Damn the weekends!

I love the weekend. I love not having to get up to the horrid squawk of an alarm, having an excuse to stay in my pajamas all day,  or go out late and overindulge in a selection of adult beverages. I wish they lasted longer and passed by slower. But weekends are extremely hard for me. I’m out of my normal routine and my eating suffers severely. Sometimes I go on a food spree and don’t get right until Monday.

“Let’s Get Ready To Rumble” ought to be playing loud and proud in the background. When it comes to me and my trigger foods…rumble it is! I act as if I’m never going to eat again. From a quantity standpoint, I bet I could give Joey Chestnut a run for his money…although he’s got me completely beat on the speed. I love food too much. Love the taste of it too much to not savor every bite. But is savoring 1,000,000 bites a day on Saturday and Sunday really necessary, Hannah?

Trust me, it’s not like I sit on the couch inhaling a full-size bag of potato chips or licking every morsel out of a Costco size can of chocolate frosting. My meal selections just aren’t as diet friendly as one would hope. Saw a good analogy earlier in the week to describe them…”more Paula Deen than Rachael Ray.” Ohhhh, the butter!

And it never fails, these weekends just keep coming around every 5 days. (Thank goodness!) I’ve got to find a way to work through them instead of having an out of body experience for 48 straight hours….finding it hard to fit back in my body at the end of the weekend. There’s not any room!

By Friday night, I’m sick of counting calories, prepping vegetables and washing pots. Healthy dishes take planning and prep time. Come Sunday morning, the guilt comes crashing down. By Monday I’m clinging to the back of the wagon, cursing my lack of will-power. Without fail, I get that awful guilt-ridden feeling that all my hard work and exercise during the week is for nothing. I know I have to break the cycle, but I’m struggling in my attempt.

Down 0.2 this week...not great...but better than a gain.

This never ending cycle of undermining my efforts is starting to get on my nerves, not to mention ruin my weight loss. I’ve got to stop sabotaging myself and my progress. There seems to be no rest for the weary…or the weary just can’t rest when it comes to weight loss. I will not give up!

“I may not be there yet, but I’m closer than I was yesterday.”  ~Author Unknown


I’m not hungry…

That’s right – I’m not hungry…and I ate way, way too little last week. Whether it was stress from the 107 page report I’ve been working on for the last few weeks or the fear of gaining weight, who knows. And when I say I’m not hungry…I mean if I didn’t eat for 2 days I don’t think I’d notice. So, you may ask…why in the hell is a fat girl worried about eating too little?!

Well…for one – I know that I absolutely killed my metabolism this week.  I’m sure everything I did eat is being stored in some pocket on my hips like a squirrel in winter, since my body has no clue when I’m going to feed it again. With that being said, I do want to mention – I did not intentionally starve myself. Trust me – I have this scary relationship with food so any time I even think that I might be hungry I’ll eat.

Aside from a metabolism that’s now as slow as a herd of turtles stampeding through a sea of peanut butter, why is my under-eating a big deal…well (confession time)…I have been fighting a battle with a Compulsive Overeating Disorder for the last 10 years. Food is my nemesis. It is my greatest enemy, my greatest fear, the apparition that has haunted my life and stolen my serenity, that taught me to hate myself – something I have treated as a “friend” for the last decade without realizing how much I was betraying myself by continuing the “friendship.”  Compulsive overeating is like bulimia without the puking. There is quite a difference in being stuffed after Thanksgiving Dinner and the hell I experienced.

Food consumed my every thought. When I was eating breakfast, I was thinking about what I was going to have for lunch…When I was eating lunch, I was thinking about what I was going to have for dinner.

I would polish off an entire box (yes that’s right, I said box) of popcorn. I’d go to McDonalds and be undecided between a #1, 2 or 3 so I’d get all 3 of them and eat every bite. If I thought I might like Taco Bell for dinner, I would not stop thinking about it until I had eaten it…often times despite the fact that I had already gone out to dinner with others.  I would purposefully wrap all of the containers and bags up as small as I could and stop where no one knew me and throw the “evidence” away. I’ve even snuck food into the bathroom before, turning the fan on so no one could hear the food wrappers rattling. I’d eat until I felt ill. I was like a meth addict with a less deadly substance. Well…maybe not less deadly…but instead of killing myself quickly I was doing it one forkful at a time.

At its worst, I was probably consuming 10,000 calories a day. I had lost the ability to determine what full felt like…I didn’t even know what hungry felt like. When I lived alone, it only fueled the disease, allowing me a safe haven to eat as much as I wanted without anyone being able to judge me.  I felt guilty for not being “good enough,” shame for being overweight, and had a very low self-esteem… Needing approval and validation I turned to obsessive episodes of binging and eating as a way to forget the pain and the desire for affection.  As sick as it sounds, I used to pray that I would somehow have the willpower to be anorexic…I wanted so badly to be able to just stop eating altogether. I was on a train going 500 miles an hour that wouldn’t stop.

Through some intense therapy, the very worst of the disorder has been behind me for a few years – but it still rears its ugly head every once in a while. I’ve very conscious of it now, and conscious of some of  my triggers. I even had to completely stop watching the Food Network for a while (wow that sounds really stupid to type) because watching food made me think I needed to eat, which in turn led to binging.

So, the fact that I am not hungry right now is somewhat of an unusual sensation. Unusual as it may be, it’s a godsend. It’s such an amazing feeling to not be thinking about food 24/7…Yes I need to get my calorie intake to a metabolically appropriate level, but for the moment, I’m relishing in the fact that, despite consciously watching my diet, I haven’t eaten myself from here to Winston-Salem.

Oh yeah…and as for the progress this week…here’s where I stand…

Another 3 pounds gone! Still ahead of schedule! After only 2 weeks of eating natural, unprocessed food, I feel so much better. My complexion is better, my sleep has been better, and I don’t feel as puffy and bloated.

I finally feel like I’m starting to eat to live instead of living to eat. Making better choices is becoming second nature. I even stuck to my guns while watching the Superbowl and made sure to have some really healthy options available.

I’ve still got a long road ahead of me, but I’m well on my way. Thank you for your continual support. I’ll see you at the finish line!

“You don’t drown by falling in the water. You drown by staying there.”