So I'm starting to think I may be in this for the long haul. I may actually make it. And it's a freakish, bizarre feeling. Sure, I've had plenty of daydreams where I was magically thin and svelte and slender and lean and luscious and all that good stuff, but the closest I got was back in '01 where I got down to 205 before the inevitable climb back up.
That's really embarrassing to admit, by the way, although I don't know why it should be. It's not like I look like I weigh 120 pounds and people would be surprised to find out what I really weigh. But there you have it. I weigh a LOT, and it's still over 40 pounds less than I weighed at my highest.
Anyway, I digress. Here's the dealio. Today at work I realized I have actually gotten into some really good habits. I eat breakfast every morning (well, every morning except Sunday, when I sleep until 9:30 or 10 and then go have lunch with my family). And by breakfast I mean high protein, not sweet. This morning I was trying to figure out what I wanted, and I ended up getting an egg mc muffin (kind of yucky, not really my thing) and eating about half of it before deciding I'd had enough and chucking the rest. And then when I got hungry before it was time for my lunch, which has actually gotten to be pretty rare for me, I meandered to the fridge at work where I have a bag with fresh veggies, edamame hummus, some lean meat, and some laughing cow light cheese wedges. I had some veggies and hummus and a little meat. And that kept me nicely full so that when I went for lunch I just got some soup because I decided I'd rather have a relatively light soup instead of the heavy lunches they tend to offer at the work cafe. And I actually checked the labels on the bags of chips (because I wanted a few tortilla chips to crush into my soup because yum), and about freaked out when I saw how fattening Fritos are. I mean, I realize they're hardly a health food, but I was a little shocked by just how greasy those things are. I got some lighter chips, and only ate about half of them, and halfway through my soup I was full so I stopped eating. And so on and so forth. You get the picture.
And I told my sister that I think I might just make it this time, and she's feeling the same way, which is cool. We're either our best allies or our worst enemies when it comes to food. It's nice to be both on the same page at the same time. I told her that I've had some times lately where I've been angry or frustrated and I wanted to eat, because that's what I do when I'm angry or frustrated and in a situation where I can't cuss like the daughter of a sailor that I am, but I couldn't because I either was full of good food, or I wasn't hungry.
If you've never been an emotional eater, that last sentence wouldn't make any sense to you. Well, okay, so you couldn't eat because you weren't hungry. Logical. But if you're an emotional eater, you know that hunger has absolutely nothing to do with emotional eating. So anyway, now that I'm paying attention to how I feel physically, I don't quite know what to do with myself when I'm angry or frustrated and can't cuss like the daughter of a sailor. I mean, one day at work I had a particularly difficult customer, and when I hung up the phone I muttered--sotto voce, I thought--dumbass motherf***er. Fortunately the few people who heard me thought it was funny and laughed, but it's not professional and I don't like doing that at work. So I can't cuss and I can't eat. What can I do? I'm pretty much tied to my desk and phone except for brief potty breaks that I owe to the copious amounts of fluid I consume (all either very low calorie or calorie free, another lovely new habit), I don't really have the luxury of taking more than a 3 minute walk to the bathroom. Any suggestions are definitely welcomed.
Another thing: I have a bionic knee. It doesn't quite work like that of the $6 million dollar man, but it gets me around. Stairs are tough. I always feel like I'm going to propel myself headfirst down the stairs so I usually elevator it, and I feel self-conscious about that. I always think people look at me and think I'm too freaking lazy to walk up one flight of stairs, no wonder I'm so fat. But it's not lazy so much as it is things not working well. But today I got my courage up, and I walked down the stairs at lunch and after work. I had to hold on to the rail, and get a kind of swinging gait going that must have been amusing had anyone been around to see me, but it worked! Woot! I'm going to keep practicing the stairs, and maybe someday I can go down them without feeling like Tarzan swinging from vine to vine.
So positive changes are happening, and my daydreams are definitely getting more interesting. It's going to be exciting when some of those daydreams become reality.
And in other breaking news: I got some really cute lacy undies a few weeks ago, and wore one of them today. Super melvins did those things give me a wedgie from hell! Why the heck do people voluntarily stick fabric in those places? I just don't get it. Not comfortable. Not a sexy feeling, in my opinion, unless it comes off again right away. Painful. I'm going back to my decidedly unsexy although cute and very comfortable boyshort undies.
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