my 26 of 2006, but now I'm going to talk about it for maybe the first and last time in 2007. I've never wanted my trying to lose weight to be the biggest thing in my life, and I've always felt that writing about it was sort of a problem, because of that. But the fact is, it does trickle down and cause all kinds of ripples in other parts of my life. It certainly changes the way S and I eat, because doing WW means that I have to eat in my apartment six days a week. I've decided that my goal will be to only eat out once a week (okay, twice, if you count my once-weekly lunch at Subway, but that's 100% on plan, so I don't really), which is not what I'd really like to be doing, but right now, if it's a choice between losing weight and eating out, the former wins.
Last time I did WW, I lost 30 lbs. in around six months, and then I got bored and really hungry for good things and just fed up with 22 instead of 24 points, so I sort of lapsed. I maintained and gained, and maintained and gained, and now I've gained almost all of that 30 back. It just sort of creeps up on you, especially if you love food the way I do. I mean, I've just been eating like I can eat anything I want to and not gain weight, which unfortunately for me, isn't true. I really, really let myself eat what I want over the holidays, too, because I knew on Jan. 1st I'd be jumping into the WW thing full time again. And I did, and I've been really, really good so far. My first week was smash-up bang-up good. I don't want to write down exactly what I've lost in five days, but it's a lot. Like, a-scary-lot. It might be due to two things: a) the alcohol that I drank on New Year's Eve may have added to my starting weight on Jan. 1, and b) I've decided that instead of my allotted 24 points, I'm going to use 22 a day. Last time I did this, it was the switch down to 22 from 24 that really derailed me, so I figure if I just go by the 22 a day thing, it may help me. Some days it won't be realistic, and others it will, so I'm just going to play that day by day, and see what happens. But I have hopes.
Am I miserable? Kind of. I wasn't sleeping very well in the middle of the week. I told S that I thought it was my stomach bothering me--I'm hungry all the time again, even when I'm laying in bed trying to sleep--and the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about Mexican food. I'm not kidding, either. I seriously spend at least an hour a day thinking about all the food I'm not eating and all the food I want to eat. It's like (and bear with me, here) porn in my head, except that it's glistening mounds of guacamole and sensual shots of quesadillas and tacos I picture up there. Everything looks dreamy and it fills me with longing. Sex? Who cares. I want Mexican food. See, now I'm thinking about it now, picturing a gigantic basket of tortilla chips and a big bowl of salsa and cheesy nachos and grrrrr. This is why I can't fall asleep.
And you know, being hungry all the time makes you crankier than shit. I think I've been okay, but you might have to ask S to get the real picture. It's the worst at about 5 pm, when I just feel miserable and want to crawl into the kitchen and start eating things, any things. I've been eating either a banana or some olives in the afternoon, after work, to try to make my stomach think it's got food in it, but it is REALLY not working. I'm not sure there's much else I can do to make that sort of feeling go away; I've ALWAYS, even when not dieting, been the kind of person who NEEDS food in the afternoon or early evening to even out my blood sugar, or whatever it is that makes you want to kill someone for no reason. So dieting makes it worse, because I'm not feeling well-fed at lunch, and at around two, it starts, and then by five, even with the banana, or olives, or whatever small snack I decide to eat, I'm crazy. I get either sullen and snappy, or just plain angry and ready to fight. You've got to admire S for sticking it out, and dealing with it. I do.
But at the same time, it feels good. It feels really good to be in control again, and I know that when I do go out (tonight, for, predictably Mexican at one of our favorite places in the city for cheap, good Mexican), the food will taste ambrosial. I know that each and every meal I eat out will feel like a gift, and even though that's not the way food is supposed to work in your life, that's the way it always will work for me, because I like it too damn much to feel indifferent to it. Last night, I had enough to points to count out a serving of those Cape Cod reduced-fat potato chips, and my god, it was like seeing in color for the first time. I've got to get used to that feeling again, and embrace it, because if I don't, I won't lose any weight, and unfortunately, whatever pressure it is I feel from outside isn't motivating me; it's coming from inside, because I want to feel good in my clothes again. There's no way around it, now; I want to lose weight more than I want to eat good food every day. It won't last forever. We'll see.
But I promise you, this will be the last time I talk about this for a long time, because I don't want attention, and I don't want any more pressure, and I don't want it to be a "thing". This is just stuff I needed to say, so I could get past this initial few weeks.
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