May 16, 2017: Hopefully not a day that will live in infamy.
I do believe that might be the first time I ever skipped a weekly weigh-in just because I knew I had gained. I justified it by saying that I needed to eat breakfast if I was going to go to my fitness class at 12:30, but the truth was that my preview weight at home was 180, which means I’d gained almost FOUR POUNDS since the last week’s weigh-in. I wasn’t about to face that at the scale.
I’ve been having a really rough time focusing on eating right and planning ahead. I’ve gotten much better about not binge-eating in the evenings (usually), but I’ve shifted to eating poorly during the day and failing to track, which is much worse.
My attitude lately has been to retreat to comfort food, and damn the consequences. I’ve also been engaging in (unbudgeted) online retail therapy, which is not a good idea, no matter how much I would like a new laptop bag or a new dress for work. I’m feeling like there’s too much to do at home, I can’t focus on what I need to do at work, and the workouts that were once invigorating and revitalizing leave me unsatisfied. So I eat and I shop.
Well, I should take that back: my workouts have been increasingly more positive. April was bad, but May was better. There were more classes offered at the work gym that I enjoyed, like kickboxing and yoga and core fusion, and the times I lifted weights were physically positive but disappointing from a performance standpoint (i.e. I’ve lost a lot of fitness by slacking off on working out). I also went running at the very end of the month, and managed a 20-minute run at just under a 13-minute mile pace with no walking.
My weight is hovering around 180, which is ten pounds above my lowest weight, and 20 pounds from my goal weight. My clothes don’t fit right, my face and arms feel extra fat, I no longer feel comfortable in my own skin (again), my knees hurt, and my moods swing like stupid. I’m such a delicate flower, especially when I’m tired.
I’m not sure what’s going to make me give a shit again, but I know something needs to turn around, and soon. I’ve been saying that since October, and nothing has changed. I have days where I’m totally on point, but I have more days (or unfortunate hours) where I eat my emotions and fuck all.
I’ve started keeping a handwritten journal over the past few days, logging my emotions, hunger level, and fatigue. The very preliminary findings, unsurprisingly, are that I eat my emotions when I’m tired and alone and emotionally vulnerable and something sets me off (like, say, my son not staying in bed like he was asked). Also, afternoon walks are more effective than afternoon coffee for a pick-me-up.
Perhaps if I keep up this journaling, painfully obvious though the results may be, I’ll figure out a battle plan for out-thinking my tired lizard brain ahead of time.
I just know I’m tired of feeling fat and frumpy and, well, tired. I need to take control back from my lizard brain, and I need to do it NOW.