Reality check time. I hate even posting here; I want to wait until I have it back under control and then come back and post the big lesson I've learned with the proof that I've learned it. But I'm trying to remind myself that part of the learning is happening through my writing, weird as that may seem, and it helps to write what's happening now, especially if I don't have it all back under control yet.
On the 23rd, we had an annual thing we do with my family where we rent a van, take the kids to see Santa, all go to dinner, drive around the city looking at the Christmas lights, and finally go get ice cream. I totally stayed within my maximum calories for the day and I ate very, very carefully, including having something off the gluten-free menu at the Thai place where we had dinner, even though what I really wanted was noodles. The other thing I deserve a fucking medal for us not drinking my way through dinner. My divorced parents hanging out and making nice while my kids drive everyone nutso is kind of a stressful situation for me. But I really wanted to get some ice cream at this delicious gelato place we were going later, and I felt like I should be responsible and only have one treat. So no noodles, no booze, only ice cream.
The next morning I was over 200 and more than two pounds over my last HCG weight. And it was Christmas Eve. When I started maintenance, I swore I would take the two pound thing very seriously, not because I think there is something magical about being over by two pounds, but because I think it's a good way not to let anything spiral out of control (hint: FORESHADOWING).
So here it is, Christmas Eve, and technically, I should do a steak day (eat nothing all day, then have a lean steak and an apple for dinner; drink lots of water all day). But I start to think, and I think to myself, "you know, I am about to get my period any day now. So considering I really didn't overeat and I'm about to get my period, that probably isn't real weight. I'll eat carefully today and see what happens." I ate carefully for most of the day. Two eggs for breakfast, nice salad for lunch. But the inlaws arrived with homemade chex mix, and even though I am definitely staying away from processed carbs, I convinced myself you only get homemade chex mix once a year! It can't hurt to have a handful, and another, and another.
Christmas Eve dinner (which we hosted because I start to feel guilty about all my relatives not having anything else to do on Christmas Eve and just sitting there, sad and lonely) was actually ridiculously healthy. Pork tenderloin, salad, green beans almondine, roasted root vegetables... but then I had two sugar cookies AND a very small piece of chocolate pie after dessert.
I wasn't keeping track of calories, which is a bad sign. But I bet I ate in the range of 1800 calories yesterday, it was just that I ate a lot of sugar and processed food, which makes you retain water. And I ate a lot of carb calories which converts to fat faster than protein calories.
Christmas morning dawned and I was 202.8!! I weighed myself in horror, disgusted that I was up 4.6 pounds, disgusted that I was weighing myself repeatedly, trying to get a lower number like someone who has totally lost touch with reality, disgusted that I was weighing myself on CHRISTMAS MORNING while my kids were running around excitedly and wanting to open presents, and most of all, disgusted with myself that I was going to let a measly four pounds determine my mood on Christmas. Let my dysfunctional family determine my mood, but not a measly four pounds which was probably mostly water weight and hormonal fluctuations.
Still, even though it was Christmas, I didn't want things to get out of control, so I resolved to do a steak day. And literally 10 minutes into the day, I ate a muffin my mother-in-law had made, which was very healthy but chock full of white flour. It almost feels like THAT was the decision that was the critical decision of the day: deciding that the first thing I put in my mouth was going to be something that my brain was telling me not to eat.
I was off and running. I did not count calories yesterday, but here is a partial inventory: peanut M&Ms from my stocking (before 9 a.m.) hazelnut and cashew brittle that my brother and sister in law made (before 10 a.m.), a homemade sticky bun from the delicious batch my dad brought, half a waffle with maple syrup, scrambled eggs, a huge salad with leftover pork (my rational brain surfaced for a few minutes to make me eat something healthy), 2 or 3 sugar cookies, a small glass of chocolate wine (don't ask), a handful of blue corn tortilla chips, a handful of sea salt pita chips...I can't even remember everything. It was, like, a really bad binge day. And the thing was, I felt BAD. I felt tired and lethargic...I kept telling myself it was staying up late wrapping presents, but I think it was the sugar. And I would berate myself for ruining all my hard "detox" work by just stuffing myself with sugar and processed carbs, and then I would tell myself I might as well make a day of it since I had already fucked up so bad. It was weird. I just calmly, totally willingly and knowingly, sabotaged my diet all day long. All day. I don't know how many calories I ate, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was 2500-3000. Easily.
This morning I was 203.2, a full 5 pounds above my last HCG weight. OMFG. Shoot me now.
| Day 1 | 12/14/2010 | 198.2 | 967.0 |
| Day 2 | 12/15/2010 | 198.6 | 1437.0 |
| Day 3 | 12/16/2010 | 198.4 | 1460.0 |
| Day 4 | 12/17/2010 | 197.0 | 2207.0 |
| Day 5 | 12/18/2010 | 198.4 | 1708.0 |
| Day 6 | 12/19/2010 | 199.2 | 1697.0 |
| Day 7 | 12/20/2010 | 198.8 | 2144.0 |
| Day 8 | 12/21/2010 | - | 1914.0 |
| Day 9 | 12/22/2010 | 199.0 | 2288.0 |
| Day 10 | 12/23/2010 | 199.6 | 2115.0 |
| Day 11 | 12/24/2010 | 200.6 | - |
| Day 12 | 12/25/2010 | 202.8 | - |
| Day 13 | 12/26/2010 | 203.2 | 798.0 |
Now. Here's the part where I tell myself what I would say if it was my dear and special friend that had fucked up like this. I would say, "It was the holidays, which has stressed you out like mad for the last 15 years. You are still new at maintenance, and you are learning. Part of learning is fucking up. You're about to go on your period, which certainly makes the carb cravings worse. You were hosting all sorts of people in your house for two days in various combinations that don't get along and that cause painful memories while also bringing out your anxiety-fueled puppetmaster capabilities to full effect. Everyone was bringing delicious food into your home during a time when your defenses were not as strong as they could be. You've been stressed, you haven't been sleeping, you haven't been drinking enough water. Probably two pounds of that is real weight gain and the other three is water weight."
That is what I would say to my friend. And I would be right. Look, I've said from Day 1 that I have my doubts about how this diet is going to teach me anything about food that would help me maintain a lower weight for a long time. But if I have any chance of succeeding long term, I have got to allow myself to fuck up, and I've got to get back on the wagon. A nutritionist told me once that it was the only difference she saw between successful and unsuccessful clients: the ability not to let a fuck up sabotage efforts in a permanent way. She said everyone could be a good dieter. Everyone could follow a plan when given a plan if they wanted to. Also, every single person following a behavior modification plan will fall off the wagon eventually. But the difference between people who gained it back and people who kept it off was the ability to get right back up on the horse. In order to maintain a weight loss, you couldn't just be good at losing weight; you had to get really good at fucking up.
Today has been a struggle. All day I have wanted to say "fuck it." All day, I have had a tape running in my head that goes something like this, "Well, you and everyone else thought this was too good to be true, and now you've gained five pounds in as many days, clearly fucking up any chances you have. So go ahead and have the pita chips, the M&Ms, the leftover sticky buns. You might as well." But I ate only veggies and protein today to try to get my blood sugar and carb cravings a little more under control. I hope I'll be down a little tomorrow, but probably not back under 200 for a couple of days. I think it's the wrong approach to try and drastically cut calories like I did today. I think the right approach is to eat on the low-end of my target (about 1800) for a few days and see if my body settles back to just under 200. So that's my plan.
God. I'm so mad at myself. This is so annoying!
This is such a weird thing. I have to care about this enough to maintain my commitment and be somewhat vigilant, at least for now, but I can't care about it so much that I let 5 pounds determine my mood and my value as a person. How do I strike that balance? And am I going to be a person who just can't ever eat sugar without spiraling into a binge? Or am I going to be forever spiraling into occasional binges and then adjusting for the next few days? I mean, what am I shooting for here? HOW CAN I BE PERFECT IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT PERFECT IS?
Ahem.
So I'm 13 days into a 42-day maintenance and freaking out about not having mastered all the things I'm supposed to master. It's like the few times I've meditated, when, three minutes into the session, my brain is racing and I'm thinking, "ARE YOU CALM YET? I DON'T THINK YOU'RE CALM. You SUCK at meditation!"
So meditation takes practice, eating healthy takes practice, getting back on the wagon takes practice. Fine, fine. I keep reminding myself that I may be up 5 pounds, but if I'd never done this diet, I would have still gained 5 pounds and would be well over 230 by now.
I'm going to try not to be crazy and neurotic and obsessive over the next few days while also taking this seriously and trying to get myself under control again. Methinks it is a hard balance. I'll check in in a couple of days and let you know how things are going.
Merry fucking Christmas!
