It’s been a while since I last posted, and I can attribute that to gaining 2 lbs somewhere between week 2 and week 3.
But I kept to my habit of working out, and somehow managed to lose 5 lbs. Overall, it’s like I’ve lost 3.
It feels nice not seeing 127 on the scale. It feels less nice looking in the mirror. It feels nice knowing I’m eating clean, but feels less nice knowing I can’t control my intake. Can’t control it yet.
Weird story: I have no gag reflex. I don’t boast about it. I mean, it comes in handy some of the time, if you know what I mean. But it also prevents me from being a purger. Of course I’ve tried to vomit. But in all due honesty, I can’t. I once had to go to ER because I was stupid and young and accidentally swallowed something toxic (not drugs). Still couldn’t do it. I ended up being just fine, though.
The only time you’ll find food coming out the upper-end of my body is when I’m laughing too hard that I’m squirting milk out of my nose, or when I’m getting food poisoning the day after Christmas 2014.
Because of this, I have to deal with everything I put into my body. There’s no takesies-backsies. And again: I don’t boast about it. I struggle with snacking — and it’s bad snacking to boot. So my “purging” comes in the form of diet and exercise: trying to eat well-balanced, healthy meals and trying to workout almost every day. For every bad decision I make, I try feverishly to balance it out.
So far, I’ve been successful. I stopped eating the shitty sugary cereal my dad bought and bought my own whole grain oats. I put cinnamon and 1/2 an apple or 1/2 a banana on top. I even stopped using milk and just soak my oats in water. Every little bit counts. I also stopped overeating to the point of getting sick. I’m really glad I kicked that habit.
I’ve also been working out almost every day. I do the stair-climber, bike machine, and treadmill and aim to burn anywhere between 125 to 375 calories a day. I’m trying to make working out a regular part of my day again, so I’m keeping it moderate.
I haven’t noticed any change in my body yet. Both visually and on the scale. I guess it’s only been a week.
I’ve let myself go. I used to eat three meals a day, snack occasionally and proportionately, and workout almost every day.
Then I switched schools. My courses became more demanding and my hours spent in class literally tripled. The gym wasn’t so accessible. I barely had time to sleep.
And then I left my boyfriend. We’d been together for 4 years. And I got sick: the measles, bladder infections, two yeast infections. My dog died. And I got bit by a dog at work (thanks antibiotics, for the yeast infections). All within 4 months.
So I crashed and burned. I stress ate.
And I’d tell myself every day that today would be the last day. I’d grab my gut and look in the mirror and think it’s only a pound or two.
So I gained 15 lbs with ease.
Because breaking the habit is hard once you’ve started it and started excusing it. It’s never acceptable to let yourself go, no matter how much support you receive, because a success story is so much more impressive than a recovery.
Even last night, after my first post, I ate a cookie and three mini chocolate bars in bed. I’m ashamed. I felt so hungry. But it’s got to be emotional hunger. I already ate three meals that day. And my mind hasn’t deviated from that coping method completely.
But today, I started working out. Thirty minutes on the stairclimber and 375 calories lost. It’s like I didn’t even eat breakfast or part of lunch. Success.
Instead of looking ahead, I’m looking back. A successful day no longer begin with an “I will…” but rather an “I had…” I’m looking at all my yesterdays to see if I’ve accomplished what I wanted to. That’s success for me: the evidence of effort and definitive results.
Yesterday I failed myself. Today I failed myself. I ate a scoop of jello, three mini chocolate bars, and a generous helping of peanut butter (in addition to my three meals).
Tackling stress eating is my first goal. It’s going to be dreadful. My second is eating at the right times, and not whenever I’m hungry. It’s going to be done.