Today sucked. Not because it was BEAUTIFUL out in Chicago. Not because my husband not only suggested but INSISTED we take a family trip to IKEA today. Not because I got a bunch of kitchen shit I really didn’t need for cheap ass prices. But because I succumbed to the diet demons and cheated on myself.
I am admitting this wrongdoing for a few reasons. For starters, I feel like a hot mess right now and this is the only way I can think of to get the harsh feelings toward myself out. Secondly, I would be doing no one justice to pretend that this journey didn’t have any more hurdles to jump, that it was the most easy and perfect thing to happen in my adult life.
I have been stuck at the 30 lb. mark for TWO WEEKS. The new scale I ordered came and to no avail, the extra weight I feel like I am still carrying didn’t magically disappear as if the former scale suffered from shitty manufacturing. The scale just refuses to budge, whether I have a good day or not on my diet, if I do my arm weight exercises or now, and it is frustrating. On my Lap-Band online support group they would call the stage that I’m in “Bandster Hell” which signifies the time between getting your band when you have rapid weight loss, and the time that your band actually get’s filled and begins to help you with restriction. Where a cup of mushed food once seemed like a four course meal to me, it now is starting to not be enough, leaving me wanting and weak. I go see the surgeon on April 12th for my first fill and hopefully I’ll be back on track with all of that.
I have been really good about not being in the wrong food place at the wrong food time, but it is very hard on the weekends. Also, I have been very sneaky and defiant and am justifying foods that I can mash to dust in my mouth as a puree diet. Like a cracker, or a cheese puff, or a French fry. Yes, I might take 8 bites out of that one fry, but I can mash it and swallow and feel no rare and detrimental effects afterwards. There is no esophageal warning right now to keep my mouth shut and move away from the food. I am healed from the surgery now, and I am hungry.
Cheating is a horrible thing. Not only aren’t we doing ourselves any favors in reaching our goals, but what’s worse is that we feel like complete assholes afterwards. I have not been involved in a cheating experience in any relationships (that I know of obviously) but is cheating on yourself any better or any worse than being cheated on by someone else? I mean, okay, I am being over dramatic. This would be one of those times when I remind people that I was in theater and suddenly it all makes sense to them why I react the way I do. I would take a small (and hopefully curable) disease before I took a cheating husband, but today I feel just plain aggravated and disappointed in myself. And gross, did I mention gross?? I mean, this is only the second time in almost 7 weeks that I have eaten over 900 calories!! (The first time was my secret.) My former self would kill 1500 cals in one lunch at McD’s and not even feel full, and today I am beating myself up for doing it over the span of a whole day. And on a Saturday night dinner at Portillo's the shame!
But it’s over. I can’t go back. I can only
get a spanking smack myself on
the hand and promise to do better tomorrow (….did I really
just write that online?!?! Damn, those unauthorized French fries really did a
number on me.)