Every Day a Holiday

If you're like me and have gone somewhat public with your weight loss efforts, there are many around you who are very much aware of the changes you're trying to make.  They know you're cutting calories and making every attempt to avoid overindulgence in rich, fattening foods.  What they DON'T know is how hard it is to get back on the wagon when you fall off.  What they DON'T know is the guilt you feel when you eat too much, or have that donut you promised yourself you wouldn't touch, and how that guilt torments you and discourages you and spirals you toward more bad choices.  This would, at least in part, explain why they, with no ill intentions, continually enable you by saying things like:

"Just put your diet on hold for today.  It's a special occasion."

"It's your birthday! Go for it!"

"Come on, it's Christmas. One bad day won't kill you."

Perhaps not.  The problem is, in a society that centers every celebration around food, there's no such thing as just ONE bad day.  Every day is a birthday, Christmas, a family get together, an office lunch meeting, a night out with friends, a church party, a holiday dinner of some sort.   So what does that leave us poor dieters?  A couple Tuesdays per month, I think.

Food addiction is like any other addiction in that one day WILL kill you, or at least kill your progress and efforts.  I can't think of any reasonably kind human being who would tell a recovering alcoholic, "Hey, it's your birthday ... drink it up, old girl!  It's only one day!"   Yet we food-a-holics don't receive the same degree of sensitivity to our struggles.

Of course, ultimately it's not anyone's fault but mine if I go for that forbidden donut.  No one picked it up and shoved it down my pie hole.  I have to be the one to quit telling myself that one day isn't going to hurt anything, or that I can pig out tonight and start (AGAIN) tomorrow.   If I eat now, I can pay later, right?  I'll be extra good tomorrow (or on Monday) so that I can be extra bad right now and get that instant fix.

No more "eat now, pay later" for me.  No more borrowing from tomorrow so I can splurge today.  Yes, there will be the OCCASIONAL indulgences.  Life needs balance.  But I've borrowed against too many tomorrows that never came.  The time to take care of myself is NOW. Not after the holidays or the parties or the dinner dates. Those events will always be there, calling my name, assuring me that "this one time won't hurt anything," until one time turns into two, then three, then weeks, months , years.

How do YOU get through all of those "special" days and stay on track?

Brains are jerks

Weight loss is a tricky thing.  If it were only about calories in vs. calories out, everyone could do it--easy peasy.  There wouldn't be a gazillion and a half blogs out there dedicated to this very subject, written by people who fight and scratch and claw week after week just to see the smallest change on their bathroom scales.  When we come across someone for whom it DOES seem to be easy, we are fascinated by that person.  Inspired by him.  Motivated.  For a few brief moments as we read his story, we become determined that his story will be OUR story.  We wake up the next morning, overflowing with a newly-charged desire to wipe out months, years, or even a lifetime (in my case) of really crappy habits.

Then ... life happens.

Stress. Temptation. Holidays. Birthdays. Vacations. Emotions.  We reach for food for entertainment.  For comfort.  For nourishment.  For socializing.  For pleasure.

Weight loss, for the 99% of us, is about so much more than calories.  Of course, at the end of the day, it's the math that really matters.  Burn more than you consume.  But there's this pesky, annoying organ resting atop each of our shoulders known as our brains that likes to mess with our efforts.  It tells us we've failed more than we've ever succeeded, so we may as well accept our lot.  It tells us we're tired and stressed and we deserve to veg on the couch and gnaw on a piece--or four--of cold fried chicken.  It stores every insult that was ever hurled our way, every homecoming dance we didn't get asked to, every biggest size on the rack that still didn't fit.  Brains are big, fat, mean jerks.

Stupid brains.

My brain is no exception.  It's a bully.  But bullies are only as strong as their victims allow them to be.  I've been a wimp.  My brain's been pushing me around a lot, for many years.   It's my fear of having to confront my brain that has kept me from writing in this blog and doing what I KNOW I need to do in order to change my body and my health.   I know what's swirling around in my crazy noggin.  I just don't want to deal with it.

But I need to.  When I started this blog, I did it mainly for the accountability, but also for the therapeutic value.   For a while, when I was consistent, it worked.  I had success and saw results that I felt good about.  Then I got busy and failed to check in here regularly.  No therapy, no accountability.  I slipped.  When I slip, I have a pattern of going on the hunt for the next great fat cure.  Despite knowing what works, I start looking for a gym, a group, a book, a trainer, a blog, a diet that will be my magic bullet.  It's my way of avoiding the big, mean bully who's waiting around the corner to pants me and shove me into a locker. 

Stupid brain.

I'm back on the blog now because it works.  It combines the two things I need most for my own good: therapy and accountability.  I wish it were as easy peasy for me as ONLY counting calories.  It just isn't. I have to fight the food battle AND take down a bully.